Tribes

of the

Hakahei:

Omnibus Edition

All characters and events portrayed in these books are fictional,

and any resemblance to real people or incidents is coincidental

(and, let’s face it, unlikely).

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Copyright 2015 Scott Robinson

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Contents

The Space Between

Singing Other Worlds

The Time Comes

A Different Kind of Heaven

Other Books by Scott J Robison

About the Author

Tribes of the Hakahei:

Part 1

The Space Between

by

Scott J. Robinson

(Copyright 2011)

This book is

dedicated to

Kelly

Like everything else.

Contents

    Prologue

1: Festival

2: Wilder Parts

3: Builder

4: Tree and Sky

5: Weapons of War

6: Open Doors

7: Rivers

8: Absent Lords

9: Shifting Sands

10: Old Rules

11: Engineer

12: Coffee and Cars

13: Tourist

14: New Paths

15: Lessons Learned

16: Messages

17: Other Gods

18: More Trolls

19: The Doorway

20: Other

21: Lost Ones

22: Long Day

23: Escape

24: Deeper

25: Song of Being

26: Going

27: Worlds Away

28: One Small Step

29: Rugby

30: Illumination

31: Alignment

32: Fly

33: You Are Here

34: The Enemy

Prologue

***

Elsewhere

Magic whispered in Scree’s mind, picking at the edges of his consciousness like a vulture working at a carcass. He stopped a meter from the dying stranger, unwilling to get any closer.

"Akawi," the man said, "you must take the books and flee. You must. I know these men are just trolls and will not stop to steal two books, but they may burn them." He coughed a dollop of blood onto the timber floor. One of his legs shook violently, drumming a ragged rhythm. "You must take the books." He coughed again. "We are so close. I know it. Continue the search for the portals."

Scree didn't move, hardly dared to breathe, and the dying man grew more urgent.

"Take the books and go. Flee."

The vulture of magic grew more desperate, fluttering and scrabbling for something to grip. "Where's the books?" Scree asked in a hoarse whisper. "Where?"

"Where they have always been, Akawi. Where my precious books have always been."

"Where's that?"

The man struggled to sit up, though he shouldn't have been alive at all. "Who are you? You are not Akawi. You are a troll." He slumped to the floor as the vulture finally took flight.

Scree stepped closer and kicked him. "Gutted cats. Where's they at?" Akawi, who ever he was, would know. "So, does I finds Akawi? Or does I finds something more useful, like food?" Food did sound good — he hadn't had a half-decent meal in days — but a dying man's last thoughts were for some books, not himself!

As if to decide the issue, a slim young man crept into the room, peering back over his shoulder.

Scree leapt up, a smile on his face, and grabbed the newcomer around the neck before he could react.

"Akawi," he said, "how is ya?"

He received a gurgle in response.

"Your friends here was talking abouts some books." He gestured vaguely. "Where's them books at?"

Akawi, if that was who it was, shook his head and gurgled again. Scree decided he might save himself some time by first discovering if he was talking to the right man.

"You is Akawi, ain't ya? Keeping in minds that if you ain't, thens I mightn't have any more use for you."

The man nodded, eyes widening with fear as if he'd expected to live before that.

"Good, so hows about we makes a deal? You tells me where them books is hid, and I'll let you lives." Scree smiled. "Sounds like a fair deals to me."

Elsewhen

"The giant statues on Easter Island?" Dongoske said. "You know the ones, Miss McLean?"

Kim nodded. "Yeah, of course. In general."

"Well, they're called 'moai'."

"Tuki's people are called moai, right?"

Dongoske nodded. "But wait, there's more. My people, the Hopi, who were based to the southeast of here, have legends about our ancestors arriving from other worlds by climbing up through holes in the ground. That's why most of our ceremonies are carried out in an underground chamber called a Kiva."

"Kiva is the name of Tuki's world," Meledrin said.

"Correct. So, suddenly, ancient legends take on a whole new light. Here we are, within a few meters of an underground gateway to a world called Kiva."

Kim shook her head. "But the Indian cultures aren't that old, are they?"

"They're a few thousand years old, but no, nowhere near the kind of time spans we're talking about here. We aren't saying that the Hopi really crossed from another world, but their legends had to start somewhere and the coincidences are starting to build up. The predecessors of the Hopi were called the Anasazi — a word that means 'ancient ones' or 'lost ones', depending on who you ask."

"What about Roswell? That's around here somewhere, isn't it?"

Dongoske laughed. "Roswell is in New Mexico, not that close to here, but still within the Hopi and Anasazi regions. But, a spaceship did not crash there in 1954. A weather balloon crashed." He smiled at the look of disappointment on Kim's face. "However, when the Air Force went to investigate, they did come across something."

"A spaceship?"

Dongoske smiled some more.

1: Festival

Kim almost ran over Robin Hood. She hit the brakes and the crappy old car slid to a halt with a crunch of gravel and clatter of engine.

Winding down the window, with an effort, she poked her head out into the cool of the early afternoon. "Sorry."

Robin waved away her apology. "No," he said. "My fault. Should look for traffic before stepping onto the road. I'm not as spry as I used to be."

That was obvious enough. This Robin was getting on in years and had spent far too much time drinking ale and not enough time running from the sheriff. Kim pushed long dark hair away from her face. "Well, as long as we're all okay."

"Don't worry, I'm fine."

With a small nod to Robin, she got the car moving again.

The parking lot was packed and, after making her way up and down a few of the lanes, Kim started to wonder why she'd agreed to come here. She finally found a spot in the back corner where the roots of a large oak had broken the road surface, forcing the more careful drivers to leave a gap between cars. Kim really didn't care and ignored the metallic complaints as the car bumped and scraped over the roots. She was just about ready to hock the car to some other poor, unsuspecting backpacker and give up her wandering ways.

After a final clatter and hiss, the car fell silent. Kim sat and enjoyed the peace for a moment then climbed out, stretching her legs and back. Starting to feel normal again, she leaned in the back window and pulled her mobile phone from the pocket on the side of her pack. One message. She listened as Nina explained, in a French accent that probably drove guys crazy, that she wouldn't make it to Nottinghamshire until late in the afternoon.

"Shit."

Kim looked at the people around her. Some were heading towards the Sherwood Forest Visitor Centre. Most were following a gravel path towards the wonder and merriment of the Robin Hood Festival. Knowing she was going to regret it, she pocketed her phone, locked the car, and followed this second group.

Beyond the plywood-castle gate the festivities were in full swing. Kim strolled along, watching the strange array of characters who'd made the journey to Sherwood Forest to celebrate Robin's birthday. Robin himself was popular, of course — silly tights and all. He ranged from babies in prams to men older than the one she'd almost run down earlier. Friar Tuck was popular as well — shaven scalp and all. Little John look-alikes were congregating around a tent selling cans of 'ye olde ale'. For the women, the three main choices seemed to be Maid Marion, witches, or fairy princesses. About half the people were dressed normally.

Kim nudged her way among the stalls, past a silver smith and a weaver, a potter and a dressmaker. There was carved timber, weaponry, wrought iron, and all sorts of things for sale. Historical societies had tents and camps where they could tell people about their little piece of the past. She followed the crowd, dodging past lacy wings, capes, drooping feathers, and curly-toed shoes. On any other day Kim could have happily wandered around taking it all in, but she was sore and tired from driving and pissed off that Nina had abandoned her, if only for a few hours.

She stopped to buy a hotdog and spent a moment wondering what such a delicacy might have been made of in the thirteenth century. Probably about the same as it was made from these days. A couple of minutes later she bought a salad sandwich and a drink for the second course. Making her way along the edge of the forest, she spotted a rare vacant seat at a picnic table and sat down with a grateful sigh.

Nearby, a young boy fired a blunt arrow at his sister and received a half-hearted smack from his father. A troubadour got down on one knee to serenade an embarrassed looking Goth girl. A knight, helm under his arm, clanked and rattled through the crowd, smiling and bowing to almost any woman who looked his way. When he spotted Kim he paused.

Kim knew that look. She sighed as the knight jammed his helm onto his head and started in her direction. His armor gleamed. The faceplate of his helm was lowered, offering only a small slit through which he could look.

When he was standing in front of Kim, he bowed with a rattle and a screech of metal that made him sound a lot like her car.

"My lady," he said.

"You know, I'm really too tired to put up with this shit." Kim shifted slightly on the hard wooden bench and examined her sandwich. "I just want to eat my lunch in peace."

"Oh, I see." But he stayed where he was.

"You see?" She was trying to be polite, but it was hard. "That's surprising with that stupid bloody helmet."

He quickly reached up to remove the offending object and seemed to think he'd found an opening. "I apologize for my rudeness in hiding my face, but once I saw you I could think of nothing as trivial as my helm." As if he hadn't put it on just a moment before. But, give a man a suit of armor and a classic phallic symbol like a sword, and he seemed to think he could do anything. "My name is Sir Douglas."

Kim shook her head. "For Christ's sake, Doug, take a hint and piss off, would you."

"Right." He looked around, perhaps searching for witnesses he'd have to eliminate. "Right." And he did as he was asked.

Kim turned her attention back to her sandwich. It tasted better than it looked, which was something.

As she chewed, a haggard old witch zeroed in on the vacated seat next to her. The woman carried a twiggy broom in her arthritic hands and used it to clear a path. She sat down with a sigh of relief and spent a moment getting arranged. She leaned her broom against the tilting picnic table and set her pointed hat down carefully before turning to gaze around the fairground.

Kim looked as well, as if something might have changed in the last few minutes. It was a quaint setting. Picturesque. But, in her current mood, she could only take so much quaint and picturesque. She wondered how much worse her mood would have been if she'd been sitting in some dirty old city.

Several minutes later, when Kim was almost over the whole idea of sitting, the old woman spoke.

"I'll get you my pretty," she said in a convincing Wicked-Witch-of-the-West voice. She added a cackle for good measure.

Kim thought about that for a moment, wondering if she was being offered a line for the second time that day and suddenly wishing she'd chosen bachelor number one. "Pardon."

"I'll get you my pretty," the woman said once more, this time in a normal voice. She shrugged apologetically. "I'd have gone for something out of Macbeth but I can never remember much more than 'When shall we three meet again', and, well, there are only two of us. My memory isn't what it used to be."

Kim dismissed a couple of very lame jokes before saying, "Macbeth probably would've been more suitable to our surroundings. The Wicked Witch of the West is a bit far from home." Or perhaps a fantasy wasn't out of place at all.

"I know. A bit of a shame really. Old Westie is a lot more interesting than anyone dreamed up for Robin Hood."

"Yeah. At least you admit Robin Hood is a fantasy. Nobody else here seems to realize."

The old woman fixed Kim with a surprisingly penetrative gaze. "You shouldn't be that cynical until you get to my age. I think most of these people know Robin was a fabrication, or a conglomeration at best. But they just want to have some fun on Robin's birthday. Look at the clothes they're wearing." She gestured with a knobbly hand. "More of them are in fantasy costumes than traditional medieval ones. They're just having some fun and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Fun is great. Idiots, not so great. If a fifty ton dragon turned up now, half these knights would draw their swords and run to fight it instead of running away and calling in some professionals."

"Professional dragon hunters?"

"You know what I mean."

"Perhaps. But maybe idiocy suits their disposition today. I know being the funny old grandma suits mine."

"You're here with your grandkids?"

"My granddaughter." The witch looked around. "That's her there, by the singer."

"The fairy?" Kim asked, looking at a little girl with blonde, curly hair and pink wings. She was smiling and laughing at the contorted faces made by the singer. "Cute. Shouldn't you be with her?"

"No. That's my daughter just behind her."

"Oh, that's all right then."

"Yes, it is." The old woman cackled her Wicked Witch cackle again as she collected her hat and broom. "They seem to have lost me. I'd better go, I suppose." She smiled and pushed a lock of stringy grey hair away from her face. When she brought her hand away, a few strands were clinging to her fingers. She showed them to Kim with a look of mock horror on her face. "I'm molting," she wailed, then shuffled away through the crowd with a wave and a smile.

"Okey dokey, then." Kim shook her head. "She's probably been waiting all day to do that joke."

Eventually, Kim got to her feet and headed into the crowd once more. She examined some of the stalls and chatted to a woman about the origins of her very Scottish surname.

Just before 2 o'clock, the rhythm of the crowd changed. Kim joined a growing surge of people and jostled her way past several street performers as she crossed the main green. All the performers wore suitable medieval raiment, but one of the acts involved a monocycle called the 'one wheeled chariot of doom'. The two monks who owned the chariot, Brother Phil and Brother Terry, were soon lost from sight as the current moved Kim on. On the far side of the green the throng reached a bottleneck between two rows of stalls and the pace slowed but it wasn't long before Kim and everyone else broke into the clear and crossed a dirt road.

"Come to see the battle, have you?"

"What?" Kim turned and discovered she was once more looking at the Wicked Witch of the West. Or, at least, at the top of her pointy hat. The press of people was still too tight to make eye contact an easy task. Her daughter was hovering by her shoulder carrying the little girl with the pink wings.

"The battle," the witch repeated.

"Which battle?"

"No, the usual kind. Not a single witch involved." She cackled.

"Oh, har-de-har-har."

The witch craned her neck. "This is the tourney field, otherwise know as the cricket ground. They have mock battles and such here. Can be interesting. On the other hand, if you don't find this sort of thing interesting, it can be boring." She smiled.

They turned a corner and shuffled along with the crowd. The makeshift grandstand up ahead seemed to be filling fast, so Kim found a likely vantage point on the grassy bank that ran along the edge of the field. The old woman managed to sit down as well, with a grunt of effort and a wince of pain.

"This is my daughter, Karen," she said, settling as comfortably as possible. "And that, is Jessie."

Kim nodded. "Hi, Karen. And hello, Jessie. How are you?"

"Good, thank you," the little girl said, cuddling up to her mother.

"That's good. Are you having fun?"

Jessie nodded. "I rode a horse and talked to a princess."

"Really? Wow. I might have to go see if I can go find the horses later."

Jessie laughed.

"They're only ponies, aren't they honey," Karen said, straightening her daughter's wings.

"You're too big," Jessie agreed.

"Oh well."

"You're Australian?" Karen asked after a moment of silence.

Kim nodded. "Either that or American, whichever will get me through the door."

"Oh."

"Long story involving elopement, unimpressed grandparents, and the CIA."

Normally a line like that got people interested, but Jessie asked a question and her mother was sidetracked. Kim was happy enough — she'd told the story too many times since hitting the road a couple of years earlier. She turned to look out over the field.

A dozen tents were clustered near the edge of the forest to the right. Weapons of all shapes and sizes were standing in racks nearby, most of them looking impressively real from a distance. Dozens of warriors, archers, and camp followers were milling around, but none of them seemed to be ready for action just yet.

The crowd continued to grow and eventually a group of eastern European soldiers from the early renaissance rolled three cannons out onto the field. Introductions and speeches were made over a loud speaker before the battle was declared open with a wadded-paper, three-gun salute. Parents opened their mouths wide in mock shock, children screamed with delight. Most other people seemed to prepare themselves for the real action.

Two teams filed onto the field as the announcer told the crowd a little about each group and the period and regions they represented. Then challenges were called and tributes offered to various damsels and princesses. It was all very awkward and over done. When the battle finally got underway, it was much the same. There were rules and obvious safety issues that kept it all very sterile and theatrical.

"So, is this as interesting as it gets?" Kim had spent eight years in the army and been involved in real military action, much to her mother's eternal mortification. So, while she had a slight appreciation for the fake battles as a form of art, she could not put much stock in them as a type of instruction.

"Oh, goodness, no. There is no limit to the excitement around here. There are archery displays later and jousting. And more battles of course." The witch pulled a sheet of paper from inside her robe. "I have a map and itinerary."

"Oh, boy."

The witch wrinkled her nose for a moment then pointed to a spot on her map. "Here, this is the Major Oak where Robin kept a stash of food in case of emergencies."

Jessie leaned over to have a look. "Can we go there later, gran?"

"We were there earlier, honey. That's the big tree with the hole in it."

"Oh."

The witch continued the inspection of the map. "The stream where Robin fought Little John is..." She turned it over as if something else might be on the back. The only thing there was a picture of the 'Sherwood Forest Country Park Visitor Centre'. "Well, I don't know where the stream is but it's around here somewhere, I'm sure."

"All of this," Kim said, glancing at the girl and wondering if she was about to give away a secret, "despite the fact he never existed. I suppose he's going to arrive later and hand out gifts?"

"He's busy stealing them from the rich at this very moment."

Kim smiled and looked at the map. "Robin must have been very skilled. He lived in an area not really large enough to hide a group of somber men, let alone a group of merry men."

"The forest is quite a bit smaller now than it was, but Robin was very skilled. He'll be at the archery display later if you need proof."

"Oh, my."

After the second battle Kim decided she'd had enough. "This is wonderful," she said to her companion, "but night is coming and I must get to grandmother's place before dark."

"Really? I know a short cut."

Kim smiled again. "Thanks," she said. "You're the nicest evil witch I've ever met."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"It is." She smiled at the little girl. "And you're the best fairy."

"You really think so?"

"Oh, of course."

With that she rose to her feet and sidled away though the crowd, back towards the main green. Amongst the stalls again she passed a man playing folk songs on a violin, an instrument that wouldn't be invented until a few hundred years after Robin Hood's time. For a while she watched a group of women working on a tapestry then moved on to a wood carver.

Soon, she'd gone up and down a few rows of stalls and stopped to listen to the shouts, cheers, and screams from the latest battle. Shaking her head, she started following a path northwards into the forest. A long line of people were strung out in front of her like beads on a child's necklace, though most were heading in the opposite direction. She continued forward with no clue as to where she might eventually end up. Perhaps she should have paid better attention to the old lady's map.

It was more than fifteen minutes before she arrived at her destination. The Major Oak, standing near the edge of a wide clearing, was about as exciting as one might expect for a tree. It was quite large, Kim had to admit, and quite hollow, with a high, narrow, curving split giving access to the dark interior. Some of the larger branches were propped up with metal braces.

Kim leaned on the fence that surrounded the tree. Monica loved James, apparently. And, according to another message carved into the moss-covered trunk, Nick had been here about ten years ago. When the excitement became too much, she made her way to a log seat. She sat down with a sigh and closed her eye. Everyone else seemed to have wandered away leaving the clearing strangely quiet. Sounds still came from the festival, a football riot heard from outside the ground.

Just when she was about to nod off to sleep, sitting on the uncomfortable bench, Kim heard a voice. At first she thought she was asleep, and dreaming. But the voice came again, deep and rough, in a language she couldn't understand.

“[The tree is huge, you must be able to get in further than that.]”

2: Wilder Parts

Meledrin had not ventured into the wilder parts of the forest for many years and, as she strode along the game trail, she suddenly wondered why that was. In recent years, hardly any elves went beyond the quiet dells and leafy dales surrounding Grovely. It was only the young men who wished to live the way they once had, if only as a way of avoiding their responsibilities. As a child Meledrin had listened to her grandmother tell stories of weeks spent in solitude, wandering through the forest for the pure joy of it. What stories would she pass on to the younger generations?

Whatever used the trail that Meledrin followed was nowhere to be seen. She had carried her bow, strung and with an arrow nocked, for several hours without coming across anything larger than the robins and warblers that sang from the high branches or hopped amongst the undergrowth. She was unconcerned by this lack of game. There was food in her pack and she was enjoying the verdant crispness of her surroundings too much to bother with serious stalking.

Grovely was a distant memory, Palsamon a warm glow in her consciousness.

She had fought with Palsamon the night before her departure — he had spoken yet again of having children — but out here, amongst the trees, everything seemed different. The two of them had shared a cabin for 23 years, something almost unheard of. Usually elf women selected a new man to share their bed every week or even every night. They chose new, younger men all the time as if any hint of age might pass on to them. Yet they tended to the Ohoga tree almost as if it were a religion because its great age gave it an aura that could not be ignored. For Meledrin, it was the same with Palsamon. He was ten years her senior and could offer so much more than a night of entertainment.

Meledrin's friends, Takande most vociferously of all, suggested she find a new man to raise, if only for a short time, above the ranks of the saveigni. Unattached men were plentiful and should not be wasted. She spoke of Halbaden in one breath and Suldon the next as if each was the answer to the same prayer. They could not read or recite poetry, but they could be used for physical pleasure and sent on their way afterwards.

Whispering a Lesser Changing, Meledrin pushed her long auburn hair away from her face, tying it back with a bright green ribbon as she continued to walk.

Despite the fact they sometimes fought, Meledrin knew she would not turn Palsamon out. When she had spoken of her need to spend time alone in the forest, he had understood — more than Takande or anyone else. He understood that she needed time to think and knew not to push for an answer on the spot.

Four days later she was still unsure if she was ready to have children, but it was an idea she no longer dreaded.

Her spirits were lifting with each step.

Some time after the sun had passed the zenith and started its long journey toward the horizon, Meledrin broke free of the tree cover for the first time that day and found herself in a clearing barely twenty meters across. The grass was lush, reaching almost to her waist. She looked up at the clear blue of the sky, shading her eyes to watch a brown eagle drifting in lazy circles. The sight of the bird's effortless grace lifted her spirits further.

Meledrin whispered another Lesser Changing, shadows to light. "Olin saso mo'koo."

So accustomed was she to weaving her day around the ceremonies, the ceremonies around her day, that she hardly noticed. Ending, Lesser Questioning, Greater Action. Those, and a score of other minor rituals, divided each day into controlled, manageable sections. Some of the elder elves needed to say the words and weave the patterns both, but like many others, Meledrin felt that the one or the other was enough. When her hands were occupied, she spoke the words. When her mouth was busy, she danced her hands.

Wading away from the protection of the trees, she hardly left a trail at all. She crossed almost to the other side, grass whispering around her, before coming across a three-meter circle of grass that had been completely flattened. In the middle of the circle, surrounded by chunks of wood and shavings, was... Something.

At first she thought it was simply a log, for stringy bark still clung to the outside, but upon closer inspection she discovered it was actually a chest. It had been carved from a single piece of wood, with a hinged lid and short, bulbous legs. She flipped open the top to find the inside hollow, though incomplete. The sides were rough, and the bottom was littered with long yellow curls of timber shavings.

Why would someone carve a chest in the forest? Meledrin wondered, shading her eyes and looking about. And if they felt the need to begin, why would they leave the task unfinished?

There was no evidence of a camp in the area, other than a small pile of food scraps. The condition of the wood and leftovers suggested the area had been vacated two or three days previously.

The trail the retreating wood carver left was a wide swath of flattened grass. Arrow nocked, Beginning on her tongue, Meledrin strode forward, too curious to let the stranger slip away so easily. She followed the trail for the remainder of the afternoon, occasionally stooping low to examine the ground, but generally walking purposefully, with the dappled sunlight on her cheek and a breeze coming in over her shoulder.

With the coming of night she stopped by a stream and ate fruit from her pack, content to sit under the stars. The chatter of the stream kept her company through the darkness.

Two hours after rising the next day, Meledrin stepped into another clearing, this one at the top of a low, rocky hill. A lush carpet of small, blue flowers mirrored the sky. She pulled up short. On a flat stone near the middle of the clearing, was a chair.

Meledrin quickly examined her surroundings. Nobody was evident, so she continued forward slowly. She held her bow half drawn, but no threat emerged.

The chair she stalked was a sturdy looking affair, made from a slice from the end of a log, four straight sticks as legs and three slats for the backrest. But beside it on the stone were scattered the pieces of another chair and what might have been part of a table. It was as if a dining setting had come to the clearing to die. Or perhaps the chairs, the males of the species, had come to do battle for the remains of a loved one. There were no food scraps to be seen this time, but the scraps of industry were much more numerous. Again, it all seemed to be a couple of days old.

Meledrin took to the trail again with a Lesser Beginning and followed as it swung to the west, back towards the river and Grovely. The township was no more than twenty kilometers distant. She quickened her pace. As the day wore on and the trail failed to veer away, she started to run.

The carpenter led her home. On the way she passed a half finished mallet lying in the path and another pile of timber, stripped of bark but not yet starting to take shape. Meledrin did not slow. She raced along the path, lungs burning, legs aching, mind aswirl with possibilities.

She ran into the village late in the afternoon, exhausted and wondering what she might find. But all seemed to be as it had been when she left. Other residents went about their business as if nothing was amiss. The quiet life of Grovely went on. She jogged among the cabins, following the main trail — a ribbon of brown on the velvet of the lawns. Eventually, she collapsed under a tree on the edge of the common lawn that fronted the Ceremonial Hall. Without the breath to speak an Ending, she danced her hands in a lazy, perfunctory manner. A moment later, Delfrana tottered through the rune carved Ancestors' Door and onto the porch of the Hall.

"Meledrin," the old woman said. "Meledrin, you look as though you have seen a spirit of the dead." She came down a couple of steps. "It is not seemly for a Warder to perspire in that manner. Get you where you cannot be seen."

"Delfrana, High Warder, someone is here." Meledrin tried to catch her breath. "I have followed a trail from out in the forest. It led directly here."

"We are aware of the stranger." Delfrana waved her walking stick. "Now go, before a saveigni sees you."

"You know?"

"Yes. Two nights past, while we were sleeping, someone completed the restoration of the dock. Last night the fence around the sheep enclosure was renovated as well." The old woman waved her stick again. "Go and wash, Meledrin. Quickly."

Meledrin nodded and climbed slowly to her feet. Her legs were aching. Her shirt and breeches were clinging to her skin.

"Oh, if a man should see you now," Delfrana hissed. She spun about and returned to the Hall. Meledrin plucked at her clothes to stop them from clinging and hurried away.

In her cabin, Palsamon was waiting.

"I heard you had returned," he said, offering her a flask of cool water. "Larawin passed by not long ago. She informed me that she saw you running towards the Ceremonial Hall." There was more water in a cauldron over the fire, and Palsamon added more even as Meledrin drank. He went outside to the well for one more bucketful then maneuvered the bathing tub into the middle of the room. "The water will be a good while yet. Why don't you rinse off first, while I prepare some food."

Meledrin nodded; her lover knew everything she needed. How could I return him to the cabins of the saveigni?

When the shutters were closed tight, she stripped off her odorous clothes and crossed to the cauldron.

"What do you know of the stranger?" Meledrin asked. Like all elves, she was tall and thin with slightly angular features, large eyes, and pale skin. She did not think she was particularly beautiful with only her unusual copper colored hair setting her apart, but Palsamon was watching her avidly. Dipping a cloth into the water, she started to wipe away the grime of the forest.

The man shrugged, not taking his eyes off her though he was slicing fruit. "He is a large man. Or woman I suppose, though the latter is unlikely."

"Why and why?" Water sluiced down over her body and disappeared between the floorboards.

"Why is he large? Because of the size of the tracks his boots left. Bigger than anyone I know." Palsamon was mixing fruit in a bowl, but still he watched. "Why is he a man? Because he was able to repair the dock on his own in a single night. The quartet of us who started the task expected to be working for another day. There was much heavy lifting involved."

"So, we have a large man wandering around Grovely mending things at random? In the forest he was making things. At least, he started to. Nothing seemed to be completed, however." Discarding the cloth, she collected a brush to remove the tangles from her hair.

"Making things?"

"Indeed." She enjoyed the way he looked at her but was pleased to know he was listening as well. "A chest, a table and chairs, a mallet. All half complete."

"How good were these items?"

"The quality of workmanship appeared first rate. The craftsman merely possessed no perseverance, apparently. What is being done?"

"Not a great deal. He does not seem dangerous."

"I would still like to be certain."

Palsamon shrugged. "You might want to get dressed before you take it up with Delfrana. I believe I'll just stay here and watch your dinner and your bath water." With the fruit salad finished, he sat down by the table. "Of course, if we are going to all this effort of making you a bath, we could get you really sweaty to make sure it is worth while."

"Palsamon!" Meledrin gaped at him for a moment before remembering herself.

"Yes?" he asked innocently. "I was merely thinking that we require more fire wood. I am sure you are aware of the location of the axe."

Why is it that he can play the child and I cannot? Is it a thing of men? Or of age? Or something else entirely? Meledrin was not certain, but she tried to join in the spirit. In a moment of audaciousness, she crossed the room to take a seat on the Palsamon's lap.

He kissed her softly, running a hand along her thigh, over her hip, and up to her breast. Though the sun was still visible outside, Meledrin returned the kiss.

* * *

Meledrin awoke to the sound of banging. Dawn had just started to spill through the window at the far end of the room, painting vivid stripes across Palsamon's muscled chest. She disentangled herself from his arms and sat up. The sound continued — a slow, rhythmic knocking.

"Wake up." She nudged his shoulder. "Wake up."

His eyes slowly opened and he smiled as he looked at her body. "Not again. I'm exhausted."

"Listen, you fool." Meledrin climbed over Palsamon and slipped into a long white dress that emphasized her hair. Then she quickly pulled on a pair of soft shoes and tied her hair back with a ribbon — it really needed to be brushed, but she did not have the time. She had her bow and was out the door while Palsamon was still lacing his boots. The sound was coming from the old smoking shed, out near where Faldorin's Path began. Meledrin quickly made her way in that direction.

There was nobody ahead of her, but she was pleased to see that others were stirring in the buildings behind.

A few moments later she saw a man kneeling in front of the shed. He was extremely short, but broader than any elf, and solid. He wore only stained, cloth breeches and large, heavy, leather boots. He worked methodically, hammering a long nail into a loose board on the wall. His broad, bare back was to her, muscles flexing with each powerful, precise stroke.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Hello," Meledrin said softly.

The hammer paused, then descended one final time. The man turned to look at her. A beard, curly and unkempt, covered his face. Short dark hair was plastered down with sweat, on both his chest and head. He was younger than she had first thought — he had seen perhaps 25 summers — but his dark, brown eyes seemed like those of a child. A strange contraption of gears and metal had been strapped to his arm in place of his left hand.

The stranger stared for a moment, looking Meledrin up and down. Four nails were clenched between his teeth. "Whistler," he mumbled, "you're the tallest dwarf I've ever seen." Then, "Sorry, did I wake you?" He smiled crookedly.

"Yes. I believe you have woken everyone." Meledrin glanced over her shoulder and saw a dozen more elves almost upon them. "Pardon? Dwarf?" She turned back to the stranger and lowered her bow. She had suspected he was a dwarf, but she had never seen one up close and would never have assumed. But he thought she was a dwarf?

"Work starts at dawn. That's the rule. Every dwarf knows that. And you dwives should know it too, if you're going to help."

"I'm sure. Perhaps you might have thought of some quieter work?" Meledrin thought it strange, chatting with a dwarf while the sun was still struggling to lift its weight above the horizon, but what else was she to do?

The ugly little man shrugged. "This is what needed doing. Winter's coming and if we can't dry meat properly we might have problems."

"Undoubtedly." The residents of Grovely had eaten mainly fruit and vegetables in recent years. The men trekked to the human markets and traded highly sought after elfish craft products for whatever else they required. The smoking shed had not been used for a long time.

But the dwarf nodded as if pleased she could see the sense of it. "Keeble's the name. Pleased to meet you. I asked to be reassigned to your work gang. You don't have a center punch, do you? These nails just don't look right."

She examined the nails, considering what might be the correct aesthetic for such things — Palsamon would know — before shaking her head. "My name is Meledrin." She wondered what else she might say. Manners dictated that she talked to him, but she really wanted to be somewhere else. She could smell the sweat on him. And Keeble was obviously having problems she could not comprehend.

Others finally started to arrive, all with arrows nocked and ready.

"What is happening?" Takande asked as she came to a halt beside Meledrin. Her long blonde hair was loose and she wore only a sleeping robe that failed to cover her knees, but her bow was ready.

"They breed dwarves to look like trees out here, do they? Or is it just the dwives?"

Meledrin gestured vaguely. "Takande, Keeble is repairing the smoking shed."

"So I see. He is a dwarf, is he not?"

"Yes."

Takande nodded as if that explained everything. Meledrin decided that quite possibly it did.

"Why is he repairing the smoking shed?" someone asked. It was a young man, and he was not looking at the dwarf, but rather at Takande's legs.

"It is what dwarves do," Delfrana explained, moving towards the front of the group. "Go and get dressed, Takande. That is not decent." She poked the younger elf with the stick as she continued forward. Without the support she wavered dangerously and a Warder rushed forward to steady her. "Lacking work and community, dwarves go batty: it is a documented fact. From what this individual did out in the forest, I would say he is well on the way."

"What did he do?"

"Started things that he failed to complete."

The dwarf rose to his feet, his face set. It appeared he would say something, but his eyes glazed over and he turned instead to examine his handiwork. "Done," he said eventually, with a small, teeth-clenching smile. "No smoke will get out of there." He turned back for another look. Whatever had been troubling him a moment before was forgotten. "If we had some mud, we could do some daub to really make sure."

"No. That will not be necessary."

"Well, I guess I'll get started on one of the other buildings then. I saw some loose shutters earlier. Hanging terrible, they were."

"No. That will not be necessary either."

"Oh."

Delfrana hobbled forward to get a better look at the dwarf with her bad eyes. The old woman wrinkled her nose in concentration. Or maybe she had noticed his stench as well and was unable to hide her disgust. Meledrin felt several women tense, ready to leap to the High Warder's protection.

"What crime did you commit?"

"What? None." Keeble fiddled with some of the wheels on his mechanical hand, winding the two pronged forks closer together then further apart.

"Oh, do not take me for a fool, boy. You are a Wanderer, are you not? No other dwarf would leave the mountains of his own accord. What did you do?"

The dwarf hesitated. He examined the nails in his hand.

"What?"

"I failed the Singing Test. But I'm not a Wanderer. They gave me a choice. Change gangs or leave."

"Oh, I see." Delfrana grunted, relenting slightly. "Why did you try if you were unable to do it? That is the thing that always confuses me."

"I could do it, though."

Delfrana grunted again. "Obviously."

Meledrin was confused. Dwarves valued singing so highly they would cast out one of their own who could not do it? That did not seem right. It did not fit with what she knew of the uncouth, uncivilized people.

"So, what would you like me to do then?" Keeble asked. "If you don't want me to fix the shutters? If you have a center punch I could finish this job properly."

"I think, actually, that you should leave."

"Leave?"

"We cannot have you waking up decent people at all hours of the night with your hammering. Go home, lad. Die with your family."

"But they will not take me back." He scratched at the turf with his boot. "I was assigned to this work gang."

"It is not possible for you to stay here."

Meledrin did not like Keeble with his dark, messy hair and heavy lidded eyes, but if he would die if left on his own, she did not feel it was civilized to send him away. "Delfrana," she said, almost taking a step back when the old woman rounded on her. "If all he needs is community and work, we can offer both, surely."

"Do you like rising before dawn, Meledrin? Do you wish to do that every day? And for a dwarf, being near people is not enough. He will need almost constant interaction. Talking, talking, talking, every hour of the day. Probably talks in his sleep. He will say more in an hour than you will say in an entire day. In two days. Elves like to talk, Meledrin, but all our talk has a purpose. A dwarf will make inane chatter all day while he thinks of something he really wants to say."

Meledrin dreaded the thought of listening to Keeble's rough, deep voice all day but could not condemn him to death on that basis alone. "It cannot be that bad, surely."

There was muttering from among the group.

"Are you questioning me?"

"No, High Warder, but surely you cannot wish for him to die."

"I do not wish for him to die, Meledrin, but whatever he is to do, I wish for him to do it in some other location."

Meledrin wanted to say more, drew a breath to do it, but forestalled.

Delfrana noticed and gave her a solid poke with her walking stick. "Very well, Warder, the dwarf can stay." She smiled coldly. "But he is your responsibility, every moment of every day."

Meledrin gasped and tried to order her thoughts. "I am to be with him all the time, or I am to be held accountable?"

"You are to be accountable. You can let him do whatever he wishes, but if he does something I do not like, you will pay the same price as he." Delfrana's smile grew. "Either that, or we send him on his way."

Meledrin chewed on her bottom lip as she thought. She did not want the dwarf dead, but she hardly wanted to be his nursemaid either when he may well be completely insane. He certainly did not look complete, standing bemused but smiling while his future was decided. And she did not want to spend her days in his company. Meledrin almost told Delfrana to send him on his way — how would she get any reading done if he were constantly talking — but she felt a hand grip hers. She did not have to look to know that it belonged to Palsamon. She would know his hand anywhere: the strong fingers, the callous on the heel of his thumb. His hand squeezed hers slightly, and she knew, suddenly, that she could not back down. Delfrana would never forget her small rebellion either way, but the others would only forget if Meledrin was proven to be correct. And for her to be correct, the dwarf had to stay.

"Very well, Delfrana. I shall be the dwarf's mother." The child she was not sure she wanted to have.

Delfrana laughed at that and shook her head, but Meledrin saw the sneer that crossed her face first. "Very well, Meledrin, Warder of dwarves, but I shall be watching."

"I am sure you will," Meledrin muttered when the old woman had turned away.

"Takande," Delfrana said as she started to make her slow way back to her home, "I thought I instructed you to get dressed." She thumped the younger elf with her stick. "Do not come complaining to me when some dirty saveigni touches you."

"Was that wise?" Palsamon asked quietly, when the others had walked away.

Meledrin sighed and turned to look at the dwarf. "You told me to do it."

Palsamon laughed. "Did I? Well, yes, perhaps I did, but only right at the end. You got to that end by yourself."

"Wise or not, it is done and cannot be undone."

"You don't have a center punch, do you?" Keeble asked.

"Do you think I was correct?"

Palsamon turned her to face him. "Of course I do, but perhaps we are a little bit different from everyone else."

Meledrin knew her relationship with Palsamon was strange but had never thought that she was strange. She looked at the retreating elves and took a deep breath. "Perhaps we are."

"These nails just don't look right. Where do you dwarves keep all your tools? I'll see if I can find a center punch." Keeble started to stride away towards the houses and Meledrin was forced to rush to catch up. Palsamon stayed by her side.

"Do you think he would bathe if we suggested it?" Meledrin asked.

3: Builder

Keeble put down his borrowed hammer and rose to his feet. Normally he wouldn't have laid a hammer on the grass, but the tool was already terribly rusted. In the two days he'd been in Grovely, none of the other dwarves had shown any concern about the state of their equipment.

"A bit more rust won't even be noticed."

Turning around, he strained his senses as he fiddled nervously with the gears on his mechanical hand.

"What is it, Keeble?"

Keeble had almost forgotten Meledrin was there. It felt as if he were talking to himself half of the time. She'd done some archery earlier but for most of the morning she had been reading, leaning back against a tree, long legs stretched out on the grass before her. He thought it strange that a dwarf would sit all day when there was work to be done, but he didn't mind. It just meant there was more for him. There was also a nagging thought about women.

"Shhh. Can't you hear it?" He scratched his chin with his fake hand. The gears caught in his beard, horribly short though it was, and he winced as he freed himself.

"Hear what?"

'Hear' wasn't exactly the right term. He turned to the east, peering through the trees as if he might be able to see what he couldn't exactly hear. But for all of his looking and listening, Keeble couldn't decide the origin of the feeling that had gripped him. "Don't know where it's coming from," he said.

He realized, standing in the shade as the sun dipped down towards the horizon, that the sensation had been present for a long time. "Been there for a while. Don't know how long, but I finally realized what it is." Or what it almost was. Or what it might be. He grunted in disgust. "Should've worked it out ages ago."

"Am I able to hear what?" Meledrin repeated. Rising to her feet and waving her hands in one of her silly little ceremonies, she followed his gaze through the trees.

"Singing," Keeble said. He looked around. "Where's my multi-tool." He'd found it in a shed and claimed it as his own but was forever forgetting where he put it. With an axe on one side and a sledgehammer on the other, it was extremely useful. When he saw it lying on the ground nearby he stooped to collect it then took a few steps forward. He thought perhaps he should finish the gate before he left. He turned back to look at the gate that kept the three sheep in the pen. The fence had obviously been repaired recently as well. "Timber's such a horrible medium," he said. "Who'd want to make anything from timber?" He shrugged. "It's only a gate."

"Singing?" Meledrin asked.

"I don't like singing much," Keeble said. "You dwarves sing way too much. Must be all the timber, I reckon."

"You said you were able to hear singing."

He cocked his head to listen. "You're right," he said, once he'd caught the faint tickle of it in his mind. He was surprised Meledrin had noticed. "It sounds almost like the magical part of Rock Singing, but not quite." He couldn't hear the magic, of course, but he could feel the power of it, the rhythms and melodies waltzing in his mind.

"I hear nothing."

"But you just said..." Keeble grunted in disgust. Looking around for the source of the Singing, he discovered that someone had left a gate half repaired. He shook his head. "Very lazy." He would've finished the job himself but he didn't have time. Making a guess, he strode away through the trees. Meledrin, muttering under her breath, collected her book and bow, and hurried after him, covering the ground one step to his two.

After several minutes of walking Keeble stopped to look. He turned a full circle. "This way," he said, picking a new direction and starting forward again. The feeling was growing within him, flowing into the cracks and fissures of his mind.

The next time he stopped he was in the center of a wide clearing. The main green of Grovely was to the west, several hundred meters away.

"Where are we going?" Meledrin stopped by his side, bow held negligently. She pushed her fiery hair back from her face with long pale fingers as she gazed down at him. Not for the first time, the hidden depths of her green eyes unsettled Keeble. He had a vague thought that the whole idea of her was unsettling, but he couldn't grasp the idea fully. When he hurried on again she stayed where she was. He could feel her watching him like he could feel the Singing. It was as if she knew all about him, or was about to find out.

"What is that?" she said a moment later.

"I told you, I don't know, but it's this way." He flung the words back over his shoulder, silently cursing her loose tongue while he tried to concentrate.

"No," Meledrin said. "What is that?"

Keeble stopped and looked back at the dwife, annoyed that she continued to try to distract him when important matters were afoot. She pointed skywards and he turned to look.

"It's a bird." He turned to continue on.

"Yes. But it's extremely large, is it not?"

He turned for a moment to look, as if he, cave dweller that he was, would know more about the subject than she. "It's still a bird." He started to walk, picking up the threads of the magic rhythm in his mind again. He passed a house that was hardly distinguishable from the natural surroundings. "Ingenious."

"There's another."

Keeble looked again. There were a lot of birds. A lot of big birds. But birds were birds, and the Singing was etching its rhythms onto his bones. "I once saw an eagle with a wingspan of about three meters," he said. The birds they were looking at seemed to be much larger than that, but the Song filled his mind. "I'm not sure if they are birds," he said, having another look. "Whoever called them that is crazy. They're bats." Being a cave dweller, he did know a bit about bats.

He turned and walked quickly through the trees, not really caring if Meledrin followed. He stopped twice more, senses straining, before he was finally sure of his bearings. "This way," he said. With the direction of the Singing set in his mind, he picked up the pace until he was almost running. Dwarves and dwives were all about, clustered in groups and staring off at nothing. They seemed to be ignoring him for a change. Keeble ignored them as well as he wove through the trees. He had more important things in his mind.

"I once saw a bat," he said, "almost a meter from the tip of one wing to the tip of the other." The bats flying over the forest were quite a bit bigger than that. He didn't know if Meledrin was following him.

As the pulsing of the Song grew in his mind Keeble decided that it wasn't really much of a Song at all. "The rhythm is much too complex to follow. If there's a rhythm at all."

But as he walked forward some more, he decided that there was a rhythm, dancing syncopations across his nerves. He felt the flow of his steps changing to match. "There is a rhythm." Or, more accurately, dozens of rhythms. He counted at least fifteen layers to the Song. "It's like a bar full of Singers all Singing at once, bringing their magic to bear on one place."

And that place was a tree.

Keeble stopped at the edge of a clearing and examined the monstrosity before him. "Whistler's Mother," he swore. 'Tree' was hardly a fit description. The tree, of a species he didn't recognize, was enormous. The clearing was more than a hundred meters across and the tree shaded nearly half of that area. "Seventy meters high," he said, though he knew it was not exactly right. For a moment he was horrified by the thought that he wasn't exactly right. He should be exactly right. "And the base has ten meter diameter." Close enough. He nodded to himself as he continued to examine the arboreal giant. Smooth, red tinged bark. Leaves slightly larger than his good hand. And the symphony, the Song, dancing its impossible rhythms in his head.

Three tall, slim dwives were tending the tree. One was high up, sawing slowly at a dead branch. Another was collecting seeds from the ground, seeming to say a prayer over each before placing it carefully in a woven basket. The third, standing on a ladder, was reaching up to check the lowest leaves.

"Bugs, probably." Though Keeble found it hard to believe that any number of bugs could kill such a tree. He hefted his multi-tool and examined the edge of the axe blade. "A blunt spot." He sniffed his distaste. "Would you look at that." He turned to show Meledrin, but she wasn't there. He shrugged and started to move to the base of the tree anyway. He stopped when he heard a shout of fear and shock from behind.

Keeble spun about and peered back the way he'd come. Meledrin was there now, not twenty meters behind, but she wasn't the one who'd shouted. She stood, bow at the ready, looking back as well. Another shout rang out, and a burst of flame seemed to erupt out of nothing. Keeble walked back to stand by Meledrin's side.

"Dragons," the woman said, her emotions held in check like a flock of sheep behind the flimsy gate he'd seen earlier.

"No." He licked his lips. "Explosives."

"What?"

"That isn't natural." He sniffed the air. "There's cordite, sulpher, potassium nitrate, and some other things I don't recognize. Very dangerous mix. Unless one of those ingredients I don't know is the control agent, I suppose."

"We must go back and assist."

He turned his glance skywards for a moment. There were lots of big bats circling overhead. "I don't think we'd be much help."

The dwives who'd been working on the tree seemed to have other ideas. The three of them ran past, long ceremonial dresses not slowing them, hair streaming behind. They each had an arrow nocked.

Keeble shrugged and turned back to the tree. The others would have to fend for themselves. He had more important things to do. He didn't think anything could be done anyway. "I don't have any explosives and no time to make any." And there was no stout war party to take up the defense, just dwives and their bows and dwarves with light swords. He shook his head in disgust. He hadn't seen a war axe or war hammer since arriving.

"The tree can save us, anyway," Keeble said. "I'm not exactly sure how, but there's too much power for it to be otherwise."

The tree was calling to him like a steam whistle starting a work shift. If only this backward place had whistles and shifts. Bats were just bats, even if they could shit fire, as appeared to be happening. But the Song was astounding.

He didn't pause at the edge of the clearing this time. He didn't look up at the tree in case it distracted him. Adjusting his mechanical hand, he strode to the base of the tree and set to work, chopping with strong, economical strokes. He was going to sing a chopping song but none came to mind.

"Stop."

Keeble did stop, but only for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Meledrin staring at him in horror. She still held her bow, but it was forgotten. He turned back to his work. A nagging thought about women. "Bloody women."

Another explosion shook seeds from the tree, bringing them down like hail. Keeble took one from the top of his head and examined it for a moment, spinning it in his fingers, before tossing it away. He set to work again, a smile on his face. Explosions came more regularly. And they came closer. He could almost chop with the rhythm of the explosions.

It was only a dozen strokes before Keeble made a breakthrough. He jarred his good hand badly and almost bent his mechanical one when a thin wall of wood fell apart. It showed empty space beyond. At almost the same time Meledrin grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back from the tree. The woman was stronger than she looked, but he twisted free and glared at her.

"What do you think you are doing, Keeble?" Her voice was shaking with rage. "How dare you touch the Ohoga tree. You profane this sacred place just by being here."

"Do you really think that matters now?" He gestured to the sky, and there were still dozens of the huge bats there. Each had an assembly of shining metallic cylinders strapped to its belly, and they all wheeled about as if looking for somewhere to land. The clearing where the huge tree was located was an obvious choice.

The first of the creatures shook the trees with its enormous wings and settled to the ground even as Keeble and Meledrin watched.

Keeble had a vague feeling he should be afraid, but he wasn't. "The Song gives me strength," he said. Or perhaps it just distracted him.

Fires were sending thick blankets of smoke through the forest. People were shouting, screaming.

"Perhaps it isn't a bat," he said, cocking his head to one side as he looked. "It isn't quite a bat and isn't quite a bird." Either term would probably do.

For a tree, the tree was huge, but the bat-bird would've crushed it had it tried to find a perch. It flared its leathery wings for a moment to get its balance, and it was like a storm cloud had passed across the sun.

"Forty meters across," Keeble said. "It has to weigh a few ton. Something like that shouldn't be able to get off the ground. Especially with those cylinders."

But the Song was still echoing around the corners of his mind, and he'd broken through to a hollow section of the giant tree, so he didn't want to spend time working out size to weight ratios. He turned and started chopping again.

Another explosion shook the ground, and Keeble almost lost his rhythm. The Song kept him working steadily though, kept his mind focussed.

"Stop." Meledrin's face was even paler than usual.

"The tree is hollow, woman." He took a great chunk of the tree away and crouched down to look into the hole. There was nothing to see.

"Keeble."

The dwarf turned. Meledrin had backed away a few steps and was pointing her bow at him. An arrow was drawn back to her cheek. He looked into her green eyes and shivered at what he saw there.

"Guess you'll just have to kill me. The tree is hollow. Don't you think that's strange? And there's a huge bat behind you with cylinders strapped to its belly." What they did to flight dynamics was unthinkable. Dwarves had been working on flight for a few years. "If anyone had come up with something like that bat they'd have been laughed out of the mountain. And quite possibly the forest as well, though who knows with you strange dwarves."

The bat had crouched and brightly armored figures were emerging from the two outermost canisters. The first such person was almost as tall as Meledrin and wore a chunky, riveted suit of armor with flaking green and purple paint. The second was the same. They were only thirty meters away.

"There's a huge bat behind you that seems to be a vehicle for people." His subconscious calculations of flight dynamics were thrown into the forge, and he began to recast them. "Can those people move about in the canisters, do you think? Or are they strapped in? What are they strapped to? What are those suits made from? They could use a gas that's lighter than air." He nodded in satisfaction. That idea had been doing the rounds recently in Tab Cavern. "Has to be it."

"What?" Meledrin still had her bow drawn. Thankfully it was pointing the other way. It was pointed at the first colorful figure but Keeble didn't think it would have much effect.

The ground was moving in a nonstop dance now. Keeble was having trouble staying on his feet, and he could hardly even hear himself speak over the hum of giant wings, the crackle of fire, and the clamor of battle.

"A gas that's lighter than air — hydrogen for instance. That could alleviate some of the weight problems. Though probably not enough, really." He started his calculations again, working on the presumption that the canisters were filled with hydrogen and the people inside either breathed the hydrogen — would that make them lighter than they appeared as well? — or carried oxygen tanks somewhere in their brightly colored armor.

He turned and continued to cut while he thought. He swung his multi-tool with calm urgency, taking out great chunks of wood with each powerful blow.

A fire erupted nearby.

After a flurry of strokes Keeble finally opened up a hole large enough to crawl through. He turned once more to look at Meledrin and was just in time to see her loose her first arrow.

The long shaft hit one of the strangers on the base of the neck and bounced away harmlessly. A second shaft hit the same place a moment later. And a third.

Keeble liked the idea but didn't think it'd work. "I don't think you'll weaken the armor like that," he said.

All she'd managed to do was draw the strangers' attention, which Keeble didn't think was such a good idea. Three of the figures swiveled slowly in their direction. The armor screeched in protest.

For a moment Keeble wondered what to do. Explosions were toppling trees all around Grovely with casual efficiency. Attacking from above: what an advantage.

"Shoot the bat," he shouted to Meledrin. He was about to say 'shoot the bird' as well, in case she was confused by the changing names. But, she shifted targets almost instantly, letting fly with deadly accuracy towards the huge bat's head. She hit an eye once, twice, eliciting screams from the wounded creature, then aimed lower, at it's exposed neck. The first shaft bounced away, but the second bit deeply.

Keeble grunted. "Huh. Just might work." It wouldn't work if she weren't given more time. With another grunt and a shake of his head, he raced towards the nearest of the armored figures.

"Stupid bloody dwarf." He dropped his shoulder and barged through the first of the figures. It fell to the ground and squirmed like an overturned tortoise.

Keeble might well have used the same tactics for the next target, but his shoulder was numbed from the collision. "That armor is bloody heavy. It explains why they're so slow," he said, as he swung his axe one-handed. The tool almost shuddered from his grasp when he made contact with an armored chest. "But it also makes them hard to hurt." And it affected the calculations that were running through his mind. The Song was still dancing around in his skull and he fitted his new sums in with it.

"I wonder if there are more armored people in that middle cylinder." It was impossible to tell.

For the next swing he reversed the tool in his hand and attacked a knee with the sledge. There was a loud crack and a hiss of air, but apparently no other result. Help for his victim was arriving, though at a slow, plodding rate. Keeble looked around and noticed that most of the armored figures, all painted the same colors, were pointing bulbous arms in his direction.

"Weapons." He darted to the side. He gasped. The hair on his arm stood on end as an almost-visible beam of power passed close by. "Whistler's Mother. That felt like electricity."

More of the bats were nearing the clearing, presumably coming to drop off their passengers.

"Get into the tree, Meledrin," Keeble shouted. The woman had run out of arrows and stood silently watching. "Typical woman. Being able to fire arrows doesn't help if you have no head for battle."

"I cannot hide," she said after a moment. "I cannot run away."

"Forget it. What you can't do is win." Keeble moved quickly back to his most recent target and struck at the side of the already damaged knee. The figure tumbled to the ground, and Keeble whooped in delight.

Then he took a parting swing at someone else and ran. "Get in the tree, stupid dwife. That or die." He ran harder. The distance to the tree seemed to have grown. "You can't help anyone if you're dead, Meledrin."

"It is not possible that the hollow in the tree is large enough to hide us, Keeble."

Keeble ran. "I don't know. But it will. It has to." The Song was beautiful and powerful and had taken a hold of his soul. "The Song is calling me to the tree." It wouldn't let him die.

Finally the woman turned and crossed to the tree. A sizzling beam of energy passed through the spot where she'd been standing.

"Definitely electricity." Dwarves had known about electricity for twenty-two years, but nothing like that.

He looked back over his shoulder. A dozen arms were zeroing in on him, but seemed to move in slow motion. But he was even slower than they were. Loath as he was to do it, he dropped his tool. It wasn't good to leave tools lying around, but he was able to run quicker.

When Keeble reached the tree Meledrin had only just entered the hole. As he scrambled in himself he felt a sizzle of energy melt the soles of his boots and send a spasm through his legs.

"For Whistler's sake, woman, move. Move." He pushed at her, poking with his mechanical hand. "The tree is huge, you must be able to get in further than that." He didn't know why he'd thought the tree would save them, but the Song still filled his mind and he could not doubt.

When he looked back, he saw the armored figures closing in.

4: Tree and Sky

Kim opened her eyes, but the owner of the rough, gravely voice was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around, dark eyes narrowing in concentration. Though she couldn't understand what was being said, the urgency was palpable.

Kim rose from the bench and scanned the shadows at the edge of the forest. She couldn't see anything and jumped slightly when the voice returned. It was closer than she thought.

“[Keep going, for Whistler's sake. For my sake.]”

It was a strange language, like nothing Kim had ever heard before.

“[I am not a mule, Keeble. All that prodding will not make me move faster.]”

This second voice was soft and calm. A woman's voice like a dollop of golden honey compared to the rasping landslide of the man. Kim still couldn't understand anything more than the tone. The man was seriously stressed. The woman seemed unconcerned.

Kim squinted towards the dark mouth of the Major Oak, sure she spied movement. She walked warily back to the fence that penned the tree in but obviously had little effect in keeping people out.

“[Wait,]” the man said in a harsh whisper. “[Can you smell that?]”

“[Smell what?]”

“[You're a forest dweller and you can't smell the difference?]”

“[I noticed the difference, Keeble, but was unsure if you were referring to something more specific. I was unsure if you would notice.]”

“[Well I did.]” He grunted. “[I seem to be thinking clearer than I have for ages.]”

"Hello?" Kim said. People had commented on her stupidity on numerous occasions; she never knew when it was best to give curiosity the finger and head on her way. She felt this was going to be one of those occasions. "Hello. I don't think you're supposed to be in there, you know?" That was obvious, really, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

The woman stepped into view inside the tree.

Kim gasped, on the edge of bolting, before getting control. “Whoever's lighting this film should be paid more,” she said softly.

Shadows covered half the stranger's face, leaving her looking mysterious and slightly ominous. She stood perfectly still for a long moment, green eyes unreadable. Then she turned sideways and carefully climbed through the sinuous slot in the tree and out into the open.

"Very dramatic," Kim said. "How long have you been hiding in there, waiting to surprise someone?"

“[Hello.]” As she spoke, the woman wove her fingers in something that may have been sign language. She was tall and lithe with pale skin and sharp features. Her long green dress worked well with her auburn hair. It looked as if she had just stepped out of a beauty salon, not a tree. She appeared calm enough, but glanced back over her shoulder as if worried she'd forgotten to lock her car.

After the graceful, beautiful woman, the man who emerged from the shadows was hardly what Kim expected, though his voice should have given him away. He declined to be dramatic, immediately squeezing out of the confines of the tree with lots of grunting and cursing. He wasn't very tall at all and had a broad, swarthy face and unkempt beard. He wore ragged, dirty pants and a linen shirt.

He sniffed the air. “[Told you. If this is your forest then I'll sit on my hands and do nothing for the rest of the day.]”

A mechanical contraption of medieval appearance had been fitted in place of his missing left hand. He wound some gears that adjusted the hand before stumping across to the fence and hauling himself over.

Kim stared for a moment longer.

“[Where are we, dwife?]” the man asked in the impossible language.

The woman added something equally unintelligible, and they stared at each other.

"Great costumes," Kim said eventually. They were the best she'd seen. "A dwarf and an elf, right?" She still didn't know why people insisted on coming to a medieval festival dressed as fantasy creatures. And she didn't know why they'd go to the bother of inventing a language. Though the woman looked slightly Nordic, so perhaps they were speaking something Nordic?

The man asked his question again, sounding out each word as if Kim might understand the gobbledygook any better.

"I," Kim replied. "Don't," she added. "Understand."

It appeared he'd speak once more, but the woman forestalled him with a quiet word and another wave of her long fingers. She climbed the fence with much more grace than the man had managed and, after demurely smoothing her dress, pointed to herself. "Meledrin," she said, slowly and clearly. She then pointed to her companion. "Keeble."

Kim thought for a moment. There were two possibilities here. One: these two really didn't speak English. Or two: they were just having some fun at Robin Hood's birthday party. Kim remembered the words of the witch and decided to play along. She pointed to herself as the other woman had and stated her name. Then she waved and said, "Hello."

The man grunted but Meledrin bowed slightly in response before waving and also saying, "Hello." Then, crouching down, she laid a hand on the ground and looked up with a question in her eyes.

Now what? Did she want to know grass? Or ground? Or England? Or Nottinghamshire? Or Sherwood Forest? Kim was saved the trouble of figuring it out when a sound intruded. There was a clatter and a screech of metal as another figure stepped into sight beyond the split in the tree. This one was about the same size as Meledrin but wore some kind of colorful, full-length armor and had no hope of getting out into the open. It stood, silent and watching.

Elves and dwarves were easy enough to recognize, but the newcomer was beyond belief. Maybe it was a supposed to be a robot, which was stretching things even for Robin Hood's fans. The thick, chunky armor, with huge rivets holding together the seams, must've been taken through the slot piecemeal and assembled inside. The head swiveled one way, then the next, as if it might find some alternate escape route.

"Hello," Kim said, waving slightly. "How many more people have you got in there?"

The robot stopped his inspection of the tree. Kim had the feeling he was staring straight at her but couldn't be sure.

After an interminable moment in which nobody moved, the robot took a slight step to the side and started to raise his arm.

“[Look out.]”

Keeble grabbed Kim and pulled her a few meters to the side.

"Hey, buddy, watch it."

“[That thing'll fry you where you stand.]”

"What?"

In the tree, the robot was having difficulties. Apparently there was enough room in there for three people, but not enough room to raise his arm. The bulbous appendage hit against the wood three times before he gave up.

“[Isn't that a shame?]” Keeble said. He flung himself back over the fence and strode purposefully to the tree. He looked as if he wanted to attack either the tree or its occupant, but the first was pointless and the second impossible to do through the crack. So Keeble stood talking animatedly to the armored figure instead. The tone was more apparent than ever, and Kim thought she could pick the profanity from amongst the clutter.

Perhaps the robot stared back defiantly. It was impossible to tell. It did try to raise its arm again, as if reality might've ducked out the back for a coffee and let things slip out of control. Kim knew how he was feeling.

"Hello, Kim," Meledrin said.

Kim snapped her attention to the tall, thin woman while Keeble continued to rant.

"What's going on?" she asked. Finally, the figure in the tree turned laboriously and disappeared.

Meledrin spoke, but Kim hardly took any notice. She squinted into the tree, trying to see where the robot guy might be hiding.

"Meledrin," Meledrin said again, pointing at herself. Then she pointed to the ground and said a single word in the strange language. “[Where?]”

"Can't help you." Kim turned and quickly made her way back towards the festival. Wondering where she could report what she'd just seen. Wondering exactly what she intended to say.

Ten minutes later, Kim had started to calm down and think clearly. Back amongst the stalls she slowed down and breathed deeply. It was street theatre. She wasn't convinced but she was not going to report that an elf and dwarf were setting up house in the Major Oak.

She took another deep breath and stopped to look around.

Nearby, traditional Scottish dancers were leaping their way through a number to the accompaniment of pipes and drums. An old man was regaling people with stories of dragons and damsels in distress. And, further down the aisle between the tents, the two monks were just pulling out the 'one wheeled chariot of doom' for another session.

Street theatre, Kim thought again.

She checked her watch and pulled out her phone to see if Nina had called again. Of course not. She was stuck here for a while longer yet. "Damn." She walked to the cricket field, looking for something to occupy her mind, and discovered she was in time for the archery demonstration the wicked witch had mentioned earlier. A group of archers were checking over their equipment just outside the roped off area of the camp. About fifty meters away, down past the grandstand, some squires, or something similar, were erecting targets.

There was still a bit of crowd left over from the tourney, and fifteen minutes later more people started to arrive. Kim caught sight of Meledrin and Keeble as the mismatched pair crossed purposefully to where she sat halfway along the range. Meledrin joined her on the grassy bank and the man stood stock sill at the base of the slope.

"Why you..." Meledrin gestured, wiggling her fingers in the air as if attempting to entice forth the elusive word. "Why you go?"

"Oh, so suddenly you speak English? How surprising. I went because I didn't want to sit in the forest playing games."

"I no understand much. Games?"

"Yes, games."

"I know not this."

Kim sighed.

"Think you I speak English?"

"Obviously you do."

"Now, yes. Before, no."

"Yeah, right. Go play with someone else." Kim turned to look out over the field as a trumpeter, bright blue feather in his floppy hat, blew a fanfare.

"Play?" Meledrin said. “[These people talk in circles. And backwards and forwards.]” At the bottom of the slope, Keeble grunted and shrugged, paying more attention to the arriving spectators than the conversation. Kim tried to ignore everyone. “[It will take forever to understand them.]”

“[I can barely understand you half the time.]” Keeble fiddled with the gears on his mechanical hand.

"I no speak English before. Learn. Listen, follow. Much speak." She gestured at the growing crowd around them. "Elves have language knowledge. Learn quick."

As more people started to arrive Keeble moved to sit beside his friend. Kim considered returning to her car.

"I no speak English. When enter from..." Meledrin stopped and pointed at a tree.

"Tree."

She shrugged. "Tree? When enter from tree I knowing words you say. Elf and dwarf you say. What?"

“[What's all this talk of elves?]” Keeble asked.

Kim ignored Keeble's gibberish, answering Meledrin. "Because that's obviously what you're supposed to be."

“[You haven't seen elves around here, have you, Meledrin?]”

"Supposed? What 'supposed'?"

“[I don't like elves. All that singing and poetry.]”

"Meant. That's what you want people to think."

"Ah. If we supposed elf and dwarf, why not?"

“[Poetry won't get you through the winter. It won't make life easier.]”

Kim was ignoring Keeble because she had no idea what he was saying. Meledrin seemed to consciously avoid looking his way.

Kim tried to gather her thoughts. "You aren't an elf because this isn't Midkemia or Middle Earth. It's just plain old Earth." Kim thought that maybe the man really was a dwarf. Under a meter fifty, wasn’t it? She didn't know. He had to be close but she was pretty sure that wasn't what Meledrin meant.

"Why think?"

"Because he's short and squat and hairy. And you're tall and thin and pale."

"If that description elf, why I not?"

"Because they don't exist."

"Don't exist?"

"Aren't real."

"Ahh. I sorry hear. How say? Other elves knowing will not be please not existing, I think."

"I'm sure."

"What make elf else?"

Like a large portion of the world Kim had read Lord of the Rings and seen the movies, but it had been a while ago. "Pointy ears. They all have pointy ears. And an affinity with trees and forests. Skill at archery."

"Pointy ears?"

Kim made a triangle with her fingers and held it up to her ear. "Pointy ears." She didn't know why she was bothering. Just trying to be polite again.

"Ah." Meledrin pushed her hair away from her own ear. It wouldn't be used for impaling fruit, but it was pointy.

"Huh." Kim said. "The makeup guy needs an Oscar as well." It looked very real.

Meledrin was moving on though. "What affinity? And what archery?"

"Affinity is a close connection. A link."

"Connection? Link?"

"And archery is that." Kim pointed out onto the cricket field where three of the archers were lining up facing the targets that were down in front of the grand stand. They seemed to be using handmade recreations of traditional weapons.

"Archery? Ah." Meledrin climbed to her feet and stepped lightly through the crowd. “[An opportunity to order my thoughts, if nothing else.]”

"Where's she going?" Kim decided the woman was quite possibly insane and should be stopped. She jumped to her feet and followed, though not nearly as gracefully.

"Sorry. Coming through. Sorry."

A string of muttered curses and surly oaths followed her path, and the sound swelled as Keeble barged along behind. She stumbled down to the fine leg boundary and hurried towards the archers.

Meledrin, calm and assured, was talking to the first of the men when Kim arrived.

"...use archery?"

"Pardon?"

"Will let me use..." she seemed to realize that she hadn't used the word 'archery' correctly and simply gestured to the bow.

"You want to use my bow?"

"Your bow? Yes."

"Sorry, love, can't let you do that. I put a lot of time and effort into this bow. Almost eighteen months. I can't afford to get it damaged. We'll be showing people how to use bows later though. Come back then."

"I not damage bow. I skilled, but friend Kim not..."

"Believe," Kim suggested, sighing and shaking her head. "Think it's true."

"Not believe." Meledrin nodded her thanks. "I use once? If not believe, give back."

The next archer in line cleared his throat. "Let her have a go, Bill. What harm can she do with you standing there watching?"

"You let her use yours then."

"Sure. Okay." The next man held out his bow for Meledrin to take, eying her slim form appreciatively as he did so. Ulterior motives abounded. "Here, Ma'am. Try mine."

Kim sighed and shook her head again.

Meledrin bowed her thanks, a graceful maneuver that left the receiver gaping, then stepped lightly forward. Before she took the weapon she pulled her hair back into a thick ponytail and tied it with a green ribbon pulled from her sleeve.

"Fine bow," she said in a hushed voice. She wove her hand in another of the strange, intricate patterns then finally took the bow. She plucked an arrow from the man's quiver, muttering under her breath, and nocked it as she tested the tension of the string. Kim watched silently. She knew almost nothing about archery, but the other woman seemed sure and confident.

"Where?" Meledrin gestured vaguely.

For a moment Kim wasn't sure what she meant. "The targets?" She looked to the right. "The targets are just there."

"There?" Meledrin laughed. "But they there."

The man who had loaned her his bow shook his head. "What did you expect?"

"I not use that close target since child."

The first archer laughed. "Show us then, love."

Keeble looked bored, standing and shuffling his feet at all the talk he apparently couldn't understand. He was muttering something under his breath.

Meledrin raised the bow, drawing the arrow back to her cheek. "A fine bow," she said again. "But wrong weight slightly." With that she let fly and, a moment later, the arrow struck the target, dead center.

The crowd surrounding the field, growing restless with the wait, clapped loudly. Some cheered and whistled. Kim looked from Meledrin to Keeble and back again.

A couple of the archers still waiting their turn whistled appreciatively.

The owner of the bow cleared his throat. "The weight isn't out, actually," he said. "I'm left-handed."

"Left-handed?"

"Yeah." The man mimed using the bow left-handed.

"Oh, yes. Should known." Meledrin plucked another arrow from the quiver and, using the bow left handed, put the second arrow into the target, right beside the first. She nodded in satisfaction. "That much better. Fine bow."

There was more cheering from the crowd and more gaping from the archers.

"I not prove tree affinity, Kim, so would like I do else?" With a muttered phrase, the woman took another arrow and turned to look towards the other end of the cricket field. "What is that?" she asked, gesturing.

"What?" The breeze was chasing a plastic bag across the outfield on the other side of the pitch. It was about a hundred and fifty meters away. "That's just a bag. Rubbish."

"Rubbish? Not important?"

"That's right."

Meledrin raised the bow, drew and fired in one smooth motion. She hardly seemed to aim at all. A couple of seconds later, the arrowed pinned the bag to the outfield.

The owner of the bow was impressed. "Wow."

Kim was impressed.

Meledrin didn't seem to think anything of it. "Need help, Kim. My people killed now."

"What?"

"Think you that perhaps these warriors assist, if spoke you with them?"

"Which warriors?"

Meledrin gesture at the archers and then some of the armored figures who'd taken part in the earlier mock battles.

"They aren't warriors. They're just people in costumes."

"What costumes?"

"A costume is... What am I saying? You're in a costume, you daft woman."

"You still not believe?"

"No."

Meledrin took Kim by the arm in a firm but gentle grip and started to lead her away, back towards the main green and the Major Oak beyond.

"Wait a minute. What's going on here?" Kim said, twisting free. Meledrin reacted, but an instant too late, and she could do nothing. As Kim dropped instinctively into a fighting crouch, Meledrin looked shocked. Keeble was smiling slightly.

One of the warriors standing nearby, a big man with shining armor and a long sword, stepped forward to assist. It was Sir Douglas, from earlier, seeing another opportunity, Kim supposed. He was about fifty centimeters taller than Keeble, but he stood in front of Douglas and didn't back down. Apparently the little man's amusement only went so far when it came to violence.

Kim tried to divide her glance between Keeble and Meledrin, not sure who she should be worried about. Meledrin was obviously in charge, but the time had come for action.

"Please, Kim. Come, I show. You believe." Meledrin bowed her head slightly and waved her fingers.

"This is just crazy."

"Perhaps, Kim. But there perhaps be more —"

“[Forget it, Meledrin,]” Keeble said. “[She can't help us now.]”

Kim turned to look at the little man, but he was staring out at nothing and not really offering any clue as to what he was saying. Sir Douglas was looking mighty annoyed at being ignored.

“[Of course she can. All we need is —]”

“[No, look.]”

He pointed, and Kim realized he wasn't looking at nothing. But she didn't understand why it was so fascinating. It was just a bird.

Kim blinked. She licked her lips and blinked again, narrowing her eyes against the afternoon sun. The bird was further away than she had first thought but it was huge, as big as a jumbo jet and even less likely to fly. "Jesus."

But it wasn't really a bird. It was a bit like a bat, with huge, leathery, strangely jointed wings. And, even stranger, there were three metal cylinders strapped beneath it.

Kim looked at Keeble, then Meledrin, then back out at the thing.

“[I think we should take cover.]”

The thing kept coming, whatever it was, and a minute later it was over the cricket field, only thirty meters off the ground. Kim thought she could hear the thrumming of its wings. There was no other sound. The crowd had fallen silent. Everyone was watching.

A huge, winged shadow skittered across the cricket pitch as the creature straightened, steadied.

"I don't like the look of that." Kim instinctively took a step back. And just as she did, a pair of square, shining canisters dropped from the middle of the three cylinders strapped to the creature. Her heart rate skyrocketed.

“[Get down,]” Keeble yelled.

Kim stared at him stupidly. She couldn't exactly understand the words, but she knew what he meant and still she didn't move. Keeble grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ground. He and Meledrin both covered their heads, but Kim looked at the crowd and the two packages — she couldn't help but think of them as bombs — falling towards the grandstand. Time seemed to slow, stretch, contort. She could hear the rushing of blood in her ears.

People were scattering in all directions, but not quickly enough.

5: Weapons of War

The explosions came in quick succession. The ground shook and a huge gout of flame shot into the air. Shrapnel whizzed past, thudding into trees, people, and armor, ripping holes in tents. A wave of heat followed. Something heavy hit the ground a few meters away, and Kim, in a daze, turned to look. A fallen branch had crushed a tent at the edge of the forest. A rain of leaves drifted down as well. It was beautiful. Mesmerizing. Until the sounds of the screams hit her like a Mohammed Ali jab. She snapped her attention to the crowd. Or what was left of it.

The grandstand had collapsed. The timber seats were burning, the metal frame twisting in the heat. People were still running, but not many. Most were lying on the ground. Some writhed in pain, but for the most part they were still, burnt black in a moment. In a dozen places small fires burned where something like napalm had set people and clothes and grass alight.

"Shit." Kim got to her knees and stared. "Shit, shit, shit." She wanted to run and help, but she stayed rooted to the spot like the Major Oak. Her feet stood still while her mind ran in circles.

Closer, more people had been injured. One woman bled from a head wound and Sir Douglas, teeth gritted, was plucking a shard of metal from his arm. Another piece was lodged in his breastplate. While Kim watched, the knight tore a strip off his clothing to bandage his wound then went to help someone else. And still Kim couldn't move. She knelt and stared while people wailed and screamed around her. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry.

"Hey."

A little boy was crying nearby. He was bleeding from a wound on his leg.

"Hey. Help me with this, will you."

Kim turned and saw one of the 'German' cannoneers — a short, balding man on the wrong side of fifty. He had picked up one of the ropes used to pull a cannon into position and was trying to get it out of the camp and into the open.

"Hey." He was talking to an archer but the man stood in shocked silence and it was doubtful he'd be any use at all for a while yet. Then he saw Kim and turned his attention to her. "Help me with this," he said in his English accent. "There's another one of the damn birds."

Kim followed his pointing finger.

"Just grab the rope and pull."

Kim was trained to follow orders in battle. She did as told and Keeble came to help as well.

“[This had better be a cannon,]” he said as he pushed at the back. “[It looks a bit flimsy.]”

Kim had no idea what he said, but she pulled on the rope and tried to keep up. The little man was surprisingly strong and his low center of gravity gave him good leverage.

The cannoneer stopped pulling for a moment to shout at five of his friends. "Sonneberg Artillery. Don't just stand there. Gets those cannon moving." He let go of the rope completely and went to shout from closer range. The other men hadn't moved.

"Are you crazy, Johnno?" said someone from inside a tent. It wasn't the best place to seek protection from bombs.

Keeble kept pushing, so Kim kept working as well. It seemed better than thinking about the people in the crowd. Or about any of the other things she might think about. She pulled on the rope and tried not to think.

"Are we artillery men or are we just playing with our toy guns?" Johnno shouted.

He pushed someone towards a second cannon and glared at another man until he went to help. Soon all three cannons were heading for the open ground. Another four men were getting a large chest from beside a tent. They pushed through the onlookers, straining with their burden.

“[This is the worst bunch of soldiers I've ever seen,]” Keeble said as he took a quick look over his shoulder. “[Pathetic.]”

Johnno encouraged his men one moment and abused them the next and soon had all the cannons lined up about five meters apart.

"Harry, what's the range at maximum elevation?"

"Christ, Johnno, I don't know," a big man replied, barely keeping the quaver out of his voice. "We've never fired them at maximum elevation."

"We've got no chance of hitting a moving target," said one of the men lugging the chest. "Can we load shrapnel of some kind? Cutlery maybe?"

Johnno pointed at the bat. "We don't have time."

Kim looked again. "Shit." She took a couple of steps back and looked over her shoulder to see just how far away the forest was. Her heart was racing.

"Come on boys, let's do this." Johnno strode along behind the three cannon, checking to see the alignment of each, as if they could possibly know what they were going to need. "We've fired these things hundreds of times. Easy as pie."

One of the men looked at him and shook his head. "Who're you kidding, John?" A couple of the others looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Where's Boydie?"

"Here." He'd been helping with the chest and was now pulling a key from a chain around his neck. He was a thin man with a long nose and hollow cheeks. His costume seemed about two sizes too big, as if he was expected to grow into it. Now was his chance.

Johnno jumped. Up until then he had been as calm as a seasoned campaigner but his tension finally came through for a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, with mixed results. "Good. Excellent. Let's load up then." His leg was shaking. He grabbed it with his hand to get it under control. Kim wished it were all that easy as she wiped sweat from her own hands.

The bat was coming in over the trees.

Two men adjusted the cannon's muzzle height while Boydie supervised the loading.

Kim watched as Johnno took a packet of matches from his pocket. She wiped sweat from her face, licked her lips and examined the bat. Two minutes at most. Did they have time? Did they have any choice? She looked back at the remains of the crowd. A couple of hundred injured people and bodies littered the edge of the cricket field. They were a writhing, moaning mass. About the same number had come from the forest. Some were helping while many just stood and stared.

She swallowed and watched the cannoneers working. The bat seemed to come so quickly; the men seemed to work so slowly. Christ. What the hell are they doing?

They were waving their sword at the dragon and not waiting for the experts, that was what they were doing.

When the first cannon was loaded, the men moved on to the next, and someone came forward to fill the fuse hole with gunpowder.

Kim looked around, as if hoping someone sensible would turn up to tell her what was really happening. Her heart pounded. She suddenly needed to go to the toilet. Smoke drifted across the field. The sounds of death and pain came with it. And the smell. Burned flesh. Fire. Explosives. Fear.

"We ready?"

Kim looked back at Johnno in his costume. Panic clawed at his eyes, trying to get out. But he held a match in his hand, and it was as steady as a rock. The bat was still a long way out; surely the cannon couldn't fire that far.

"Beware," Johnno yelled.

Everyone nearby turned to look at him, even those in the important loading detail.

"Fire in the hole."

Everyone covered their ears, and Kim thought it might be a good idea if she did the same. Keeble seemed to work out what was going on just in time. He covered his ears just as Johnno lit the match and touched it to the fuse.

The explosion was much louder close up. Kim's ears were ringing as she watched the cannonball sail majestically across the field. It cleared the pitch square, cleared the field, and crashed into the trees on the far side. A couple of hundred meters.

She stared through the drifts of smoke for a long time after the ball had landed. It was crazy. The first shot had fallen well short of the bat — Johnno obviously didn't know much about the capabilities of his cannons — but possibly had some use as a range finder. Stupid bloody Englishmen, trying to hit a moving target with a cannon that had never been fired in anger.

The bat was still coming.

"Don't just stand there," Johnno bellowed. "Finish loading those cannon."

Boydie and his assistants got back to work. Keeble rushed over to watch them, chattering constantly in his strange language. Meledrin had reappeared and stood watching. After a few moments she said something to Keeble and he fell silent, though he didn't look happy about it.

The next cannon was loaded, and Boydie moved to the third.

"What do you think, Harry?" Johnno asked.

"Not yet," the big man replied, suddenly an expert after his earlier protestations. He seemed much calmer, too. "A few more seconds."

"Range was good on that first one," Johnno said proudly. Then he shook his head. "The height is what'll screw us."

Harry gave a bark of humorless laughter. "That's confidence for you. I reckon there's about a dozen things that are gunna screw us."

Kim couldn't believe what she was hearing. "This is crazy," she said. "What the hell are you doing?" She looked into the woods and wondered if it was too late to run. It probably wasn't, but she stayed where she was.

Johnno shrugged. "Some jobs have got to be done," he said. "And some times the right person isn't available, so the only person has to do it."

"Christ." Wiping her hand on her jeans, Kim turned to look at the sky. The bat was coming. It was almost there.

Johnno got out his matches again as he shouted at some of his men to get the second cannon repositioned.

"We ready?" Johnno shouted. He answered his own question. "Looks good to me. Beware." And a couple of seconds later, "Fire in the hole."

But that couple of seconds was too long. Kim knew it as soon as she saw the ball's flight path. It was going to cross behind the bat.

Kim uncovered her ears in time to hear Johnno swear. He moved to the next cannon and shouted as his companions to adjust it.

The bat was only a hundred meters from the remains of the crowd. It was almost skimming along the ground, moving fast and sure.

"Beware." Johnno came forward, and Kim jumped back out of the way. "Fire in the hole."

It was going to be close. Maybe.

Kim shaded her eyes to watch. She willed the cannonball on. Her heart skipped a beat. "Shit." She leaned to the right. She leaned further, hoping to upset the tilt of the world. Hoping to affect the spin of the universe for just one moment. She was aware of others doing the same. "Shit."

The bat kept coming, bearing down on the injured people as if they were still a threat. As if they'd ever been a threat.

Boydie was already at work on the first cannon, stuffing gunpowder down the muzzle. He would be too late, though. There was no doubt about that. Way too late.

The bat was almost there. Kim thought of closing her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, wiped at her face. She didn't want to watch but couldn't look away. Her heart still pounded, a million beats a minute.

The bat dipped lower. Time seemed to stop. For just a moment.

Breathe.

Then, out of nowhere, a jet streaked across the sky.

"Harrier," Kim shouted. She felt like jumping for joy but kept her feet on the ground. The plane looked the worse for wear, but it was still a sight for smoke-stung eyes. Kim relaxed slightly, wiped at her face again, started to breathe without conscious thought.

The experts.

She watched a long line of tracers pummel the bat from the side, seemed to feel each impact. The creature fell from the sky like a lead balloon. It screeched and writhed, tossing its head with the pain. Then the canisters strapped to its belly exploded. Long arms of flame reached for the crowd. Almost got them. Shrapnel did. Kim ducked instinctively as new screams joined the ones from earlier.

More injuries. It wasn't good, but better than it could've been.

Then the jet was gone, out of sight behind the trees, and the sound washed over them like a tsunami.

Kim turned to look for Johnno, to tell him that, sometimes, the right people were available. But Johnno was dead. Gagging, Kim locked her knees to keep herself upright. He'd been right there, a nice old guy who probably had a wife who cooked him bacon and eggs for breakfast and ironed his cannoneer uniform every week. Now he was lying on the ground with a piece of metal the size of a CD embedded in his skull.

He could have run. It would have been the sensible thing to do. If Kim had been able to get her legs moving at the right time, she would've run. But now? Now it was too late. The bat thing was dead. Johnno was dead. Half the crowd were dead.

Kim fell to her knees and cried. The sound of it was lost amongst the chorus.

Half the crowd were dead. The half that weren't were either injured or trying to help. Sir Douglas was nearby, crouched over a boy in a page's costume. The knight had a fresh gash on his forehead, and the metal was still lodged in his breastplate, but he didn't seem to notice. An old woman, dressed in the lace and frills of a lady, was looking at someone else. They probably weren't the right people for the job, but they, and others like them, were the only people.

Kim climbed slowly to her feet. She was probably more right than most. She'd been in the army. She had training, even if it was a couple of years out of date. She should be helping, not standing around like some stunned tourist. She'd felt nothing but disdain for Douglas earlier, but he was doing his best to prove her wrong.

"Shit." Kim didn't like being proven wrong. Deep breath. There were injured people scattered amongst the tents behind her, but relatively few. Most were already being seen to. She glanced at Johnno wondering when someone would come to help him. Swallowing, she set off across the field and tried to order her thoughts. There would be burns. There would be panicking friends and relatives. There would be people with good intentions who should not be left in charge of a Band-Aid and a box of aspirin. She dragged up memories from the army that she hadn't used for years.

But Kim was only halfway to the edge of the field when somebody tugged on her sleeve. She turned to see Keeble and Meledrin.

"Will help us now?" Meledrin asked. "These creature attack my people as well."

"What?"

“[I don't think we're going anywhere yet, woman.]”

Keeble was pointing again. Kim followed his finger out to where another bat was heading towards them.

"Damn it." Kim almost fell to her knees again. She'd thought the main danger was past. She looked in the direction the jet had gone. It was probably halfway to London by now. For a moment she was caught. She'd been on a mission to help the injured and was suddenly loath to abort that plan. But if nobody did anything about the bat then the help would be short-lived and possibly painful.

So, she would wave her sword at the dragons. She would tilt at the windmills. "Damn it." Kim raced back the way she'd come. She was crying once more.

"Boydie?" she called. It came out as hardly more than a squeak. She cleared her throat. "Boydie, get those cannon loaded." The skinny man was sitting on the ground tying a makeshift bandage around his leg.

"What?" But he saw for himself. "We don't have time."

He was probably right but Kim pointed at the mass of injured people on the other side of the field. "They're the ones who don't have time."

"But..."

Kim crouched down and finished tying the bandage. Her hands were shaking. "Come on. Get moving." She looked around. "Cannoneers," she shouted, "let's go."

Keeble had already opened the chest and was poking amongst the contents. Kim wasn't sure if that was a great idea but let him keep going. It proved to be the right decision. Boydie saw what was going on and scrambled to his feet.

"Get out of there," he said, shooing the little man away.

"If you aren't going to do it," Kim said with a smile, "then someone has to."

Boydie sighed and, in a surprisingly loud voice, called to his companions. He set to work straight away while the others gathered about him, shuffling their feet and watching the sky nervously. It seemed they would stand there all day or, at least, right up to the time when they got a bomb dropped on their heads.

"Harry, don't just stand there," Kim said. She had to clear her throat again.

The big man looked at her as if to say, Well, what else am I supposed to do?

"We need the cannons adjusted." Kim said it as if she knew what she was doing. The second bat was coming in from a different angle, slightly higher. "We need them spun to the right."

Harry kept standing for a moment, watching the bat, then shrugged and looked around. "You heard the lady, lads." He and another man went to the cannon next to Boydie and started to heave on the ropes while Kim sighted along the barrel.

"That'll do it." Highly technical stuff. An exact science. Kim wondered if she was going crazy. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow.

Two more men had already started shifting the next cannon. Kim followed Harry to the one that had just been loaded. Less than a minute and the bat would be upon them. Kim had to make some real decisions. She stood behind the cannon, Harry nearby with a box of matches in hand. It was surreal. Thick, bitter smoke drifted around them one moment, and the next it was clear. Sound came and went. Moans and shouts filled her consciousness, leaving no room for other thoughts, and then she could think all too clearly.

Kim took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. That was a futile exercise.

"What do you think?" Harry shook his head. "Bloody hell, we're being attacked by giant space-bats."

"Space-bats?" Kim said. "You think they're from space?"

"Can you think of a better idea?"

"Well..."

"Beware," Harry bellowed and stepped forward.

6: Open Doors

"Not yet," Kim said, a hand on his arm. She tried to gauge the bat's speed and imagined the flight of the previous cannon balls. The idea of space-bats kept getting in the way and she shook her head to clear it. "Not yet." She used her shoulder to wipe sweat from her forehead. When she looked up again, the bat was skimming over the trees just beyond the far side of the field. "Fire," she said softly.

"Fire in the hole."

Kim covered her ears. She felt the explosion hit her in the chest, smelled the cordite and watched the ball sailing across the field.

No good. No good. She could tell almost immediately. While the others continued to stand and stare, she hurried to the next cannon, checked the aim, then started to push on the back corner. Keeble came to help a moment later.

“[Who are these soldiers? They just don't understand how battle works, do they?]”

Kim ignored him. What else was she supposed to do? "Harry." And Harry ignored her. "Harry."

She stepped back then pulled Keeble away a moment later.

"Harry. Quick"

Harry shook himself, turned, and went to the second cannon.

"Fire the damn thing."

"Fire in the hole."

The thump in the chest. Ringing ears. Kim held her breath. "Come on. Come on." The ball sailed though the sky, a black spot against the blue.

Kim leaned to the left. She held her breath.

She almost thought she heard the impact of the ball hitting the bat. That wasn't possible. But it did hit. She turned to look at Harry for a moment, saw the same look of stunned disbelief that she knew must be on her own face.

"Huh."

They'd hit it.

There was a screech that cut through all other sound and Kim turned quickly back. The huge creature was leaning dangerously to one side, tried to correct, went the other way. After a couple of seconds of struggle a wing clipped the ground. It came down in a rush, plowing a long furrow in the outfield and sending up a storm of dust. Sounds of pain came from the cloud, but if Kim knew anything at all about giant space bats, and she didn't, she didn't think that one was going anywhere in a hurry.

"What now?" Boydie asked after what seemed like an hour.

Smiling, Kim continued to watch the results of their handiwork. "We should go see who we can help." She had almost forgotten about all the injured people.

"What about those cylinders though?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"Those cylinders that were strapped under the bat-thing."

"Well..."

"I don't imagine the bats made them."

Kim wiped sweat from her face and looked at the cloud of dust, as if she could see the creature inside. She chewed her lip for a moment as she thought. "Your point?"

"My point," Harry said, turning to look at her, "is where are the people who did do the making?"

"As far as points go," Kim said, "that's a pretty good one." If she hadn't still been feeling the rush of shooting the thing down she might've had the same thought.

"I thought so."

Bats from outer space were bad enough. Bats from outer space that were nothing more than vehicles for other things were even worse.

Boydie cleared his throat. When Kim turned to look at him she had the distinct impression he'd been a couple of steps further forward a moment ago.

"Perhaps we can ask them," he said.

The dust cloud was starting to disperse and figures were now clearly visible around the still writhing form of the bat.

Kim swore.

They all wore colorful, clanking, hissing armor, like the strange figure who'd been standing in the Major Oak. Kim turned to Meledrin. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I told already. Monsters attacking here have already attacked my people."

"Yes, but..." Kim watched as more and more armored figures became visible. There were more than a dozen of them, moving with a sense of slow implacability.

Keeble said something then crossed quickly to a display of weapons outside a nearby tent. He selected a sword, swung it awkwardly, threw it aside and took an axe instead.

"Keeble says creature weapons fire... Not know word. I believe it like lightning."

"They shoot lightning?"

"As I said, not certain."

"Shit." Kim looked around as if inspiration might strike her. It was better than anything else that might strike her. "Boydie, you might want to get those two cannons loaded."

But Boydie was gone. He was disappearing into the trees at a sprint. There were still a few cannoneers around.

Kim took a deep breath. "Cannoneers, load up."

None of the men moved.

"I just gave an order. Why aren't you moving?" They weren't real soldiers, but they started to move. One of the men who'd been assisting Boydie took charge. There was one cannon already loaded so Kim took Harry by the arm and dragged him over to it.

"Shouldn't we wait to see if they attack us?" Harry asked, match held in his trembling fingers. It was finally getting the better of him, and Kim used that thought to gather courage.

"Do you think these things were prisoners of the bat?"

"No."

"Right."

But at that moment a knight, just a couple of meters away, started to scream. He shuddered and convulsed, caught on the end of a long beam of crackling, distorted air. Smoke streamed from the joints of his armor after he'd fallen to the ground.

"Don't stop," Kim shouted to the men loading the cannons. She swallowed bile and rushed to lower the muzzle of the one that was already loaded. Harry pulled her away after a moment.

"Beware." He dropped his match, quickly regathered and lit it with shaking fingers. "Fire in the hole."

The cannonball crashed into one of the armored creatures and took out another behind.

"We'll get the bastards." Harry said in a shaking voice as he moved to another cannon.

But there were fresh screams coming from the main crowd. People were scattering again.

Kim wanted to help but didn't know what to do. She stayed where she was, dividing her glance between the monsters and the crowd.

"Beware. Fire in the hole."

Kim remembered to cover her ears. And again a minute later. More of the creatures fell, but not nearly enough. The rest continued their slow advance. They were three quarters of the way to the main crowd now.

Men came to load the cannon in front of her.

"This will be our last shot," Harry said.

"What? Why?"

"Today was the last day of the festival. We never bother lugging spare powder around. Hell, the balls are just for show. You're lucky we had any at all."

Kim wasn't feeling lucky. "Damn it."

She looked around for inspiration once more. Keeble was by the weapons' rack, lazily swinging his newly acquired axe in his one good hand. There were more than twenty other 'warriors' standing around as well. Sir Douglas was one of them, blood seeping through the bandage on his arm.

"Doug." The big man didn't answer. "Douglas."

He spun to look at her.

"Get your sword."

"What?" No knightly affectations at all.

"Get your sword, buddy." Kim headed for the nearest rack to find her own weapon, wondering with each step if her legs would support her. She made it all the way and, looking at the choices, decided on a solid, spiked mace. She didn't know if she'd be able to do any damage with a sword even if the creatures didn't have the armor.

"Are you crazy?" Douglas asked.

"The way I see it, standing around isn't an option. Either run or fight."

Douglas glanced at the creatures then back at Kim. He gave a small nod and picked up a sword from near his feet.

"Get some weapons," Kim called to nobody in particular. She cleared her throat to try again, but the men heard. They turned to look at her though none did as she suggested. "So all this is just a game?" She gestured around at the tents and the weapons. "You're just like little boys playing cowboys and Indians in the back yard? Get some God damned weapons and help those people."

Finally, they started to move.

"Beware. Fire in the hole."

Kim almost hit herself in the head with the mace as she covered her ears. "Come on."

One of the armored figures, blue and green with rusting rivets, was heading towards the cannons, plodding along as if it had all the time in the world. Kim headed for it, shoulders hunched as she ran, angling across in front of it as it started to raise its weapon.

"Slow as hell," she muttered to herself.

"What?" Douglas was just behind her, rattling along like a shopping trolley full of empty cans.

"These bastards are slow."

Her arm was already starting to ache from the weight of the mace, but as she got closer she stood up straight and raised the weapon. Her target was swiveling slowly to meet her but wouldn't be quick enough. Its arm bucked slightly as it fired an experimental shot in her direction. It missed, but Kim still felt the hairs on her arm stand on end. He mouth was instantly dry again.

"Electricity," Douglas said before she had the chance.

She thought he sounded very calm for a man dressed as a human lightning rod.

Kim swung her mace with all her might, aiming for a seam in the center of the chest. Her hand shuddered so hard she almost dropped the weapon.

Momentum carried her past as Douglas hit the same area a moment later. Keeble, just a second behind, swung his huge axe at the back of their enemy's knee. Kim spun, trying to ignore everything else. She had enough problems. It felt as if her hand was still shaking. Her arms felt like they were going to drop off. She heaved the mace up and swung. The armored figure was trying to turn to face them, and the mace crashed into the faceplate. She heard a crack, pulled the weapon free and swung again. A moment later, as she tried to get the mace up off the ground once more, Douglas pushed past and rammed his sword into the hole she'd created.

The armor stopped moving.

"Is it dead?" Kim gasped. She went to have a look through the hole as Douglas reefed his sword free. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Whatever was in there wasn't human. Its face was a mess of exposed flesh, thick, dark red blood, and splinters of bone, but there was no way anyone could ever think it was a human face.

Kim almost threw up.

"What is it?" Douglas asked.

She wiped her face. "I have no idea." And it wasn't the time to be worrying about it. Kim tried to put it from her mind and looked around. She knew that if she thought about it she'd be no use to anyone.

Keeble had already moved on and was working at the knee and shoulder of one of the creatures like a madman, swinging his axe as if he could do it all day. Kim hefted her mace with a grunt and went to help.

Warriors swarmed around her, mainly carrying a mixture of swords and maces. One man had a huge war hammer, and there were two others with flails. Suddenly in a real battle, the men fought with none of the melodrama of earlier in the day. They swung their weapons with grim, wide-eyed determination or a half-wild frenzy. They died in a number of realistic ways.

Kim gritted her teeth and tried to ignore what was happening around her. The men probably would've lived if she hadn't insulted them. They would have run into the trees to hide like sensible people. But others would have died — women, children, damsels. She stopped thinking about it and concentrated on the one creature in front of her, with its slow movements and deadly arm. Just one creature. Just one alien. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

As she rushed in, Keeble shifted his attack to the creature's faceplate. He swung with a grunt of effort then quickly moved out of the way so Kim could attack the same place. Her mace broke through and Keeble was already swinging, finishing the creature off.

“[We can't win,]” he said, leaning his axe against his side for a moment while he wiped sweat from his face.

"What?"

He shrugged, picked up his weapon again, and moved quickly towards the edge of the field where the crowd had once been. Kim followed at a slower pace. The little man looked like he had the energy of a four year old, but Kim was struggling. She didn't know if she'd be any help at all.

As she approached the remains of the grandstand, Kim saw the Wicked Witch's granddaughter, Jessie, standing next to the fallen figure of her mother. Her fairy wings were hanging crookedly, and her curly hair was black with soot. She was wailing and sobbing as she stood and looked around for someone to help. Anyone.

Kim studied the crowd as she ran, looking for the witch. There, under the trees. Kim spied the old woman at almost the same moment she spotted her granddaughter. A look of horror crossed her face and she headed out into the open as fast as she could, which was barely above walking speed.

There was an alien not ten meters from the girl. It finished off a man who, face bloody, was struggling to get to his feet. Then it started to turn. Kim headed towards it. She wasn't going to make it though. Her legs were aching. She was almost dragging the mace behind her as she leapt fallen people.

She watched in horror as the creature brought its bulging arm to bear on the girl. It paused, adjusted aim.

The witch was there, hobbling terribly, wheezing from exertion and smoke. She grabbed the girl and crouched, putting herself between her and the weapon.

And the creature paused. It was completely still for one second, two seconds, then it started to move again, swinging its weapon around as it tracked a small man in a monk's habit. Summoning up the last of her energy, Kim swung her mace just as the monk let out a scream of pain and fell to the ground. Tears blurred her vision but she swung again and again, yelling with frustration, with fear and anger.

The creature died where it stood. Kim swung two more times before she took control of herself. Even then, she might have kept going had not a noise impinged on her consciousness. It took her a moment to work out what it was and a moment more to realize it was a good thing. Heaving smoke filled breaths into her lungs, wiping the tears from her face, she turned and examined the sky. Three helicopters, barely audible over the sounds of battle, were dipping down towards the far side of the cricket field.

Before they had even settled, men were streaming out. Soldiers. Red Berets. They assessed the situation quickly and set to work with spectacular results.

Gunshots rang out, adding to the general clamor. Suits of armor started to explode. Kim crouched down, leaning on her mace, and watched. Breathing was still hard, and her chest was tight with tension, but she gave a small smile. Some of the knights gave a ragged cheer. Kim saw Sir Douglas turn to look for a moment. He glanced at Kim, too, and she gave him a nod. But he'd already moved on to blunt his sword on the face of an alien who was still trudging among the bodies.

It was too late for some, and there would be more deaths before the battle was over, but now the professionals were here. The experts.

"Kim?"

Nearby, the old woman was leading Jessie away from her mother's body, gently tugging her hand and saying something. It wasn't a happy ending. It probably wasn't really an ending at all. Just the beginning of something much stranger.

"Kim?"

Kim turned to see Meledrin stepping carefully across the field behind her. The woman's red hair was still immaculate. Her dress was marked with soot and grime, but, with her calm assurance, it hardly seemed to matter.

"What do you want now?"

"Can assist me now? Can assist my people?"

"What?"

Meledrin sighed, the first real sign of any emotion Kim had seen from her. "My people being attacked by these same creatures. Need help."

Kim looked around. British soldiers were advancing across the field. Some were already setting up defensive positions as more bats circled overhead. If the strange creatures really were aliens, then they seemed to be paying a lot of attention to an insignificant place like Sherwood Forest. Unless it was actually an important location. Unless.

Kim couldn't dismiss what Meledrin was saying out of hand. The armored alien had been in the tree long before any of the others had turned up. Meledrin had asked for help before they had turned up. How could Kim question anything without checking the facts when she had just finished killing aliens with a mace?

"Okay. All right."

There was a group of soldiers not far away checking on injured people while they continued to scan their surroundings. One of them was an officer.

"Captain," Kim called.

The man turned to look.

"Can I have a lend of ten men?"

"What? No."

"Are you in charge?"

"No."

"Then who is?"

He looked around. "The major is busy at the moment."

A group of men on the other side of the field were setting up a mortar.

"Kim, we do not have time," Meledrin said.

"How about one guy? He can come back in a couple of minutes and tell you I'm an idiot, or he can come back and get help."

"Help?"

"There may be more aliens in the forest."

"Aliens? Who says their aliens?"

"Have you seen them?"

"Nothing has landed in there." But the captain chewed on his lip for a moment. "Manning, go see what the hell she's talking about."

A private rose quickly to his feet and followed Kim as she, in turn, followed Meledrin.

“[Wait for me, woman.]” Keeble was racing across the field, short legs pumping.

"What's this all about?" Manning asked as they hurried along the path. He was watching the woods, rifle held ready.

Kim shook her head, and then decided to answer. "These two claim to be an elf and a dwarf. They claim they didn't speak English an hour ago." She shrugged. "All I know is they seemed to appear in the Major Oak as if by magic, and one of the armored alien guys was following them. And this was well before the bats arrived."

"And that means?"

Kim shrugged again. "Beats me. But I think we should find out."

Meledrin was leaning against the fence when they started across the clearing towards the Major Oak.

"Us wait for Keeble." Meledrin said when Kim had joined her. "My people know defend selves, Kim, but not warlike. Can get more warriors? Might be needed, still."

"I can't get anyone else but Manning can if he thinks it necessary."

Meledrin glanced at the soldier, dismissed him. "He just a man. You Warder. Have authority. "

"A Warder?" Kim couldn't think straight. It seemed to be contagious. "I'm not a Warder. I don't even know what one is."

"You only person when we arrived. You tending to tree."

"I wasn't tending to anything. I was resting. Tending to be bored, maybe."

"Yes, but..."

Keeble came across the clearing, muttering all the way. He reached the fence and clambered over. Meledrin followed.

"Are you come? Time is..." Meledrin searched for a word, then shrugged. “[Short.]”

Of course it was. People were dying. Strange creatures and even stranger creatures were attacking Sherwood Forest. "Sure it is." Kim climbed over the fence, but only went half of the distance to the tree. She could see inside more clearly now. Keeble had entered a moment ago, struggling through the gap, but was nowhere to be seen.

Manning stood beside her and looked nervous for the first time. "Ah, where is he?"

Meledrin looked over her shoulder. "Keeble to Grovely. Come, we must go low."

"Crawl?"

"Yes. Crawl, I think. Go hands and..." She tapped at her knee.

"Knees."

"Yes." The tall woman made her way into the hollow tree, hitched up her dress, lowered herself to her hands and knees, and crawled out of sight.

Kim tried to see where she was, squinting into the darkness, leaning forward to see if there was anything to see.

"All right," Manning said, "what the hell is going on?"

When the woman stepped into the light once more Kim jumped, and the soldier's rifle snapped around to point at her.

"Are you come?"

Kim shook her head. Manning licked his lips.

"Not danger now, I think. Warriors from sky moved on." The woman's voice was calm, but Kim could see the tension in her jaw and neck. She saw a flash of horror in her eyes, but an instant later that was gone as well. "Come. There is no longer need to crawl. The hole has been enlarged."

And then she was gone. One moment the woman had been there, tall and striking like nobody Kim had ever seen, and the next she was gone. And this time Kim knew she really had vanished, not just stepped into the darkness.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Kim stayed where she was. Away through the trees she could still hear battle. The sun was dipping down behind the trees. Finally, she moved the rest of the way to the tree and peered inside. As expected, there was nothing there to see.

And isn't it strange that I expected to see nothing? "Are you coming?" Kim swallowed and climbed through the gap into the tree.

Manning came behind.

Inside, darkness was almost complete, so she felt around.

At first she felt wood, rough and old and dry, and felt like a fool. Then her hand slipped into nothing where there should've been something. She walked forward slowly.

After less than a meter she stepped out into a clearing that most definitely hadn't been on the far side of the Major Oak.

She was beneath the largest tree she'd ever seen. It shaded acres but huge branches, as big as normal trees, had recently broken off, creating gaps overhead. Two moons were visible. Huge black bats were circling. Fires blazed in numerous areas, and the smell of low-grade explosives permeated the air.

Closer by, a scatter of bodies lay amongst the wreckage of the tree. Most appeared very similar to Meledrin, tall and thin, but there were also some in armor.

Kim quickly went back the way she'd come pushing past Private Manning as he stood and stared. She climbed back over the fence and sank to the ground, leaning back against a rough timber pole and staring out at the forest. She was shaking all over. She couldn't stop.

For a long time she stayed that way, legs stretched out before her, until she heard sounds coming from inside the tree once more.

Manning was there a moment later. He vaulted over the fence, slung his rifle over his back and ran. "Be careful," he shouted over his shoulder, "the aliens are still there."

A couple of minutes later, Kim heard noises behind her and scrambled to her feet, looking for a place to hide. After a second she recognized Meledrin's voice and turned to look.

“[Careful with him, Keeble. His head is not as hard as yours.]”

“[If he lives with you, it'd have to be.]”

Keeble was slowly emerging from inside the tree, dragging an unconscious 'elf' out into the open. Meledrin did what she could to help from inside, but the gap was too narrow to make the task easy.

"Who's this?" Kim asked. She shook her head in disbelief. Here she was, looking at someone in serious trouble, and she was worried about his name.

"This is Palsamon." Meledrin waved her fingers around.

The stranger had an ugly gash across his leg that was bleeding heavily, and his arm was broken. Burns marked his chest and neck. A lump the size of an egg lifted the waves of his silvery hair near his left ear. Biting her lip, Kim tried to think. She quickly removed her jumper. It was a woolen affair that would be no good as a bandage. Then she removed her T-shirt and tied it tightly around the man's injured leg.

“[What do you think you're doing? That's the most disgusting display of...]”

"What?" Kim looked up to see both Keeble and Meledrin staring at her with expressions of shock stamped on their faces.

"What you do?" Meledrin gestured. "It is not proper."

"What?" Kim was wearing jeans and a bra. It wasn't as if she'd stripped naked. And it wasn't as if she'd done it for fun. Reminded of her T-shirt, she took a moment to make sure it was doing its new job successfully. It seemed to be, so she returned her attention to the elf and dwarf. "What?"

Meledrin turned away in disgust and Keeble shook his head.

“[Have you no sense of decency?]” he asked.

Not sure what he'd asked, Kim shrugged, and that just seemed to upset the little man more. She looked back to Palsamon and tried to arrange his own burned shirt into some type of sling for his arm.

As she was finishing, a poor attempt and probably not much help at all, Kim heard a noise. She turned to see Manning leading a dozen soldiers into the clearing.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, fine, but he isn't."

A sergeant climbed the fence and looked at Palsamon. "We have medics here. See if you can get him to Captain Thorpe back at the fair."

"Okay."

The soldiers got Palsamon over the fence then made their way into the tree one at a time. Kim watched them disappear and still couldn't believe it. To distract herself she grabbed Palsamon's legs. "Come on."

But Keeble was holding out her jumper with the obvious intention that she put it on. And it probably wasn't a bad idea. Sighing, she put down her burden, put on the jumper, and got ready again.

It seemed to take forever to return to the cricket field, but when they arrived, the battle was still going at full tilt. More bats had landed and disgorged aliens. The SAS were outnumbered, but holding their own. Kim could see more helicopters in the distance. Even if the battle ended soon, there were dozens of injured people and soldiers would probably get first priority.

"They could be going for a while," Kim said, glancing at Palsamon. He was pale and breathing shallowly. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"Hospital?" Meledrin asked.

"Yes. A place of healing." She rubbed at her aching arms.

"Is near?"

"Christ, I don't know."

"Where must we go?"

Mansfield is probably closest, Kim thought. She said as much.

"Where?"

"Come on." She grabbed Palsamon's legs again and headed for the car park. Doing something would help. It would stop her from thinking.

7: Rivers

Kim checked with the doctor again then assured Meledrin that Palsamon was going to be all right. When they'd arrived the previous evening it hadn't been obvious.

The elf didn't show any signs of caring. "Thank you." She gave a slight nod. "I will make my way outside to check that Keeble has remained as we requested. I will be surprised if he has not left in search of something of interest."

Kim pursed her lips and gave a nod as well. "Okay. But if you've finished here then I guess I have as well." The hospital had her mobile number and there wasn't a lot more she could do. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"Palsamon must remain at this location for some days yet. Unfortunately, if I am to summon help for the remainder of my people, we must depart soon."

"Come on then." She couldn't believe the elf. Kim was more worried than Meledrin, apparently. She couldn't stand the thought of leaving. She felt responsible now. "So how long have you known him?"

"I have known Palsamon since my tenth summer. He was assigned to work in the same glade as I when I first began my training. He assisted with the movement of some heavy branches when I was unable to complete the task on my own."

Barely a flicker of emotion.

"Right."

Out in the car park Kim glanced up at the sky. The war continued. Both planes and bats were visible, but trying to work out what was going on was like trying to watch a game of football from two suburbs away. The TV hadn't been a whole lot more enlightening.

Keeble wasn't by the door. He was down in the car park, trying to talk to a doctor but not having much luck. The dwarf was getting frustrated and the doctor was getting angry.

“[How does it work?]” Keeble said.

"If you don't get away from my car now I'll call the police."

"He doesn't speak English," Kim said as she grabbed the dwarf's arm and pulled him away.

The doctor shook his head, muttered under his breath and got into his car.

“[Keeble, I requested that you remain in the vicinity of the door,]” Meledrin said.

“[I've never met a dwarf like you,]” he replied, watching as the doctor drove away. “[Even Ari had more interest in the world than you, and she was just a regular dwife.]” He scuffed at the ground. “[How am I to learn anything if I don't go and look?]”

Kim had her keys and was ready to go, but it looked like the two of them were going to talk all day.

“[You may depart at any time, of course.]”

“[I know I can.]”

“[You are not leaving?]” Meledrin raised a long, slim eyebrow.

“[No. I want to find out about their flying machines. Has Kim said anything to you about the flying machines?]”

Kim didn't know what the dwarf was saying, but he was very excited about it.

“[I am unaware. I have not inquired.]” Meledrin's response seemed to stamp all over Keeble's excitement and took him back to frustration.

"Let's get going," Kim said, heading for her own car.

“[Come, Keeble, we are departing,]” Meledrin said.

“[Where are we going?]”

“[To speak with the leaders of this world and gain assistance for our battle.]”

Keeble climbed in the front seat before Meledrin had the chance. He looked very excited by the prospect of riding in a car again, but Kim couldn't even get it started. The engine whined and spluttered and made all sorts of strange sounds, all to little effect.

"Damn it." She thumped the steering wheel. "Damn it."

His excitement stomped on again, Keeble looked as if someone had stolen his brand new bike. His shoulders slumped and he furiously wound the gears on his hand. He stared at the steering wheel as if it was the culprit.

Kim sighed. There were bigger problems in the world at the moment, but this was one more little thing she really didn't need.

"Wait here." Slamming the door behind her, she went back inside and made her way to reception. "I need to get to London in a hurry," she told the harried woman behind the counter.

"Try the trains," she said.

"The trains are running? Trust you Brits to just get on with things."

"I think they only started up again a couple of hours ago."

"So, where's the station?"

Kim got directions and went back to the car. Keeble was lying on the ground looking at the engine. Meledrin was looking on disapprovingly.

"Come on. They've got the trains running again. It's a few miles walk."

“[What's happening?]” Keeble asked.

Meledrin started to follow Kim back towards the gates. “[Apparently there are some things called trains and, according to Kim, they are running once more.]”

Kim watched Meledrin and Keeble as they walked. The elf didn't seem to notice anything at all, walking along as if she were strolling along a street she'd known all her life. The dwarf, on the other hand, tried to see everything at once. He squinted up at the street lights though they weren't even on, then raced over to try to talk to a man with a lawn mower. He examined cars as they went past and poked at a public phone with his mechanical hand. He ran ahead then fell behind, talking the whole while, shooting questions at Meledrin that the elf ignored more often than not.

After a mile, the road they were on ended at a T-intersection.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" A tall, gangly man said, shading his eyes to watch the planes and bats passing high overhead, cutting through the columns of smoke that seemed to be everywhere, like weeds in an overgrown garden. "The greatest event in human history, and this is the most we get to see. They don't even show much on the news. We should be thankful, I suppose."

Turn right, then a short walk to an overpass and down some stairs to the station.

“[I'm hungry,]” Keeble said, as Kim made her way to the ticket window.

"Keeble has questioned me about food. I am feeling hungry myself."

"We can get some in a minute. It'll only be chips or something from a vending machine, though." She motioned through onto the platform. But there was already a train waiting.

Kim got the tickets, almost emptying her account, and hurried her companions onto the train.

“[Where are we?]” Keeble asked as he sat down in a window seat.

“[This is known as a train station,]” Meledrin replied. "And that is a train.]”

“[What's it do?]”

“[It is a vehicle of some description. Apparently it locomotes on metal rails.]”

“[A train? I know what a train is.]” He looked around. “[They must clean the soot off every day.]”

A few minutes later he was bored again, fidgeting in his seat. Kim just wanted to sleep, but the dwarf was ready to go for another week. “[What happened to our food?]”

"Keeble has once more inquired about food."

"We don't have time. I might have some lollies in my pack."

“[I'm near starving.]” The dwarf watched Kim as she began a search. “[Gotta have some food. And ale. Whistler, do I need some ale. You two couldn't organize an explosion in a fireworks factory.]”

The doors of the train slid shut and Keeble was distracted, which was good because the only edible thing Kim could find was half a Mars Bar with fluff coating the end.

“[Hear that?]” he said. “[Hydraulics. That's what that was.]” He leaned over to get a better look at the door. “[Know what hydraulics are? No, course you don't.]” And he was off, telling Meledrin something she obviously had absolutely no interest in. The dwarf kept going anyway, through the next station and beyond.

He finally stopped, falling silent for about a minute. He swung his legs until Kim thought she'd go crazy from the squeaking of the chair.

“[Where are we going?]” Keeble asked when the silence stretched on.

“[A city called London.]”

“[What's there?]”

“[The leaders of this nation.]”

Apparently that was all the inactivity Keeble could stand. He fidgeted and squirmed for a few seconds more then got to his feet and pushed out into the aisle.

"Where are you going?" Kim asked him.

Meledrin asked something as well, probably the same thing.

“[Walking.]”

“[Where?]”

“[I don't know. Do you really think I can get lost?]”

“[Perhaps.]” The elf turned to Kim. "He wishes to go for a walk."

Kim didn't bother trying to stop him. Keeble didn't seem like the kind of guy who would change his mind just because someone asked nicely. Instead she pushed the train ticket into his hand.

"Take this." She showed her own ticket then slipped it back into her pocket. "Keep it with you. Okay. Tell him, Mel."

The elf said something as Keeble started to walk away. He waved over his shoulder as he went.

* * *

Kim flopped down into a seat.  "I shouldn't have let him go," she said, not taking her eyes from the scenery flashing by outside.

Meledrin arranged herself opposite. "He did not become lost, Kim. He deliberately left us, I am sure."

"Why? He's got no idea where he is or where he should be. He can't speak the language. He's got no idea about anything."

"That may be so, but I am unsurprised by his sudden departure."

"You're not?"

"No, Kim. For two reasons. Firstly, he is a dwarf."

That was a bit confusing. "Right."

"He is a dwarf," Meledrin repeated, "I am an elf. Our peoples have cohabitated on Sherindel for millennia, virtually next door in worldly terms, and yet we all but never speak. We avoid each other as much as possible. Elves are a high culture, and the little men are arrogant and elitist, despite being the basest of men. I am surprised he stayed as long as he did."

Kim thought that maybe Meledrin was right, but if the woman was indicative of her own 'high' culture, then the elves were no better. "I don't believe this story about elves and dwarves," she muttered. "What's the second reason then?"

"Keeble is not in complete control of his faculties."

"He isn't?" He had seemed a bit distracted at times, but it was a bit hard to tell in different languages.

"No. It is known that without community and organization dwarves quickly become ill and die."

"They die of loneliness?"

"That is correct. And Keeble failed some type of test set by his superiors and was banished. He spent quite some time wondering alone in the forest. I personally saw evidence of his having commenced tasks that he left incomplete. For a dwarf that indicates a grave sickness."

"You're kidding?"

"I do not kid."

"Bloody hell." Kim shook her head. Elves and dwarves. It was ridiculous.

But back at the hospital she'd watched the reports of the alien attacks. She hadn't dreamed them. So, if there could be aliens attacking earth on the backs of giant bats, then why couldn't elves and dwarves cross from another world through the 'magic faraway tree'?

And, sitting next to an 'elf', she took a deep breath.

"The earth is being attacked by aliens," she said softly. Like everyone else, she was going about her business as if the world hadn't recently gone though the greatest moment in recorded history. Admittedly, it was unusual business, but she was sitting on a train chatting amiably as if she would wake up tomorrow, or next week, and everything would be the same as it had always been.

"What's your world like, Meledrin?"

"Pardon."

"Your world, what's it like?"

"Very much like this one. There are trees and rocks," she waved her hands towards the window, "mountains and streams."

"Obviously," Kim said. "It has to be a lot like Earth or you'd be dead. Carbon based life, oxygen, photosynthesis, minerals, gases. You could probably drop me somewhere on Sherindel, and I wouldn't be able to tell for sure I wasn't on Earth."

Meledrin nodded. "I could inform you that there are mountains that touch white tipped fingers to the sky, lakes that so perfectly mirror the sky that you can shoot birds just by watching the reflections. There are trees that sing the breeze in perfect choruses and fields of crowded sun worshipping flowers in a thousand colors. I could tell you these things, Kim, but the things of simple beauty in this carriage would have more meaning."

"The things of beauty in this carriage?" Kim looked around, not sure what things the elf was talking about.

"You do see not the beauty here?" Meledrin asked, with one perfect eyebrow raised. "How terrible your life must be."

"Terrible?" Kim looked around again in the flickering fluorescent light. "Point this beauty out for me then."

Meledrin looked around the carriage. "The face of the child." She gestured towards a little girl sitting on the other side of the aisle a few rows back. "Her smile, the concentration so apparent in her eyes, the line of her jaw, the way her hair outlines the delicate curve of her ear." Meledrin looked around again.

"And the old lady over there. Her shawl. The colors are perfect -- slashes and swirls against the plain, straight lines of the seat. That young couple over there. Their clothes could not be more different, their features could not be more different, but look at the expressions they wear. That is beauty, Kim: a smile, a look, a simple, unexpected pleasure."

Kim knew what the elf was saying but couldn't truly see it. When she turned to Meledrin to say so, she wondered if the elf really could see it. Meledrin knew that beauty was there, perhaps, but she looked with the eyes of an art critic, not an art lover or an artist. She was so emotionless that she could not possibly see it any other way.

Kim closed her eyes. She wondered where Keeble was. The dwarf didn't like Meledrin, and she was starting to agree with him. Meledrin had seen her people slaughtered and crossed between worlds. She left a man, a good friend at the very least, in critical condition, in the company of strangers, and was separated from another companion. She had generally been thrown in over her head and hadn't shown one visible human emotion, or even an elfish one for that matter. She'd kept a couple of emotions hidden, but that was not the same.

The trees continued to stream past the window. Farmhouses were stars in the darkness of space. Towns were galaxies.

"Why do you think they're here, Mel?"

"Who?"

Kim sighed. "Who do you think?"

"I do not know. I do not believe that 'why' is important. It does not change what is."

"'Why?' is very important. They travelled a gazillion or so kilometers to attack Earth. All the space between here and there means they have a very good reason for doing it." She remembered the alien that had spared the witch and her granddaughter at Sherwood Forest. It had seen them, aimed, then changed its mind. "We need to talk to them, Mel," she said. "We need to find out what the hell is going on, because they aren't monsters. I know they aren't."

"Perhaps not, but I still do not see how that changes what is."

"Of course you don't. But maybe we can sort all this out peacefully. Maybe we don't have to kill them."

"Why should we not kill them? They come and attack our worlds, and you wish to make friends with them?"

"Of course I do. I left the army, remember?"

"People are dying. People are dead. I do not feel the need to make friends with the killers."

"Well, then maybe everyone will end up dead."

"No. You humans on Earth will survive."

Kim turned to look at the Meledrin, to see if she was at all bitter. But as usual, the elf showed nothing. "Just because the aliens aren't having any success at the moment, doesn't mean they won't in the future."

"They are obviously no match for your flying warriors. Their bombs are pitiful, they damage hardly anything, and the damage is quickly controlled."

Kim didn't agree with the elf's definition of 'hardly anything', but she let that slide. "You're talking about something you know absolutely nothing about. All the aliens need to do is find one half-decent sized rock to throw at us."

"A rock? You are worried that they might start throwing stones?"

"A big rock, the size of a office block, thrown from space."

It was obvious Meledrin still didn't understand but Kim didn't care. She turned to look out the window. The English countryside continued to flash by. London couldn't arrive soon enough.

* * *

"Is the other side of the river really so important that all these bridges are truly required?" Meledrin asked.

Such questions convinced Kim that Meledrin was for real. No human, even acting as some weird alien, would ever think of asking the point of television soap operas. They may ask what they were, but never why. They'd never ask about the spiritual importance of pop music, especially English pop music, with a straight face. And they'd never ask if the other side of the river was really that important.

"Yes, it's important," Kim replied. "For humans, the other side of the river is about the most important thing there is." She wasn't sure if the elf was aware of symbolism or metaphor, but she wasn't about to explain them in the back of a cab travelling to Parliament House.

"Where is this place to which we go?"

"Not far. So what, exactly, do we do when we get there?" Kim asked, leaning across to close Meledrin's window against the heavy rain.

"What is it that you mean? We go and tell them what is happening on my world, of course."

"They already know what's happening, Mel. Their army is fighting a war on Sherindel."

"There must be understanding between our peoples. We must forge an alliance against these attackers."

"Well, we won't get close enough to anyone to say a damn thing. We won't even get in the door."

Meledrin began to say something, but Kim continued, cutting her off.

"I wasn't guarding the tree. I was just standing there. Nobody was guarding the tree."

Meledrin looked out the window, lost in thought. "Are the Lords meeting today?"

Kim leaned forward and tapped on the partition that divided them from the driver.

The man opened a flap. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Is parliament sitting today?" She probably should have checked that earlier.

"I don't think so, Ma'am."

"Thank you."

"That's fine. Probably be another five minutes."

"Do they have offices in there?"

"Some do, Ma'am, but I don't know if they'll be there."

"Why's that?"

"Big target like that?"

"Obviously. Thanks."

The flap thudded closed again.

"They're not meeting."

"Yes, I heard."

"Good."

"Then we will just go and see what happens. Some may be there in any case; surely they have duties they must attend to."

"Fine. There are worse ways to waste a day, I suppose." Though she'd already visited all the famous London tourist attractions.

Kim turned away. She was glad Meledrin didn't speak for the rest of the journey.

8: Absent Lords

Meledrin wondered how the Lords could be so negligent to their duties. There was a war, how could they not be meeting? She listened as Kim got the information, again, out of a recalcitrant guard at the main gate.

"So, are there any Lords in there?" Kim asked. "Are they Lording, or whatever it is that they do?"

"Maybe, Miss."

"What about MP's?"

The man shrugged.

Meledrin could not remain silent. The guard could not be trusted, saveigni that he was. "Would we be allowed to go and converse with one of them?"

"Sorry, Ma'am. State of emergency and all. No unauthorized people in or out."

Kim smiled at the man as if she had found the solution to their dilemma. "Well, if you say we're allowed, surely we'd be authorized."

"Sorry."

"We have information about the aliens."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Meledrin wished to help but did not interrupt.

"Not like this. We know what's happening in Nottinghamshire."

"Well, try going to your local member."

"From my accent, would you think my local member might be somewhere nearby?"

"Sorry, Miss."

"Okay. Just checking."

Meledrin finally opened her mouth to speak but Kim took her by the arm and drew her away before she had the opportunity.

Meledrin whispered a Lesser Changing.

Kim led the way back towards the river, and Meledrin followed as quickly as dignity would allow. Vehicles moved along the streets, throwing out arcs of spray, but the roads seemed to be carrying far less than their full capacity. Pedestrians either hurried by with their heads down or stared up at the sky. There were small stalls near the end of a long, stone bridge, but they were closed.

Kim soon dashed across the street and took shelter under the arched concrete portico opposite. She sat at a small table and stared at a huge, motionless wheel with gondolas suspended from it. When a servant came, she ordered a drink, not speaking until she had taken her first sip several minutes later.

"What do you want to try now?"

Was that not obvious? "We find these Lords of yours and make them help."

"They aren't my Lords."

"What is it that you mean?"

"I'm not English. I'm Australian, mainly. I don't have any right to ask anything of a British politician. And neither do you."

Meledrin suppressed a sigh. "Then let us go and ask for assistance from one of your politicians."

"Huh. That'd be like asking a school yard bully to fight Asian crime gangs."

"Pardon?" Meledrin said. Even if she understood every word of English, she doubted she would always understand.

"If we got to talk to an Australian politician, they'd talk big and say 'yes, of course we'll do something'. But as soon as you turn your back they'll go back to doing what they do best."

"Then who is likely to listen?"

"Americans." Then she shook her head, as if arguing with herself. "Maybe."

"And why will they listen when others will not?"

"Three reasons. One, they're the most powerful nation on Earth and didn't get there by sitting on their hands. Two, like everyone they like to be popular and the good thing about this war is that everyone on Earth will be on their side, for once. And three, according to the reports, they're copping more from the aliens than anyone else."

"Then let us go to America." Meledrin rose to her feet and waited for Kim to lead the way.

Kim stood and made her way to the edge of the street. "We can't go to America —"

"Why not?"

She sighed. "You don't have a passport. You don't have anything. You don't exist. But if you hadn't interrupted me, I would have said, we can't go to America, but we don't have to."

"I apologize for interrupting."

"That's okay. But now we have to find a cab."

"To go to which location?"

"The American Embassy. But just remember, like I said before, they may not listen."

"Why would they not listen? We have important information."

Kim gave a grunt of laughter. "The world is being attacked by aliens. I know it might be a bit hard to tell, standing here, chatting as we are, but pilots are flying around above us risking their lives, possibly, and shooting big, black space-bats." Kim shook her head and muttered, "Ed Wood's about to rush onto the set and yell 'cut'."

"Who is this Ed Wood? Is he an American Lord?" And what is he wishing to cut?

"The point is, the people in charge don't have time to listen to every crackpot that comes knocking on their door with conspiracy theories and tales of magical gateways."

"But it is the truth."

"The truth doesn't always matter, unfortunately."

"Many people are dying. Surely they want every piece of information that might help."

Kim laughed again. "You obviously don't know humans all that well. Sometimes not knowing is preferable. The existence of aliens has already upset a large proportion of the world, but at the moment it's still just a war. One that we seem to be winning. Mention magical gateways and you'll open up a whole new can of extremely smelly worms." Kim paused, chewed on her lip. "You'd think the aliens would learn, wouldn't you?"

"Your meaning?"

"Well, hundreds of thousands of people, maybe millions, have died, and more are dying every hour but, in the grand scheme of things, it isn't really that many at all. They keep sending the bats and we keep shooting them, apparently without a whole heap of trouble. Since the first few surprise hits, firebombs have hit a couple of places, but that's about it. There's more chance of being injured when you're hit on the head by a bullet-riddled corpse."

"Perhaps they are slow to learn."

"Perhaps they're stubborn. Perhaps they have so many bats they can afford to just keep sending them."

"I do not understand." Meledrin paused as a strange look passed across Kim's face. "What is the matter?"

It was a moment before the woman replied. "Well, this planet of yours, Sherindel, is nowhere near ours. We know that. So what are the odds that these aliens coincidentally attacked our two worlds at the same time?"

"I do not understand what it is that you are saying, Kim."

"The aliens know that Earth and Sherindel are linked in some way. That suggests they know more about us than we think. It also proves that this isn't just some random attack by evil alien hordes."

"I do not think that you can make judgements like that with the limited information available."

"Look, something's going on, and we have to tell someone. And soon."

"I was under the impression that is what we have been attempting to do."

"Yes, I know. Come on, we need a cab."

They waited by the side of the road for several minutes before Kim waved at a passing vehicle. It pulled over and Kim climbed into the back. Meledrin followed a moment later muttering the words of Action. Kim's words had finally sunk in. An enemy without end. But according to the woman that piece of news paled into insignificance against the realization that the aliens knew about the gateway in the Ohoga tree.

She rolled down the glass window. The rain was slackening. It was enough to be an annoyance, but the cool breeze helped. She worried about her people. She worried about Palsamon.

She took a deep breath, belatedly hoping that Kim wouldn't notice. "What is love, Kim?" she asked, schooling her face to calmness and watching row after row of buildings file past. She had heard humans everywhere talk of love but was not sure she understood.

"Love? It's... Well, depends on the type of love, and who's defining it."

"You are defining it. You are defining all types."

"Well, love, I suppose, is intense positive feelings one living creature has for another living creature."

"That is it?"

"Yes. Basically."

"Intense positive feelings?" Meledrin shook her head. It had to be more than that. The concept seemed to dominate the lives of humans.

"Yes. I mean, that's the general definition." Kim sighed. "Look, Mel, tell me what brought this question on and I might be able to do a better job of explaining."

She wished Kim would stop calling her 'Mel'. It was not dignified. "It does not matter. I was merely wondering." She did not know, and Kim obviously could not explain. She gave it no more thought.

Meledrin climbed out of the cab when it eventually pulled over to the side of the street. Lesser Changing.

"So, where are we going?" Kim asked the vehicle's driver as she handed over paper money.

"Down there."

"Where the crowd is?"

Meledrin turned to look as well. A large group of people were gathered in front of a building. Many of them appeared to be men. That was another thing she could not understand.

"That's it, Miss."

The driver smiled and chatted with Kim as if they were equals. He showed no deference at all. It was all Meledrin could do to hold her tongue. Instead, she tilted her head back so the rain could massage her face. They didn't really have rain on Sherindel. Not like here. There, it was never much more than a mist. The difference pleased Meledrin, but she was unsure how long that feeling would last.

"Come on."

Meledrin allowed herself to be drawn to a small dry area in the doorway of a building.

"You'll catch a chill standing there like that, you idiot."

"A what?"

"A chill. A cold? You know running nose, sneezing, that kind of thing."

"We do not have such things on Sherindel."

"Well, this is England, Mel. I reckon you'll find out what a cold is."

Meledrin shrugged and sighed. Shrugging was hardly dignified either, but humans used the action often, and it did convey quite a lot. "Now, what action do we take?" Meledrin leaned back against the cold bricks of the wall while Kim looked about. The young human seemed at a loss as to what to do. "Are we not going to see the Lords?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what? The operator of the vehicle indicated that we must go in this direction." She pointed down the street. The crowd was quite large.

"All right, let's go then."

Meledrin watched as Kim dashed from the protection of the doorway and ran down the footpath as if all the dwarves in the world were after her. Meledrin waved Lesser Action and followed at her usual pace. Her long strides kept her close. The rain was an inconvenience, perhaps, but not worth losing one's dignity over. Though by the time she caught the young woman, standing in another doorway, Meledrin was starting to wonder. Her dress was clinging to her body, revealing her breasts almost as if she were naked. Indeed, even as she joined her companion she noticed a man ogling her from a window nearby. She stared at him until he looked away.

Kim continued to dash from scant cover to scant cover while Meledrin followed not far behind and worried about what she might say to the Lords of the United States. She had never met any humans before Kim, and she was discovering that reading about them could not prepare her for what she needed to do. They were so unpredictable. They did not seem to have any guiding tenets as a race, with each one viewing situations from a totally individual perspective. So, with no real grasp of what drove humans, she had no point from which to start. Did she appeal to their greed or their compassion? The riches of the world they would have access to, or the riches of elfish culture? She decided that, in either case, she would not mention the dwarves. The little men would be of no attraction to anyone, either in the way they lived their lives or the way they destroyed the land.

Meledrin followed Kim into the crowd of people. Lesser Changing. Many of them had little boxes held up to their eyes or were talking into strange objects. Kim pushed her way through and Meledrin followed, slipping through the crowd. She tried, without much success, to avoid brushing against the men. When the way became too congested, even for Kim's outrageous shoving, they were forced almost to a standstill.

The building they were trying to reach, the center of all the attention, faced out over a small park. A huge sculpture of an eagle soared five floors above the door. The stone facade, covered in a metal grillwork, gave the impression of impregnable strength without clashing with the surrounding architecture.

Meledrin was impressed. Other buildings in London were much the same — if not in design, then in size and spirit — but she hadn't really stopped to look. Now, she slipped laterally through the crowd, crossing to one of the stone columns that lined the front of the building. She hesitantly touched the cool surface. Kim followed close behind, apologizing as she went, but being ignored for the most part.

"I have never known that stone could be so alive," Meledrin said, pushing wet hair away from her face. "It has always been mere stone in the past."

"I thought dwarves were supposed to be the best stone masons anywhere," Kim said.

"You learned this in your tales of 'fantasy'."

"Well, yeah." She sounded slightly embarrassed.

"No, you are quite correct. They are supposed to be stone masons without equal." Meledrin broke away from the stone and moved closer to their destination. She moved to another column, touching at its surface. The rain was lessening, the cloud cover breaking up. Such a strange world where conditions can change so quickly.

"'Supposed to be the best masons?'"

"Well, I have never witnessed any of their work."

"So, let me get this right. You hate dwarves? Can't stand them? And yet you have never even seen the one thing that defines them as a race?"

"Masonry does not define dwarves." Meledrin sighed and continued to examine the column, running her fingers along the perfect ribs, feeling at the joints. "Their love of work does. Their need to be doing. Their superior physical skills come from that, not the other way around."

"Okay, but you have never seen the dwarfish homelands, or whatever they call it?"

"No, I have not."

"How many dwarves have you met in your entire life?"

Meledrin thought for a moment. "Only Keeble."

"Only Keeble?"

Meledrin stopped and turned to face Kim. "I see where you are leading with this, Kim. You are going to ask, 'How can I judge a race of people by just one of their number?' That is what you are going to ask, is it not?" She smiled. Kim was young and naïve and would not understand, even when it was explained to her.

"Yes, that's my question."

"Well, I do not judge them. I let people that I trust judge them. My ancestors. My friends." She could name her mothers all the way back to the turn of the millennium, and none of them liked dwarves.

"And how many dwarves have your friends seen? And your ancestors? How long since a group of elves visited the dwarves, or the other way around."

"It has been many years. The dwarves always end up making trouble and leaving. They are unrefined, loud, and have not a thought towards custom."

They finally reached a low wooden barricade with a serious looking saveigni in a green uniform on the other side. A whole line of them, stiff and staring, guarded the barricade.

"You mean they have no thought for your customs. Have you considered that they have customs of their own, dating back as long as yours, that say you should show your hosts that you're having a good time?"

Meledrin turned away from her inspection of the guards. "What is it that you mean?" She knew Kim was going to come up with a ridiculous example, but it was only polite to ask.

"Well burping, for instance."

"I beg your pardon. I do not know the word."

"Belching. Expelling air from your stomach out through your mouth."

"Ah, yes. I understand."

"Well, in my culture belching is considered, well, not rude but uncouth."

"As it is in mine." Meledrin thought of pointing out that elves and humans had much in common, but Kim was speaking again.

"Right, but there's at least one culture on Earth where belching after a meal is thought to show your enjoyment of the meal."

"I do not believe you." Meledrin said with a sniff. Belching a display of contentment!

Kim turned to the nearest guard. "I'm not lying, am I?"

For long moments the man did not reply. When he did, his eyes continued to rove, scanning the crowd. "Ma'am, I'm pretty sure the Chinese have a custom like that."

Meledrin sniffed again. Of course the humans would stick together.

"See," Kim said. "But if a Chinese person went to someone's house in my land, they might offend when they were trying to please. All through a misunderstanding."

"Well these misunderstandings have been going on for longer than anyone can remember."

"And they'll continue to, as long as nobody hangs around long enough to talk."

Meledrin shook her head. "It is not that easy, Kim."

"I'm sure it isn't."

Meledrin shook her head and sighed. Kim would never understand. She turned to the guard. "Please allow us through, saveigni."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, unless you're a citizen of the United States, you can't pass."

"Well, as a matter of fact..." Kim removed her pack and searched through one of the pockets. After a moment she pulled free a little book and held it out to be examined.

The saveigni glanced at it. "That's an Australian passport, Miss."

"What? Oh, shit. Wrong one." Kim searched again.

The guard raised an eyebrow. "You have two passports?"

"It's a long story. It involves elopement, unimpressed grandparents, and several official enquiries."

"Right." He turned his attention back to the crowd while Kim continued to go through her pack.

"Anyway," Kim continued, "surely we aren't in the U.S. until we've passed through the doors. There's still a little bit of England behind you there. Have you gotten permission to keep English citizens off English soil?"

Meledrin sighed. Kim seemed to enjoy annoying people.

"I couldn't say for sure, Miss. Not sure if we're allowed to stop Australians, either, come to think of it." He said it with what appeared to be a friendly smile, as if he was enjoying himself as well. "Why don't you go and ask the Prime Minister?"

"Tried to ask the British Prime Minister. Didn't work. "

"Well then, maybe your own Prime Minister?"

"I could. Ah-huh." She pulled a little book, similar to the first, triumphantly from the pack. She smiled. "But today, I'm American."

The saveigni took the book and opened it up. "Well, Miss McLean, you are free to enter, but unless your friend here also has an American passport, she'll have to wait out here."

Meledrin had had enough — being forced to stand in the rain and talk to a man.

"Kim and I have information regarding the alien attacks," she said. "Kim suggested that the United States might be the nation that could best make use of the information."

"It's all right, Mel. I'll go in and get someone."

Meledrin ignored her. "Immediately inform your lord that we seek an audience."

"My lord?" the saveigni said.

"Yes, go and get her now."

Kim put a hand on Meledrin's shoulder and pulled her back slightly. "Please excuse Meledrin. She's not from around here. She isn't aware of how things work."

"Not from around here? What planet is she from, exactly?"

"My world is called Sherindel," Meledrin said. She realized too late that it might have been a rhetorical and sarcastic question all in one.

The man was no longer enjoying himself. "Look, we've had all sorts of crackpots turning up here over the last few days. None of them got in, and you aren't going to get in either." He looked at Kim. "I'm starting to have my doubts about you as well."

Meledrin opened her mouth to speak, but Kim got in first.

"Look, it's all under control. Meledrin will stay out here while I go in and tell your boss about the magical gate in Nottinghamshire." Kim turned to look at the elf. "It may take a while, though. I'll have to start at the bottom and work my way up to someone who knows something. All right?"

"There's a magical gateway in Nottinghamshire?"

When the savegini said the words, Meledrin suddenly realized how ridiculous they sounded. The look on Kim's face suggested that she was thinking the same thing.

But the woman continued anyway. "Actually, your superiors might already know about it. The English army knew a couple of days ago."

"A gateway?" The soldier looked at his nearest companion. When he turned back, it was clear that the conversation had almost reached its conclusion. Before he could say anything, though, a tall, aging man stepped into view from the Embassy.

The crowd waiting outside the barrier launched into a cacophony of sound. They all seemed to shout a dozen questions at the newcomer, but he ignored them all and moved quickly to where Meledrin and Kim waited.

Meledrin waved a Beginning.

The man was not dressed in a uniform, but his bearing was much the same as that of the guards. Straight-backed and proud. "Ladies, my name is Mathew Gainis. If you'll just come with me, please." Instead of leading them back inside, he led them through the crowd and to the street. As they arrived, a large black car with dark windows met them. "Nottinghamshire, you say? Helicopter will be quicker."

"You know something about this gate, don't you?" Kim asked as she ducked into the car.

Meledrin glared at the stranger as he put his hand on her waist to usher her inside as well. She did not move.

"No. Not this gate." The man saw Meledrin's expression and removed his hand with a slight bow of apology. "The English authorities have not been kind enough to let us know though we have had our suspicions that something was going on."

"There's another? Were you kind enough to let the English government know about your one?" Kim smiled as if something was extremely funny.

The man did not reply, merely hurrying around the far side of the car and climbing into the front seat.

The car took them to a helicopter and that machine took them back to Sherwood Forest. It was much quicker than the train journey had been, but the ensuing conversation between the American and the local soldiers seemed to last forever. Eventually Mr. Gainis passed through the tree to Sherindel. When he returned, he immediately headed for the helicopter.

"You, Meledrin, come from Sherindel?" Mr. Gainis asked when they were back in the air a couple of minutes later.

Meledrin wondered how many times she would be asked, and by a man at that. She had answered the same question several times already. If it was taking this long for this man to be satisfied, she could not imagine the type of questions a Warder or a Lord would ask and how long the process would take. She sighed. At least it allowed her to concentrate on something other than the motion of the helicopter and the alarming distance to the ground.

"You haven't informed the Brits of your presence here?"

"They would not speak with us, though the soldiers spoke with me when I arrived. Have you found my companion?"

"Yes, Palsamon was in the hospital where you left him. He's on his way to London right now. He'll be taken to a private hospital." The man checked some papers in a folder on the seat beside him. It had not been there when they exited the helicopter previously. "Kim, how did you get involved in this. A pilot with the Australian army?"

"Not for a long time, years, as I am sure your records show."

He flipped through some pages. "Usual, everyday stuff since. A few times to America?"

"My father's family still lives there. They don't like my mother much, but they're willing to provide me with free accommodation."

"And your father was in the diplomatic corps?"

Kim laughed. "Something like that, yes."

As the conversation continued, Meledrin watched as Kim spoke with the man and wondered what she was missing. Kim seemed to think carefully about every answer, as if they were all vitally important, or potentially dangerous.

"So, how did you get involved?"

"I just happened to be there when Meledrin and Keeble came through the gate. I've been backpacking."

"Keeble? There's someone else? And you didn't think to mention this before?"

"Well, you weren't giving me much time to think." Kim shrugged. "I don't know where Keeble is. We lost him on the train."

"Lost him?" Gainis sighed and raised his eyebrows all at once.

"Well, possibly he deliberately ran away. It's hard to know for sure. He and Mel don't like each other too much, you see."

"So there's another elf walking around somewhere?"

Meledrin laughed. How ridiculous. "No elves. An elf would not have become separated, either by mistake or on purpose. Keeble is a dwarf."

"A dwarf? Oh, this gets better and better."

"You are suggesting that I am lying?" Meledrin arched an eyebrow. The manners of every human she met left a lot to be desired.

"Of course not; I went to another world."

"Dwarves and elves, right?" Kim said. "You are wondering if you will see hobbits next. Well, get used to it."

"Yes."

He checked his papers again, though what he might find there, Meledrin could not imagine.

"Any ideas where we might start looking for Keeble?"

"No," Kim replied.

"You know nothing that might help us?" He turned for a moment to look at Meledrin.

Meledrin did not know why she had originally risked her reputation and standing in Grovely by deciding to help Keeble. She had regretted the decision almost every moment since. But she also wondered if the changing circumstances gave her the right to ignore the responsibility she had taken on. She looked away for a moment. "He will probably be repairing something."

"Pardon."

"He will be repairing something," Meledrin said again. "It is what dwarves do. They make things and repair things."

"Great. That narrows it down."

Meledrin sniffed and looked around at the interior of the helicopter. Like most of the human vehicles she had seen, it was cold and lifeless. Meledrin wanted to feel the breeze again, and rain. She wanted to be away from the men and their incessant questions. She wanted to be back on Sherindel. She had wanted to stay when they had taken the American to see, but neither he nor the English soldiers would allow it. They were battling the bats on Sherindel, strengthening their position and moving outwards, but had not managed to find many survivors. Some of their own men were missing.

Meledrin sighed. Palsamon and Keeble were both here on Earth. Perhaps her place was here was well, but all she really wanted was to be away from the saveigni and the endless questions.

9: Shifting Sands

Tuki fazed out of the trance, letting it slowly slip away. Sounds and scents, colors and sensations followed one after the other like sand draining through his fingers, but the trailing edges of the vision clung to his consciousness like never before. For a moment, it was hard to separate the here from the there, to separate the now from the then. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his swirling thoughts. He felt a terrible sense of foreboding. When he opened his eyes, even that was gone, leaving him naked in the heat of the desert with just the memories. He blinked rapidly.

The warm wind touched his dark skin. Sand set it to tingling.

The day had drifted on, farther than he imagined. The shadow in which he sat had pushed its ragged edge several meters closer to the shattered, sand-choked well in the center of the square.

"I have travelled far," Tuki said to the glass ewer as he took it up in his hand. He knew he should not judge, but he would never have thought that such a plain item, made by humans, would be able to take him so far. When he had first found the ewer, buried beneath the sand in the corner of a desert-drowned house, he had thought it would hold no life within its flawed form. But life it had contained, and what a life!

He wondered what long-dead human had possessed enough skill to produce such a wonderful Eye. And he wondered what journey he had made. Obviously it was a journey of many kilometers, for no such hills were in the desert, and he had never heard of anything like the strange snaking creature he had seen. But had he also travelled in time? Had he witnessed what was, or what will be? Or had he watched the meteor's destruction of the silver trail as it happened? And what of the other creatures — the three legged ones and those with the hard, colorful shells who rode the strange bats? There were too many questions to be answered by one young male, alone in the desert.

Pursing his full, thick lips in concentration, Tuki turned the ewer over. It was a small item for him, sitting comfortably on the palm of his broad moai hand, but for a human it would have been quite large. The glass was green, cracked, with a single, simple geometric pattern that offered no real attraction. Finishing his examination, Tuki found no physical qualities to match the spiritual one he had already witnessed.

He placed the ewer carefully onto his naked thighs. Closing his eyes, he once more pushed his consciousness into the glass. This time however, he did not join completely with it, instead just touching at its edges so that he could ask questions of it.

The breath of the desert caressed his chest as he twisted his thoughts through the silicates, touching at the reflections they offered. The wind brushed gently across his thighs and stomach. It kissed his face and fingers as he chanted softly. It ruffled his dark, curly hair.

But the ewer, thousands of years in the desert, held nothing beyond what it had already given. It provided hints of the journey he had already taken, but could not tell of its home.

When Tuki fazed into the real world once again, letting himself down gently, the shadow of the wall had stretched its fingers all the way to the well, poking at the crumbling stones, the first tentacles of night groping across the landscape.

He carefully set the ewer down in a protective hollow of sand, rose to his feet, and stretched, arching his back and standing up to his full two hundred and fifteen centimeters. When he was done, he looked to each of the compass points in turn and bowed to the remains of the day, thanking Poti, the Mother Blower, for the gifts She had given.

To the south, he could see nothing except the rise and fall of the desert, going on forever as far as anyone knew. "Thank you for the Desert," Tuki said.

To the east, a hill thrust up above the dunes, a rocky knob in the waves of sand. "Thank you for life."

Northward, out of sight over the horizon, was Dry River, snaking its way from the moai homelands into the world of man. "Thank you for what you have given."

And westward, where the Mother Blower was sinking down behind a long ridge. "Thank you for Glass: the present, the past, the future, light in darkness."

Tuki left the ewer where it was and explored the rest of the village in the gathering gloom. Only three buildings of the dozen in evidence still had more than one wall standing. Most had long ago given in to the creep of time and sand. He searched until the Mother Blower was long gone and the Skeleton constellation was high above the horizon, but he could not sense any more glass that might let him unravel some of the mysteries he felt he had uncovered.

When he finally started to run north, Tuki's mind was alive with questions that would probably never be answered.

The heat of day dispersed quickly as Tuki continued to run. He flowed through the night like the cool wind, not rousing the creatures of the desert from their nocturnal activities, his broad feet hardly marking the desert. He counted each step as the landscape slipped by. Each kilometer much like the one before, each hour much like the one before, with just the dunes and occasional islands of stone, and the numbers in his head. Counting.

The air was cool, the sounds of the night a gentle chorus.

Near midnight, Tuki stopped for the first time, resting on the crest of a tall dune, the desert stretched out around him in all directions. He wriggled his large toes in the sand, stooped and let the fine grains sift through his fingers. He lifted a handful and threw it into the air, watching as the silicates caught the moonlight and flared like a thousand new stars for a moment, before raining down around him. Tuki closed his eyes then, breathed in the crisp presence of the desert, letting it fill his being.

As he stood, silent on the dune, Tuki felt something change, as if the drift of the world had slowed. He looked at the night and the desert. The desert remained as still as ever, but the sky was ablaze with the light of a new moon. Except it wasn't a moon. It moved like a meteor, flashing across the darkness for three heartbeats, four. It seemed to look into him as the desert had earlier. But it was not like the attention of the desert. It was not like a friend or mother.

Then suddenly, unspeakably, the meteor changed direction, zagging back across the sky like an errant firefly.

Tuki stared. He shivered, suddenly cold and fearful, and wished he had some clothing to cover his nakedness. But he had nothing, no way he could hide from the penetrating gaze above him.

As suddenly as it had come, the comet was gone, hiding behind the glare of a real moon, revealing the stars once more, all exactly where they should be — a few days short of their Midsummer Night's position. For a long time Tuki stood staring at the sky, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did happen, and he started to run again. The beauty of everything around him was forgotten, the joy washed away by a residue of fear.

* * *

Millennia earlier, a dozen moai communities had dotted a five hundred kilometer length of Dry River. The furthest east had been just twenty kilometers from human lands. The furthest west had been located at the point where the snaking gully of Dry River met the feet of the Fargo Hills and curved to the south. Now, only one village remained.

Danyon Ford, halfway between those two outposts, had always been the largest village and was the natural congregation point for survivors when populations started to dwindle. A hundred moai had once resided within Danyon Ford, but that number had swollen to more than five hundred several centuries earlier. Now the population stayed at a worrying, almost constant level. Danyon Ford was home to one hundred and twenty seven moai: all that remained on Kiva as far as anyone knew.

Tuki could not see the village from his vantage point atop the dune, but three wisps of smoke from the first of the breakfast fires were drifting up out of the trees four kilometers from where he stood. With a deep breath he started to jog down the long slope, angling slightly westwards, toward the place he left his clothes five days earlier. He did not realize how tense the sighting of the comet had made him, but it was unusual to be so far off course after such a short run. And with home in sight he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

As soon as he reached his robe and sandals Tuki snatched them up and scrambled down the bank of Dry River and into the welcoming shade of the trees. He did not stop to thank Poti, as was proper, nor did he wait until he was dressed. Instead, he struggled into his sandals as he hurried along the winding, hard packed path, then arranged his short toga over his right shoulder and tied the rope belt about his waist. He was still adjusting the folds of material when he came upon the first of the other villagers. A go'shin, wearing his toga wrapped about his waist to show his married status, was clearing clumps of weeds from a narrow irrigation channel that took water from a well to the vegetable gardens. Tuki wanted to relate his tale to a mo'shi as soon as possible, but he was forced to stop when the other man rose to his feet.

"Tuki," the go'shin said as he wiped his mud caked hands on his toga. His name was Ulani, and he was a few months younger than Tuki. "You were not expected back until tomorrow."

"I know, go'shin." Tuki examined the ground as he spoke and continued to toy with his clothing. "I completed my pilgrimage, but have run non-stop to return."

"Where did you go, Tuki? Did you find anything?"

"Yes, go'shin, I found a village fifty kilometers beyond the Konane Line, and there was something there." Tuki shifted from foot to foot. He looked up briefly and saw that the go'shin already had the first Shin tattoos on the right side of his upper body.

"Really? An uncharted village? Are you sure?" Ulani's wife, Ko'uka, had drawn four symbols on the dark skin of his right pectoral.

"Yes, go'shin, I am sure. I may only be a go'gan, but I know the location of all the human villages."

"Of course, Tuki." Ulani held up a placating hand. "I was not questioning your knowledge. I was merely surprised. No new villages have been found for centuries."

"I apologize, go'shin."

"No need to apologize. You have a right to defend your honor."

"Thank you, go'shin." He glanced up to look along the path towards the village.

The married man laughed slightly. "You look as if you want to be somewhere else, go'gan."

"Yes. As I said, I did discover something, and I wish to speak with a mo'shi as soon as possible."

"Oh? You really did discover something? Other than the village?"

"Yes, go'shin."

"Well, come with me. Ko'uka may only have married me a week ago, but she is a mo'shi. She is in the weaving hut at the moment."

"Thank you, go'shin."

"We used to be friends, Tuki," Ulani said, "you can call me by my name if you wish."

"Thank you, go'shin, but it would not be proper."

Ulani shrugged and, wiping his hands some more, led the way towards the village — his back was still bare, but would not remain so for long. Tuki hurried along behind, ducking under low hanging branches without thought, trying to calm himself before meeting a mo'shi.

He examined his own tattoos, as if that might help. All it really did was remind him that he had seen nineteen summers and still had no markings on his right hand side. He did not yet have a wife to mark his skin.

On his left pectoral was a triangle, sides curving inwards. On his shoulder and dipping down his arm, were leaves from the Tree of Life. The leaves seemed to be chained in place just below his shoulder by the six Links of Creation. And on his forearm were hundreds of tiny ants, crawling across his dark skin.

He still had a small spot on the back of his hand to fill before he would stop. After that, it would be up to the Goddess to decide if any other parts of his body were to be marked as well.

He would be able to do his own face, if he undertook important duties for Poti, though it was unusual for that to happen to any man. The rest of his body? Tuki sighed and thought of Keala for a moment before shaking his head and turning his thoughts out to the real world.

The center of Danyon Ford was only fifty meters from the northern bank of Dry River. The half dozen buildings to the south of the plaza were the dormitories for the go'gan. The structures, built from carved logs and thick thatch, were supposed to house more than one hundred people. Now, most of them were silent apart from the thatching whispering to the breeze. With day still coloring the sky, the unmarried men were all working and the narrow alleys between the buildings were still and lifeless as well.

The unmarried women, the mo'by, were working in the plaza, talking quietly as they did. Some were grinding meal between smooth glass stones; others were preparing fruits to be preserved. Keala was there, her thick braid a stripe of black across her tattooed shoulder and pale wrap. Tuki watched her, noting the play of light across her cheek, before catching himself and returning his attention to Ulani's broad back. He heard a snatch of laughter from Keala's friends and his face warmed with embarrassment.

On the far side of the plaza were the houses of the mo'shi. Tuki and the other unmarried males were not permitted beyond the shin-high stone wall that marked the boundary, so he was forced to wait in the shade of a haver tree beside the ceremonial gateway while Ulani continued forward to find his wife. He did not have to wait long. He counted only 52 green haver nuts before she arrived.

Ko'uka was a small, slim woman, not even two meters tall. Her hair was piled in a grand bun on the top of her head, marking her as married. A sunrise was tattooed on her chest, a tree skink on her left shoulder, and the Skeleton constellation on her right. Around them all swirled the whorls of the Life Mist. She would have marriage tattoos as well, though none but Ulani would ever see them. Her face already carried the calm certainty of her position. Tuki watched as she stepped up to the fence and nodded slightly.

"Thank you, Mother, for coming to see me." Tuki risked a glance up from the ground. Though she had not held the title of mo'shi for very long, the change in Ko'uka was noticeable. The playful glint Tuki had known well had disappeared from her eyes.

"Why would I not, Tuki?" she asked.

"I don't know, Mother. I am sure you are busy."

"What is it that you want? Did you complete your pilgrimage?"

"Yes, mo'shi. But while I was in the desert, something happened that I wish to speak of." Tuki had a quick look about for Ulani, but the other man had already returned to his work.

"Yes?"

Tuki was very uncomfortable. He could not remember a time when he had been alone in the presence of women. There were not even any girls about. "I saw a meteor, Mother," he said softly, eyes once more focused on the ground at the mo'shi's bare feet. He bit his bottom lip as he tried to control his twitching hands.

"A meteor?"

Tuki glanced up and the glint had returned to Ko'uka's eyes, though it was more like the glint of steel than the warmer flash of sunlight off glass that he remembered.

"You saw a meteor, Tuki?" The woman laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. The mo'min has said nothing of a meteor."

Perhaps it hadn't been a meteor, but he had seen something.

"A meteor! Would you like me to tell the mo'min what you have said?"

Tuki continued to examine his feet.

"And what else would you like me to tell her? Perhaps I could let her know that the Poti will rise in the west tomorrow?"

"No, mo'shi."

Ko'uka cocked her head to one side. "You want to say more?"

"The meteor, it changed direction."

"The mo'min has said nothing of a meteor, Tuki. And the rest..."

When Tuki looked up, Ko'uka had gone. He turned about himself, and quickly made his way towards the dormitory that was his home. 15, 20, 24 Mo'by in the plaza. That was all of them. Every one. They were watching him as he hurried away.

Tuki climbed the stairs onto the dormitory's front porch and sat down against a wall, head in his shaking hands. He would be lucky if he ever married now. Why would Keala want anything to do with him? Why would any of them? And he had not even told the mo'shi about his vision.

10: Old Rules

Tuki was ready for the extra duties. It was not punishment, the mo'min would never prescribe such a thing, but more like a way to tune himself back into the well being of the village. He had set off along Dry River that morning, glad to have the opportunity.

Since then, with time to give the matter some thought, he had decided he was wrong to mention the meteor. If it existed, the mo'min would have seen it in her nightly correspondence with Poti. Such a thing did not just appear unexpectedly. And if she had seen, then the mo'min must have had a reason for not speaking about it. Tuki was either mistaken in what he saw or was poking his nose into women's business, a place where it most definitely did not belong.

As he trudged east, Tuki tried to put the whole incident from his mind. That, and the vision shown to him by the green ewer. He still wished to speak with someone about it but doubted he would get close to even a small girl without her breaking into fits of laughter.

Tuki continued to walk steadily for the rest of the morning. He could have run the distance quite easily, but he enjoyed the time alone to think. Unfortunately, time and again, he found his mind returning to the meteor. Its very presence scared him.

But he had already sorted that out in his mind. He had.

But if he had imagined the meteor, why had he imagined that it changed direction? Was it a sign of some kind? Was it the Mother Blower telling him to change his ways? Or change his life? And if the meteor were real, and the mo'min had chosen not to mention it, that seemed to be much worse. A meteor that could change direction? A divine message that was too frightening, ambiguous, or secret to be passed on to all the moai in Danyon Ford?

Reaching the next village, abandoned long ago, Tuki waited a long time near the edge of the trees. Humans ventured down Dry River as seldom as moai entered the realms of man, which was almost never, but still, that was too often for his liking.

Finding no evidence of anything other than animals of a base nature, Tuki made his way between the buildings, stealing with a twinge of guilt between the dormitories of the mo'by. He could not even understand young girls, so he most certainly did not want to pry into the secrets of the unmarried women lest something deeper be revealed. Entering the plaza, he crossed to the low wall on the northern side. There was nothing stopping him from stepping through the gate, but he stopped nonetheless and glanced about as if a mo'shi might step forth to remonstrate with him.

When he was satisfied that he was still alone, Tuki bowed slightly and, offering a small prayer of protection, stepped through the narrow gap that was the gateway. Never would he have dreamed of stepping over the wall itself, even on his own in the silent village and with the low wall hardly standing at all.

At the first building Tuki stopped to look inside. What he saw was the tumbled down remains of a wooden bed decades out of use. The bed was large enough to hold two people, and he wondered what huge woman had lived there. With another small bow he hurried on, almost with his eyes closed, as he followed the mo'shi's directions to the Glass Blower's Workshop.

When he finally reached the door to the workshop, Tuki stopped to stare. When he'd been told of his task he had thought it pointless, beyond channeling his thoughts in the proper direction, but now he was not so sure. The door was solid, as was proper in such an important structure, but also a thing of great beauty. Colored glass beads had been set into the surface, mapping out the constellations of Mid-Summer's Night. For as long as he could remember, Tuki had not attended the Mid-Summer Festival. Instead he had drifted away to a quiet place he knew. There, he would lie back and watch the heavens wheel above him. He remembered each point of light like the features of Keala's face, and they were duplicated perfectly on the door. After gazing for several minutes, Tuki carefully, and with a feeling of sacrilege, pried the door away from the frame. With a grunt of effort he hoisted it onto his shoulder and began the long walk home with his ear pressed against a window that showed the sky two nights into the future.

* * *

From his position just outside the village, Tuki could just make out the fire in the plaza. The men were in the light while the women waited elsewhere. Perhaps they were in the darkness around the plaza or performing some ceremony of their own, Tuki did not know.

The festivities had continued unabated since dusk. The go'gan, the unmarried men, were dancing, beating out the rhythm of the desert with their hands and feet, naked and chanting. The go'shin sat in a semicircle to the south, clapping and chanting as well, but still wearing their togas about their waists. They were married, and therefore married to the Mother Blower, and it would not be proper for just anyone to look upon them.

Tuki closed his eyes and listened to the rhythms, watching in his mind's eye while his friends danced about the fire. Attendance of the festival was not compulsory, but everyone went. Except Tuki. He sometimes wondered if that were one of the reasons he was not yet married, but it was not his place to ask, so he did what he did and hoped that Poti did not hold it against him. He valued the company of his friends and the good favor of the women, but he also liked to sit in the quiet to think. Especially on Mid-Summer's Night.

He opened his eyes again and pillowed his head on his arms. The sky above was clear, the stars bright with the promise of a new year. For a moment Tuki thought he saw a meteor again, but this time he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, dreaming up proof of the earlier sighting. He sighed and watched the stars wheel.

When Rapa, largest of the moons, slipped into view between the trees, he knew that the women would be emerging from the darkness to sit to the north of the fire in their long, ceremonial robes. Moments later he heard their keening song, like the wind across the desert, joining the chorus. Even the mo'min would be there, skyglass held protectively in her lap, on view this one time a year for the men to catch a glimpse.

"Tuki? Tuki are you out here?"

Tuki sat bolt upright and held his breath.

"Tuki? Where are you?"

Keala emerged from the trees then, and Tuki knew that staying silent would not help.

"I am here."

"Why didn't you answer me?"

He shrugged in the darkness. "I do not know." He was very uncomfortable, alone with a mo'by like this. It was not proper. "You should not be here," he said. "If they found us we would be punished."

"They will not find us." She laughed softly, pushing her braid back over her shoulder as she sat down by his side. "None of them would leave the ceremony without instructions written in stars across the sky." She glanced up then, as if to be sure no such instruction were appearing.

Tuki was aghast. "Keala, you cannot say things like that. What if the mo'min found out?"

"Are you going to tell her, Tuki? From what I hear you would not get anywhere near the mo'min right now."

"What have you heard?"

"Oh, so now you suddenly want to talk with me!"

"What?" He tried to shimmy away without her noticing. She was scaring him.

"I have been trying to talk to you for days, but you keep avoiding me."

"I do not." But he did. If she knew he had seen a meteor when there was none to see, she would laugh. Her laugh normally warmed his soul, but it certainly would not if were directed at him. "You should not be out here, Keala."

"Yes, I know. But I could not talk to you any other way."

"You can simply send for me."

"No, I cannot." She lowered her gaze.

"The mo'min has said you are not to talk to me? And yet here you are!"

"What happened, Tuki? Why do you have the extra duties? Why are the mo'shi laughing at you?"

"The mo'shi are laughing?" The mo'by were one thing, but to have the mo'shi laughing as well.

"I am sorry."

She placed a hand on his knee, and he flinched. He dared not push it away.

"Tell me what happened. I am worried for you."

"You are?"

She shifted closer so that her whole side was pressed against his. "Of course I am."

"I should not say," Tuki said.

"Just because Ko'uka is a mo'shi, she does not know everything. They are just people like everyone else."

"Keala!" Tuki would have risen to his feet but was afraid he might hurt Keala, or upset her, and he did not want that. "You cannot say things like that. Please."

"If the mo'shi knew everything, they would have let me marry you by now, Tuki. You are the only man I would ever want to marry."

Tuki turned to look at Keala and inadvertently brushed his nose against hers. She was so close to him, leaning in. "You have asked? You have asked for permission to marry me?"

"Of course, Tuki. I ask almost every week, but they keep saying no."

Keala did not let Tuki reply. She leant forward further, crossing the tiny space between them, and pressed her lips to his. She took the words from his mouth along with the breath. He backed away slightly, but she followed, only allowing the contact to break for a moment. After that, he stayed where he was, helpless, as if she were a demon drinking of his soul. But it was a wonderful release, and he soon started to respond. When he did, the mo'by slipped her tongue between his lips and, feeling slightly faint, Tuki laid back on the ground. Keala followed him again, laying a hand against his cheek as her tongue continued to probe.

She tasted of sweet jilaberries.

An eternity, too short by far, passed before Keala pulled away slightly. She ran her fingers up his arms, making it feel as if the tattooed ants had come to life. She used her thumb to trace the edges of the three pointed star on his chest — the gateway to heaven caused by the joining of the three moons. She touched her fingers to his tingling lips. "That is called a kiss. It is a simple thing, a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

She kissed him again, quickly, biting his lip.

Tuki steeled himself and wrapped an arm around her, praying to the Mother Blower that he was doing the right thing.

"The mo'shi show us," she whispered. "They show us all but say we cannot do these things with men until we are married. Not all the rules made by the mo'min and the mo'shi are good ones, Tuki."

"Why? Why would they not let us do such a thing?"

"They show us so many things."

Tuki swallowed, eyes growing wide. "There's more?"

"Oh, yes. There's a lot more."

Tuki swallowed. He didn't dare ask.

Keala kissed him again, running her tongue along the tips of his teeth. "Not now. Next time."

"Next time?"

"Yes, but now I must get back. They may not miss you at the Midnight Ceremony any more, but they will miss me."

"I will miss you." He felt embarrassed before he finished uttering the sentence.

"And I, you." She was gone then, running quickly away through the trees.

Tuki watched her go, silent and marvelling.

* * *

Tuki carefully wiped the last layer of soil away from the tuber and then worked his large fingers down the sides until he could pull it from the ground. He set the vegetable on the cloth with the others before a sound from the trees, a slight rustle amongst the dry undergrowth, disturbed him. He looked out across a narrow irrigation drain, but the sound did not repeat, so he returned his gaze to the ground as he tried to find more food to add to the community's supply.

Tuki had hardly returned to his search when he heard the sound again. He turned quickly, heart racing, to discover Keala leaning against a tree, one foot raised to press against the rough bark behind her.

"Hello, Tuki. How are you?"

Rising to his feet, Tuki wiped his shaking hands on his toga. His heart was still racing, but for other reasons now. Whenever possible, Tuki made an effort to be alone with Keala, or made it possible for her to find him alone. Then they would kiss. The thought of the promised 'more' kept him awake at night. But so far it had not eventuated.

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

He walked to the edge of the irrigation drain in two long strides, pausing for a moment to gather his breath. He looked about, over his shoulder towards the village, to his left, towards the nearest trail. Nobody was in sight. He took another step, across the drain, and a moment later was kissing her gently on the cheek.

He wondered at his boldness.

"No, Tuki," she said. "Don't."

"What?"

"We cannot do this."

"Nobody will see us."

But she pushed him away slightly. "Stop it." The sound of command was strong in her voice, and he had spent too long doing as women asked not to obey.

Tuki took a step back. "What? Why?"

Keala walked a short distance away. "We may not like the laws that the mo'min has made, Tuki, but they are the laws. I feel guilty about what we have been doing. But at the same time, I love you so and wish to be with you all the time."

"Then what can we do?"

"I don't know, Tuki." Keala pushed a lock of hair away from her face. "But until we are wed, or the law is changed, we cannot kiss again. We just cannot. Please understand."

"Then we must get married." Tuki stepped forward again and gripped Keala's hands. "We must get married."

"Oh, Tuki, you know that I would in an instant, if only they would let us. But they will not let us. We cannot get married without the approval of the council of mo'shi."

"Then we must change the law."

"But, Tuki, only the mo'min can change the law. You know that."

"So you must become the mo'min."

Keala laughed at that. "Tuki, you know very well that the mo'shi choose the mo'min from amongst their number. Unless..." For a long moment Keala looked thoughtful, then shook her head and slumped to the ground.

"What?" Tuki asked. He sat by her side and rested his trembling hand on her arm. "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing. It's just, the mo'min is the mo'min because she is the rightful holder of the skyglass."

"So, you take the skyglass."

"Now you are really thinking with your wishbone, Tuki. I said the rightful holder, not the person who happens to have it."

"What are you talking about then, Keala?" Tuki could not resist. He leant forward and kissed her cheek again. She did not complain, so he moved to the corner of her mouth.

"I was just thinking, if I had another skyglass I would have as much right to be called mo'min as the current mo'min." She finally responded to his kiss for a moment before turning her head away. "Tuki, there were other mo'min before, long ago. There must be more skyglasses somewhere."

Tuki heard what she was saying but did not really care. "But where will you find one?" he asked absently, knowing that such a question had to be asked.

"One of the younger girls brought me a book, Tuki. An ancient book. She says she found it in a buried box. It explains where one might be found."

"Does it?" What a book might be he could not guess. More women's secrets, like kissing, he supposed.

"Yes. Tuki, if you find that skyglass and give it to me, I can be a mo'min as well, and I can change laws."

"Yes." He kissed her again.

"Tuki," Keala said a moment later, "when I see you I cannot keep my longing at bay, so until you find that skyglass, I don't think we will be able to see much of each other at all."

Tuki groaned. "Of course I will find it, Keala. Where is it? Do you know?"

11: Engineer

Keeble grunted and made his way down the aisle towards the rear of the train. He examined the little, stiff piece of parchment Kim had given him. There were lines of neatly printed writing, but nothing understandable. Through the next hydraulically powered door, he threw the paper onto the floor.

As he walked, Keeble started to sing a Song. Well, it wasn't a song really, but an attempt to recreate the noise the door between the worlds had made. There were clicks and whistles and buzzes, but no matter what he did, he couldn't get it right. His mind kept pushing the song in another direction, as if never quite coming to grips with what he was trying to do.

He gave up and continued to walk.

Three carriages later, Keeble was wondering why he'd bothered. One row of seats looked much like the one before, and though the people might have been interesting, he could understand nothing of the conversations.

At the end of the carriage, Keeble discovered he could go no further. With a grunt of disgust he chose a seat and sat himself down. The large black dwarf beside him looked him up and down for a moment.

“[Heading to Nottingham? Or further?]” the stranger asked.

Keeble shrugged and spoke in his own language to demonstrate that conversation was going to be impossible. The other dwarf shrugged as well and returned to staring out the window.

It wasn't long before another dwarf tried talking to him. This one emerged from the locked door. He wore a grey uniform.

“[Tickets, please,]” he said. “[Tickets, please.]” He touched Keeble on the shoulder when he didn't respond. “[Could I see your ticket please, sir?]”

"Can't understand a word you're babbling," Keeble replied. He put on what he hoped was a pleasant smile.

“[Can I see your ticket, please?]” The dwarf in the uniform reached past him and took something from the black dwarf. It was a little slip of paper. He held it up for Keeble to see, then handed it back.

"You want to see my little bit of parchment? What for?" He pointed back the way he'd come. "It's down that way, about two carriages back. You want it, you can go get it yourself."

“[Do you have a ticket? If you don't, you'll have to buy one or get off at the next station.]”

"Why do you keep talking at me when it's obvious I can't understand a word you're saying?" Keeble smiled again and shrugged.

He watched the stranger pull what appeared to be coinage from a shoulder bag he carried. “[Do you have any money?]” he said, twiddling the silver disk between his fingers.

Keeble thought he knew what the dwarf meant there. He shook his head.

“[Then I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to disembark at Hucknall Station.]”

Keeble shook his head again. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

“[Would you please come with me, sir.]”

The stranger gripped Keeble's arm, but he shook him off angrily.

“[Are you going to leave quietly?]”

Keeble didn't move, and the stranger had a short conversation with one of the talking boxes. A moment later another uniformed dwarf came from the other end of the carriage. This one was larger and younger, and Keeble didn't bother resisting as he was led from the train when it next stopped.

Meledrin wasn't going to be happy. Keeble smiled as another dwarf in uniform escorted him from the station and left him standing beside the road.

“[Just think yourself lucky you haven't been fined.]”

Keeble ignored him, looking one way and then the other. "Maybe I should have taken them to talk to Kim."

But it was too late. And there was too much for him to look at to remain worried for long. He set off after a bicycle that had gears and what looked like a generator on the back wheel to run its own little electric light. The bicycle and its rider soon left him behind and he tried to follow a two-wheeled motorized vehicle instead. When he stopped to rest, Keeble saw a tiny car, hardly more than a foot long, racing along the raised walking area beside the road. He was off again.

Keeble wandered around the city as the afternoon waned, moving from one wonder to the next. Eventually he made his way into a narrow alley to investigate a noise and discovered a fabulous workshop.

Keeble watched from outside the workshop for a long time. Sometimes he leaned with his back against the cool red bricks of the building across the alley. Sometimes he sat on an old wooden box, though it was in a horrid state of disrepair and looked as though it might fall apart at any moment. Sometimes, when the engineer disappeared into another part of the workshop, he even went all of the way across to the doorway to have a look around. There were so many things he wanted to examine. The strange vehicles were everywhere inside with inspection panels opened, parts removed. But he didn't go in. A workshop was a dwarf's life; he'd never invade it without being invited.

When darkness descended and the engineer locked his doors, Keeble stayed where he was. He found a corner and sat himself down. He used a paperboard box as protection against the wind. He was hungry and tired and cold, but he stayed where he was, awake for hours as the strange moon marched shadows around the alley.

In the morning he was awake and standing by the little wooden door when the engineer returned to open up. Keeble played nervously with the gears on his arm as the dwarf looked at him sideways.

"Hello," Keeble said. He'd learned at least that much of the language.

The engineer was older than Keeble had first thought. His beard was run through with flecks of grey, and his face was creased with the weight of years. “[Hi, there. How you doin'?]”

Keeble shrugged. He didn't understand but smiled and nodded because he thought that might be a good response. "Can I watch you work?" he asked, motioning into the workshop. He wouldn't go in there without being invited, but surely he could ask to be invited.

“[Not a clue what you're talking about there, buddy.]”

Keeble shrugged once more, then pointed to his eyes, then to the other dwarf, and into the workshop.

“[What? You want to watch me work?]” The engineer paused for a moment, shrugged, then motioned inside.

Keeble took that as his invitation. He walked quickly in and sat on a barrel near the vehicle that appeared to need the most work.

"Me Keeble." With a nod.

“[What?]”

"Keeble." This time he simply pointed.

“[Your name's Keeble? Jesus, what were your parents thinking?]”

"Keeble."

“[Yeah, Keeble, how you doin'? Don't understand a goddamned thing, do ya? And you want to watch me work? Oh well, whatever. Just don't touch nothin', you understand? Jesus, course you don't understand. My name is Colin. Colin.]”

Keeble nodded happily. "Colin." Then he had to sit and wait for a couple of minutes while Colin took himself off to another room. When he returned, he was pulling on a one-piece set of clothes that covered his whole body. He already had one arm in a sleeve, and he was using that hand to carry two cups of steaming liquid.

“[That's a weird lookin' arm you got there, Keeble,]" Colin said as he handed over one of the cups. “[Where you get that from?]”

Keeble nodded and smiled as he sniffed suspiciously at the drink. It smelled wonderful.

“[Know much about cars, do you?]” Colin took a mouthful of drink, smacking his lip appreciatively, then collected a hammer from a box full of tools and started to pound on a part of the engine. Keeble watched carefully. The old dwarf didn't seem very enthusiastic, so Keeble jumped down from his perch and wandered across to get a better look.

"That's a bolt," he said. "Why are you hitting a bolt with a hammer?"

The engineer went to strike the offending object again, but Keeble grabbed his hand before he could do so. With a grunt, he took the hammer away, crossed to the tools and selected the appropriate spanner. The bolt was tight but it took him only a moment to work it loose. He handed the spanner to Colin.

"You use a spanner to undo bolts."

“[Strong little bugger, ain't ya.]”

Keeble watched half the morning and Colin didn't even fix one of the vehicles. After a while a dwife came in. She babbled for a while, gave Keeble a strange look, then moved quickly out of sight.

"You allow dwives in your workshop?" Keeble asked. He suddenly understood why the engineer was so slow. If he had to put up with women nattering inanities at him all day he wasn't likely to get anything done.

When the strange bell started ringing, Keeble was bored enough to go and have a look.

Down in the back corner of the workshop he found a fading plywood door, and when he pushed it gently, he was offered a view of a small office. The dwife, her floral dress trying to compete with the drab but not having much luck, sat at a desk with a black thing nestled between her shoulder and drooping head. She was speaking into it rapidly and didn't see him watching.

She talked, nodding and punctuating long silences with "Uh huh, uh huh," as if she were holding a conversation with the thing. As she talked, the dwife wrote in a large notebook. She wrote. Keeble was sure she was writing. Random squiggles wouldn't be so uniform and neat. But how could they let a dwife learn to write? Finally it was too much for him. Allowing women to work was one thing — Ari had always wanted to work, and he had reluctantly let her — but to let them write? Keeble pushed the door the rest of the way open and marched across the room. It wasn't a very big room, and his short legs covered the ground quickly. The dwife didn't look up until the last moment. When she saw him she surged back, and the thing fell away from her ear.

“[Get away from me.]”

Keeble snatched the stylus from her, fending away a weak blow with his metal arm. "Women aren't allowed to write," he said, as if she'd understand. He was about to find Colin and tell him what had happened when the engineer grabbed him on the shoulder.

“[What's going on here, Mona?]”

“[He barged in here and grabbed my pen. I was talking on the phone and... Oh, God.]” The dwife grabbed the black item off the floor. “[Mister Dennis? Mister Dennis? God, I wouldn't be surprised if he is calling the police right now.]”

Keeble used the stylus to gesture at the book. "She was writing, Colin. I saw her." They ignored him.

“[Do we need the police?]”

The dwife shook her head. “[I don't think so. He's a bit soft in the head, isn't he? Not all there?]”

“[Can't rightly say. Seems sensible and friendly enough for the most part, except for that gobbligook he speaks.]”

“[Well, sensible and friendly don't mean right in the head.]”

"What?" Keeble asked, pointing at the black thing.

“[That's a telephone, lad. Telephone. Christ, he doesn't even know what a phone is.]” Colin took his arm and led him from the room. “[Come and watch me fix the car.]” Over his shoulder he said, “[Mona, why don't you ring a couple of hospitals, see if they know anything.]”

But Colin didn't work any quicker after that, though he did name each part as he removed it, then again as he put it back in. Sometimes, when Keeble asked, he would try to explain the use of the parts with words and gestures.

By late morning, Keeble hadn't learned much about cars. But he had learned how to make coffee, and he'd learned what a cream biscuit was. Those discoveries were almost worth the morning's frustration. With his latest brew in hand he moved away from the engineer to look around the workshop. There was a wide array of tools, some of which Keeble had never seen, and most of which appeared to have been exactly where they were for a long time. For the most part, Colin seemed to make do with an adjustable spanner, two screwdrivers, and a hammer.

And then, wonder of wonders, he found a book. Normally books didn't excite him much at all, but this one contained pictures of a motor, with all the parts separated as if they'd been dismantled. Sitting in a corner, his coffee forgotten on the oil-stained concrete floor, Keeble searched the pages until he found a picture of a part he knew, then worked out from there. He examined each part, trying to imagine what it might do. The air filter was connected to the carburetor. That was where air was mixed with the fuel. Keeble asked Colin about the name of the next part, and followed the steps until he reached the end. Then he looked at the radiator.

Keeble ate fish and chips for lunch, sitting at a table with Colin and Mona. He drank some more coffee, listening to the two of them speak. He understood little of what they said but wasn't worried. He had the book open by his side and was still reading.

“[Did you find anything out from the hospitals?]”

“[No. They don't seem to know anything. And, with everything else going on, they don't really care.]”

“[Right. Excellent.]” Colin turned in Keeble's direction for a moment, and he took the opportunity to interrupt.

"Excuse," he said. "What?"

Colin looked at the picture he was pointing at, but at that moment the telephone rang in the office.

“[I'll get it, Mona,]” the engineer said. “[You finish your lunch.]” He rushed into the office, leaving Keeble and the dwife alone together.

Mona leaned over the see what he was pointing at. “[That's the clutch plate,]” she said, giving a slight smile. "Clutch plate."

Keeble eyed her suspiciously. "Clutch plate?" She was only a dwife, how would she know?

"That's right."

But he didn't trust her. He flipped back through the pages and pointed at another part that Colin had named earlier, covering the name with his thumb so she couldn't read it. "What?" he asked.

"Thermostat."

She was right. Keeble turned some more pages and pointed again.

"Fuel pump."

She was right again. Keeble went back to the picture he'd started from. "Clutch plate?"

"Yep."

Keeble grunted and gave a slight nod of his head. He said nothing more as he started to work away from the clutch plate. He didn't know what it did, exactly, but he would ask Colin later. He was not going to ask Mona.

* * *

Keeble watched the ticking hands of the machine on the wall. They'd kept a constant beat all day long. He decided the machine was a timekeeper, one more accurate than any he had ever seen. When the two biggest hands formed a straight line from top to bottom — six hours past noon, he guessed — Colin packed away his spanner, screwdrivers, and hammer and removed his work clothes. He washed up in a sink near the shit box at the back and came out wiping his hands on a dirty towel. Mona had left some time ago and the telephone had rung several times and remained unanswered.

“[Time to go, Keeble.]”

Keeble guessed that meant quitting time but wasn't keen on the idea. The box he'd slept in across the alley didn't seem all that welcoming. He loitered as Colin started to pull the chain that rolled down the big door.

“[You coming?]”

Keeble stayed where he was. He wound the gears on his hand, clutching at nothing.

“[You don't have anywhere to go, do you, lad?]”

Keeble shrugged.

“[Where do you live?]”

He shrugged again.

“[Jesus.]” Colin scratched at his grease stained neck. “[I can't take you home. Shelly'd kill me.]”

Keeble stood where he was and wound his hand in and out. In and out.

“[Jesus. How 'bout you stay here? Can I trust you in here? I can't believe I'm doing this.]”

The engineer led the way back to the office where Mona had spent most of the day. Keeble followed close behind.

“[Once I leave, you'll be stuck for the night, though. Understand?]”

Keeble didn't understand and said so.

“[Jesus. I saw you looking at the clock out there. You know a clock don't you.]” He pointed to one of the timekeepers on the wall.

"Clock?"

"Yes, clock." Colin nodded. “[Well, you'll be stuck in here for twelve hours, until the little hand has gone all the way around and come back to the six.]” He drew a big circle in front of the clock and Keeble understood what he meant.

"In here for..." He stumbled through half the sentence in the strange language, but didn't need to go any further.

“[Twelve hours. Yeah, that's right. You okay with that?]”

Keeble nodded and smiled.

“[Yeah, I suppose you would be. This couch was always too small for me to sleep on, though I done it often enough. Probably about the right size for you though.]” He led Keeble to a big, soft, shiny chair against one of the walls. “[And there's a bit of food and drink in the fridge. But you know where all that is.]”

Keeble remembered the fridge. It was the box that hummed and rattled and kept things cold.

“[And there's coffee.]”

"Coffee." Keeble liked coffee.

Colin stood where he was and looked around. “[Well...]”

"Thank you."

“[You're welcome, Keeble. I suppose. Just don't touch anything. Understand?]”

Keeble nodded. "Don't touch."

“[That's right. Jesus, what am I doing?]” He sighed. “[Just make sure you turn the lights off before you go to sleep.]” As he went back out into the workshop, Colin paused by the door and flicked a little white switch a few times.

Keeble jumped to his feet as the light in the room came and went with each flick. He rushed over to the switch to try it himself and was still playing when Colin locked the workshop's outer door.

12: Coffee and Cars

Keeble tried not to touch. He sat at the desk in the office, feet swinging above the cold plastic tiles of the floor, and flipped through another book. He made a coffee, with no milk or sugar to dilute the taste. He opened one of the plastic packets and ate the crunchy potato slices inside. He lasted until the little hand on the clock was pointing to the seven.

The cars were just outside, but he avoided the temptation. Instead he pulled apart the little music maker on the desk. A radio, Mona had called it. There were all sorts of things inside. He started at the power switch, following wires to each component, trying to work out what they might do. After that he pulled apart the computer.

But while we worked, the cars waited, crouching in the dark like dragons. It wasn't long before he screwed the computer back together, made himself some more coffee, and went out into the workshop. He spent a few minutes searching for the light switch. He realized, eventually, that it would be by the door. When he could see, Keeble chose the car closest to the bookshelf, so he could read the name on the badge of the car and look at all the books at the same time to see the ones that matched.

Morris Minor. He couldn't read the letters, but found a match and pulled it from the shelf.

"Yes." Five minutes later Keeble had pulled the covers off the ignition. He was examining how the key fitted and what happened after that. He knew where the starter motor was. He knew where the electricity holder was: the battery. He shook his head at the thought and smiled. "A little black box to hold electricity."

In a little diagram near the back of the book, he saw how they were linked and he followed the path on the car.

Then he reverently took the key, closed his eyes, and turned.

The whole car lurched forward. Keeble almost panicked.

He released the key and everything was still again. He got out to make sure nothing had been damaged.

"The motor's still connected to the wheels," he muttered once he was back in the driver's seat. "I need the clutch." He found the appropriate page in the book. He looked at the pictures. He looked at the pictures that connected to those pictures. He did need the clutch, a little pedal on the floor that he could hardly reach. He also needed the gears, which were controlled by the lever, by his side. He perched on the edge of the seat and pushed the pedal while he put the gears into the neutral position. He also found the lever that controlled the brakes. He tried the key again.

Keeble listened as the starter motor whined and tried to get the engine started. It rumbled into life but died just a second later. "More fuel," he said. "I need more fuel." But how did he get more fuel into the engine? He remembered seeing a picture that might explain how it was done, but that was a long time ago. He started going through the book. "Another pedal," he said eventually. "Of course."

So he pumped the pedal while turning the key. The engine rumbled into life, speeding up every time he pumped, and continued to go even when he climbed out. Keeble cheered and did a little jig.

But the engine didn't run very smoothly. Not as smoothly as some of the others he'd heard. There was also a scraping sound. He turned the car off again and started to examine the pictures in the book.

The strange Song from the magical door between worlds started to fill his mind with its shifting rhythms and dancing flows. He tried to make the sounds out loud, clicking and humming and Singing. He fitted it around his work.

The 'Morris' caused problems, but when Keeble finished that, two hours after midnight, he moved forward at full steam. He repaired the bit between the wheels of a 'Toyota' in a couple of hours and then started work on a 'Ford'. He was almost done with that, but before he could get the hood reattached, Keeble heard the rattling of keys outside the door and knew Colin had arrived. The song of the magical gate faltered for the first time. He worked faster for a few moments, before returning to his regular, steady pace. He needed about five more minutes and a mad dash now wasn't going to help. He was tightening the first bolt on the last hinge of the hood when the engineer finally came through the door.

“[Keeble, how are you lad?]”

Keeble looked up. Obviously Colin hadn't seen him. He didn't really want to be there when it happened.

“[What the hell? I thought I told you not to touch anything.]” The older dwarf hurried down to the end of the workshop where Keeble was holding the hood in place with his metal hand and his shoulder and tightening the second, and last, bolt with the other.

“[Why are you removing the hood? Lucky I got here when I did.]”

Colin took the spanner from Keeble's hand and quickly finished the job while Keeble watched and held the hood in place. When it was done, he jumped down to the floor and wiped his hand on a towel.

"It's fixed," he said. Colin couldn't understand him, though, so the anger showing on the dwarf's creased face continued to grow as he moved about the workshop looking at various cars.

“[What the hell else have you fiddled with?]”

Keeble decided the only way to halt the dwarf's growing anger was to show him what he'd done. He went quickly to the 'Morris' and climbed in.

“[What do you think you are doing?]”

Making sure the car was out of gear, Keeble pumped the pedal a couple of times as he turned the key.

“[Get out of there.]”

The car rumbled into life and Colin grunted. “[I reckon that thing hasn't sounded so good in twenty years.]”

He reached in and opened the hood. Keeble didn't know why when none of what he'd done was going to be visible. He turned the engine off and climbed out. When he joined Colin, the engineer was staring at the engine and muttering quietly.

“[How did you do this?]” Colin shrugged his shoulders, and Keeble got the message. He pointed to the books on the shelf and received a shake of the head in reply. “[You read a book and fixed it?]”

"Repair." Keeble said in Colin's language. "Work good." He pointed to the other two cars he'd done as well. "Them."

“[What?]”

"Them. Work good."

Colin almost ran from one car to the other, starting the engine of each and sitting for a moment to listen to the smooth growl.

Sitting in the last one he asked: “[You fixed them last night?]”

Keeble looked at him. 'Fix,' he knew, but the rest...

Colin went to the last car in the workshop and beckoned Keeble over with a long crooked finger. “[Can you fix this one? It needs a new gearbox.]” Colin showed him a part sitting near a bench, then pointed back to the car. “[Gearbox in there.]”

Keeble smiled and set to work.

The books remained on the shelf. Keeble saw enough engines during the night for the details to be indelibly inscribed across his consciousness. He worked for two hours and Colin stood close by watching his every move. When he was done, the engineer still didn't move. He stood and stared.

“[That's amazing. Amazing. Bloody hell.]” He wiped his hands on a towel, though the closest he had come to work was handing tools to Keeble when he was asked.

Mona walked in as he muttered.

"Hi, Colin." The dwife nodded to Keeble as well.

"Mona," Colin said in reply, though he hardly knew she was there.

“[What's the matter?]"

“[Keeble fixed them.]”

“[Fixed what?]”

“[The cars. Mister Henry's Morris and Jackie's car and Terry Dale's. And now he fixed this as well.]”

“[What?]”

“[He fixed them.]”

“[When.]”

Finally, Colin turned to look at her. He tugged at his beard. “[When do you think? Last night. This morning.]”

Mona seemed about to say something else. She opened her mouth, gave it some thought, then snapped her teeth back together.

Colin nodded. “[That's what I thought.]”

Keeble wondered if they were done. He turned off the car and climbed out. He stood for a while, looking at them while they stood looking at the car. Eventually he went and made some coffee. He made two at first then thought he would probably make someone angry if he didn't make Mona one as well. So he collected another cup from the cupboard under the sink and carefully measured out the brown powder and the sugar. He took the cups out into the workshop where Colin and Mona were deep in conversation.

“[He saved you about three days work, Colin, you have to give him something.]”

“[I didn't ask him to do anything at all, though. I was doing him a favor, remember. Maybe he was just paying me back.]”

“[He has no home, nothing besides what he has on his back, for all we know. A couple of tenners won't send us bust. Probably a good idea to offer him a job.]”

“[A job?]”

“[Looks like you could sit back with your feet up and watch.]”

Keeble handed them each a mug and sat on an overturned metal bucket. He sipped his coffee, boiling hot and strong, and sighed contentedly. But when he'd finished drinking, Mona and Colin were still talking. Just like a dwife. Stand around doing nothing and stop others from working as well. He shook his head and made his way over to the door.

After spending most of his life in a cave, he discovered that the sight of the sun in the morning was a wonderful experience. Such clarity and color. Out in the alley he looked up between the canyons of the buildings to the piercing blue of the sky. A scatter of clouds raced for the east.

And there, overtaking them all was a flying machine. Keeble smiled, hardly able to stop himself from running after it. Shading his eyes, he watched it go. It was a long way away but still seemed to move so quickly. It banked to the left, smoke streaming out behind, and disappeared behind the brown stone of the workshop. "A flying machine." He rushed back inside. "Colin."

"Yes."

"Flying machines? How do they work? Do you have one?"

“[Sorry?]”

"The flying machines." Keeble stretched his arms out to either side and sailed about the room, banking from side to side, bending his knees and stretching up on his toes. "The flying machines."

“[Planes?]”

"Planes. Yes..." He knew the words. "How work?"

“[Well, ahhh...]” Colin scratched at his cheek and stared at the ceiling as if searching for inspiration. “[That really depends on the plane, Keeble. There are normal planes, and there are jet planes.]”

Keeble didn't understand much of that at all, and he decided that he'd never learn if he relied on Colin to teach him. He would have to find out for himself. He waved. "Goodbye."

“[What? No, stay. There's no need to rush off.]”

"I go plane workshop." Keeble struggled through the sentence.

“[You just got here. Have another coffee.]”

"I want see planes." He waved again.

Mona started searching through the leather bag she carried over her shoulder. “[At least take this, Keeble.]”

"What?"

“[It's money.]” She handed him a small bundle of paper, closing his hand around it tightly.

Keeble didn't know the word. He shrugged his shoulders.

“[It's money,]” Colin said. Then to Mona: “[Show him a coin, he might know one of them.]”

The dwife searched through her bag again and pulled out a small metal disk with a face on one side and another picture on the other. A coin. So, maybe the paper was money. Keeble unfolded one of the pieces of paper and examined it. And the same face was on there. Money it was then.

“[One of those notes there will get you a coffee, love.]” Mona pointed at the note Keeble was examining then pointed to the coffee cup Colin still held.

Keeble smiled and thanked them but his mind was already on the planes. "Planes?" he asked.

“[Well, Hucknall Airfield is,]” Colin pointed, “[that way, I guess. I wish you would stay though, Keeble. We'll give you a job and all. So you can earn some more money.]”

"Planes. Thank you. Goodbye." He hurried out into the street.

Out on the main street, Keeble paused to look around. He'd forgotten how many dwarves there were, and cars and things. Everywhere he looked, something was happening.

He could see smoke between two buildings. Away to the northeast, bats swirled through the air like burnt leaves. Planes came and went, stitching the sky. But it all seemed so far away.

Another plane passed silently overhead, snapping Keeble's attention back to his mission. He wound the gears to adjust the angles on his hand.

"How far is it to the plane workshops?" he asked himself. "Which is the best way to go?" He looked one way along the street, then the other. And both ways looked much the same. Tall, rough looking buildings. Abnormally tall dwarves. Cars. He was about to choose a direction at random when a large car with a sign on top pulled up nearby. He'd seen similar ones before. An old dwife climbed gingerly out, struggling with a pair of bags and a walking stick.

Before he could decide where to go, someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Mona standing by his side.

“[It's only a couple of miles, but you'd just get lost. I'll give you some money for a cab.]” She hurried over to the car with the sign and spoke through the window with the driver. She handed him some money.

“[Come on. Get in.]”

Keeble didn't understand a word of it, but Mona motioned for him to get into the car. "What? Why?"

Mona pointed to the sky where a plane was racing across the blue. "Airport," she said. "Plane."

Perhaps the driver was going to take him to where they kept the planes. The airport. "Thank you," he said to Mona as he hurried to climb in the car. He sat on the edge of the seat, straining to see exactly how it was that the driver made the vehicle go, the rhythms that gave the actions life. Mona waved, and he waved vaguely in reply.

Clutch out, fuel down...

He licked his lips and wound the prongs on his hand in and out. The driver started to talk and didn't stop for the entire journey. Keeble liked him.

At the airport, Keeble jumped out almost before the cab came to a halt. He ran across the parking area and stopped at a high fence, fingers gripping the wire mesh tightly. Planes were parked nearby, lined up beside a large shed. Keeble smiled as he looked about for the easiest way in.

"Where's the gate?"

A building filled a break in the fence, allowing access from the car parking area to area beyond.

"There we go."

Inside, he found himself in a small, carpeted room. Pictures adorned the walls. One of a plane in flight. One of what must have been the airport from a plane. Another of a dozen men in front of three planes. There were some blue plastic chairs under the photos, and a yellow plant in a large pot in the corner. A counter took up one end of the room.

He tried a glass door that would lead him out to the planes.

"Locked." He sighed. The only other visible door was behind the counter. "I'm probably not allowed back there, though."

He went to the counter and waited. He could barely see over the top, but there didn't appear to be anything worth seeing anyway. He waited some more.

"Hello?"

No answer.

There was a sign on the counter with an arrow pointing to a button. Keeble looked at the sign, looked at the button, and looked at the sign again. With a shrug, he reached up and pressed the button. He was rewarded with a wonderful, mechanical buzzing sound from beyond the door. He left his hand near the button, his short fingers gripping the edge of the counter. No response, so he pressed the button again, and once more a few seconds after that. Finally the door opened and someone emerged.

A dwife. Always a dwife. Keeble grunted in disgust.

“[I'm sorry.]” She paused for a moment when she saw him. “[I was just on the phone.]”

"Phone." Keeble said in the local language. He smiled, holding his hand up to his ear and nodding.

“[What can I do for you? I'm sorry, but with all that's happening we aren't sending any planes up today. Or anytime soon, probably.]”

"Plane. Me fix plane. Work good."

“[You... Which plane? What are you talking about? I would like to help you, sir, but I don't know what you mean.]”

"Me..." Keeble looked at her.

“[Yes, I understand the words you are using, sir, but...]”

"Fix... plane."

“[You're looking for work?]”

"Yes. Me work plane. Fix."

“[I'm sorry sir, we aren't hiring at the moment.]”

Keeble didn't know how to explain to her. She was a dwife, so how was she to understand? He decided he'd sit down on one of the blue chairs and wait until a dwarf came so he could talk to him. Keeble sat down to wait.

“[I am sorry, sir, but I think you should leave. We aren't hiring. There are no positions available.]”

Keeble swung his legs, examining the tip of each boot in turn as it came into view. Scuffed left, shiny right. Scuffed left, shiny right. He wondered how his left boot had gotten into such a terrible condition when his right still looked so good.

"I'll have to fix that first chance I get."

“[If you don't leave, sir, I'll...]”

Left, right. Left, right. Keeble could have waited all day, but he didn't have to wait long at all. The dwife left the room and returned a moment later with a large, bald dwarf. Keeble recognized him from one of the pictures, though he had certainly aged since it had been done. He jumped up and shook the dwarf's hand, smiling.

“[Good morning, sir. I believe Tanya asked you to leave. If you don't leave right away...]”

"Me fix plane. Work good."

“[All our planes already work. Now if you could —]”

Keeble dug in his pocket and pulled out the money Colin and Mona had given him. "Me fix plane." He forced the notes into the dwarf's hand.

“[You want to pay me to let you fix a plane? What, are you kidding?]”

"Me watch. Learn. Fix plane."

“[Look, you'd need to pay me more than twenty three pounds to let you near one of my planes. All right?]” He put the money pack in the Keeble's hand and ushered him towards the door. Keeble thought of resisting for a moment, stating his case again, but he knew it would be useless. He'd have to try something else. Perhaps when they went home.

13: Tourist

Keeble watched as James tumbled from his stool and landed in a puddle of ale on the floor. A cheer went up from those still gathered.

"You lot can't hold your ale," Keeble said. Nobody understood him, but he thought they got the general idea. They all cheered again, and Keeble raised his glass to them before draining away the last of his drink.

He'd been drinking the stuff for almost three hours and couldn't feel the effects. All that money, and he might as well have been drinking water. He was just glad he hadn't paid for most of what he'd drunk. His own money had run out before he'd wet his palette, but the locals had taken pity on him, strange foreigner that he was, and kept his wheels lubricated for the rest of the evening. He'd drunk three of them under the table and was looking for a fourth.

Keeble had waited by the airport until night fell and the last cars pulled away from the parking area. Not long after that, just when he was preparing to go over the fence, he spotted a uniformed dwarf, much like the one who threw him from the train. The dwarf wandered lazy, random patrols with a big dog. He rattled doors and shone a light-stick in windows before moving on to do it all again. Keeble had decided it wasn't worth the risk and wandered away, disappointed and wondering what to do.

He'd walked along quiet back streets, turning left then right and left again, until finding a busy road and the bar. Since then he'd attempted to drown his sorrows with little luck.

"If only they could brew a decent ale."

Every tall dwarf he met was hardly a dwarf at all. They couldn't brew ale. They worked slowly, as if there were no more jobs to do when there were always more jobs. And they couldn’t explain the simplest piece of technology. Keeble was starting to have his suspicions.

While he waited for someone else to buy him a drink, he turned to watch the television. The little black box sat on a shelf behind the bar, offering up an array of pictures. For most of the night he'd watched dwarves chasing a ball around a rectangular field in a game of 'football', whatever that meant. Most of the rules eluded him, but those playing the game seemed to enjoy themselves, when they weren't lying on the ground squirming in pain. And the other patrons in the bar shouted themselves hoarse with every bit of action.

That had long since ended, replaced by two people sitting at a bench, apparently talking about other games of football. Or perhaps it was the same game, only in different colors. If they were different games they all looked much the same to Keeble.

Now, there was another dwarf and another desk. He was not talking about games though, Keeble quickly realized. He didn't seem any more serious than those talking about football, but the little short sections of action were all quite different. Some people at the top of a set of stairs, surround by other people. A dwife by a flooded river. A huge room with dozens of people sitting around talking. Keeble suspected that what he was watching was important, but since he couldn't understand much of what was being said, he might as well have been watching the football.

Then there were the big, black bats, shot down out of the sky, and suits of colorful armor split open, revealing what was inside. Except the bodies had already been removed and the suit was too far away to show much detail. Keeble wished the dwarves of this world could speak a real language. He tried to follow the voice on the television but gave up in disgust. Where was Meledrin when you needed her?

Keeble was just wondering how he might go about finding Meledrin and Kim when he saw them, up on the television. They were being hustled through a large crowd, away from a big ugly building with an eagle on top, and into a car.

He grabbed the arm of the nearest dwarf and pointed up at the screen.

"Where?" he asked.

The dwarf squinted upwards as if that might help clear his ale addled senses.

The barman answered first. “[That's the American Embassy, that is,]” he said as he polished a glass.

“[How do you know that?]” Keeble's barstool neighbor asked.

“[See that big eagle? Dead giveaway. And besides, the reporter just said that it's been unusually busy at the American Embassy today with lots of comings and goings.]”

“[Yeah? Who was coming and who was going?]”

“[Well, Ministers and the like," the barman said. “[Plus lots of others that nobody recognizes.]”

Keeble hadn't understood any of what had been said. "Where?"

“[American Embassy. Down in London somewhere.]”

"American Embassy?"

“[That's right.]”

"How?"

“[How do you get there? Don't know, really.]” The barman got a drink for someone down the other end of the bar. “[Train first, I suppose, then a cab.]”

A train then a cab, perhaps. "Pay?"

“[Yeah, course it'll cost you. Don't know how much, though.]” He continued to polish the glass as he watched the television. He added nothing more.

Keeble watched the screen as well, but it was already showing a different picture.

“[So, you want to go to the Embassy, do you?]” The dwarf sitting at the bar beside Keeble turned to look blearily at him. “[Here, I can give you... three pounds.]” He straightened out some of the paper money and carefully placed them on the bar where he flattened them out again. “[Has anyone else got some money so our short friend here can annoy some Americans?]”

“[What? Where's he going?]”

“[The American Embassy.]”

“[He isn't a yank, is he? Doesn't look like one.]” But the stranger pulled out some money as well and added it to the pile.

A third dwarf, one of the few remaining who was still sober, joined them. “[Do you have any idea how much he'll need?"

“[Nope. Where is the American Embassy?]”

“[Mayfair.]”

“[Mayfair? So how much will that cost then?]”

“[I don't know.]”

Keeble tried to follow the flow of the conversation without luck. All he knew was that another couple of men added money to the pile and he now had about ten pounds, if he had all the symbols right.

“[What has he got here?]” The sober fellow picked up the pile and counted. “[Thirteen quid.]” He added some more from his own pocket. “[Eighteen. Phil, put in for Keeble, will ya. He want's to go to the American Embassy.]”

A dwarf over in a corner, holding a glass in one hand and a dart in the other, turned to look. “[What's he a tourist, is he, or what?]”

“[I don't know. He wants to go to the Embassy though.]”

“[That's down in London. That'll cost about fifty pounds to get there.]”

“[Well, we've got eighteen.]”

Phil threw his dart at the board and went to the bar to add his own money to the pile. “[Little bugger's been drinking for free all night, and now we pay for him to get to London as well?]”

Keeble had no idea what was being said, so he sat silently and awaited the outcome. Up on the television, the people behind the desk had gone and another game was being shown. It was not football this time. The ball was a different shape and the players were allowed to use their hands. They were also allowed to stomp on each other's heads, apparently. Keeble couldn't understand the rules of this game either, but it seemed like a lot more fun than football.

The barman told him the game was rugby. Keeble continued to watch while the little pile of money in front of him continued to grow.

* * *

Keeble carefully placed the little piece of paper in his pocket with the remains of his money before sitting down. He made himself comfortable beside an old dwarf who looked like he'd been doing hard labor every day of his life. Keeble smiled and nodded. "Hello."

The other dwarf ignored him. Keeble sighed.

Outside the window, James, hardly able to keep his feet, waved. Keeble gave a slight nod in reply as the train pulled away from the station. Moments later, both James and the station were gone from sight and the train was rattling along a strip of darkness between the buildings of the city. Then, even they were gone and only occasional islands of light sang counter point for the stars.

Keeble checked the timekeeper on his wrist. The barman had found it in a 'lost property box' and said he could have it. At the station, when he was buying the ticket, James had explained that the train would arrive at a place called St Pancras Station when the little hand reached the seventh number if everything went well. Just less than two hours. With the dwarf by his side ignoring him, Keeble settled back and tried to get some sleep.

When he woke, the sun was up and a disembodied voice was telling the passengers that the train had arrived at St Pancras. At least Keeble thought that was what it said. He checked his timekeeper and it seemed about right, so he jumped to his feet and followed the rest of the crowd out onto the platform. He would have liked to stop there for a moment to get his bearings, but the rush carried him onwards and upwards. At a little gate, a dwarf stopped him and Keeble dutifully held up his little piece of paper like everyone else and was allowed to continue on.

Once out on the street, he finally found himself a quiet corner and stopped for a moment to think. He nervously wound his metal fingers in and out, in and out. An endless stream of dwarves went past, young and old, male and female.

He might well have stayed there all day, wedged into the cold brown stone of the corner, but a black cab rolled by, all but silent in the tumult. He grabbed the arm of the dwarf nearest him, a dwarf in a grey suit with a silken leash tied about his throat. The dwarf shook him off, glared angrily for a moment, and hurried on. Keeble tried a different tack.

"Hello," he said hopefully when he caught the eye of someone else.

The stranger hurried on.

"Hello."

The third stranger smiled thinly and nodded, switching a small black case from one hand to the other like a rugby player protecting the ball. "Hi."

"Cab?"

The stranger missed a step then came to a halt. “[You want a cab? They're over there.]” He switched the case back again and, leaning, pointed through the crowd. “[Around that corner there. It's not far. All right?]”

Before Keeble could answer, the dwarf had straightened and was on his way again. He glanced back once before he was lost in the crowd.

Keeble made his way in the direction indicated. Stopping at the edge of the street with everyone else, he watched for a break in the traffic. Then, inexplicably, the rumbling, metal stream suddenly stopped and the people surged across, carrying Keeble with them.

Around the corner was a long line of cars with signs on top. Keeble went to the black one at the front of the queue and climbed in the back seat.

"Hi there," the driver said, adjusting a little mirror so he could see Keeble in the back. “[Where to today, sir?]”

"American Embassy," Keeble said in reply, though he wasn't sure what the driver had asked. He also handed over a little square of cardboard the barman had written on.

“[Not a problem.]”

The driver talked continuously as he drove. Keeble listened, though he understood little and his attention was divided between the world outside and the little handle that rolled the beautiful glass window up and down, up and down.

“[You speak English?]” the driver asked after a while.

Up and down.

“[My wife is pregnant again. Haven't had much luck with the first one. Little terror she is, so we thought we'd try again.]”

Up and down.

It wasn't long before they arrived at their destination, the large building with an eagle mounted on the top. Masses of people were still crowded around the front as if they hadn't moved since the previous night when Keeble had seen them on television.

Keeble held out his money to the driver and let him take a few of the notes.

“[Don't mind if I take a little tip, do you? A few pence is all. Good.]”

Keeble stuffed the rest of the notes into his pocket as he climbed out of the cab and started pushing his way to the door of the building.

Eventually he found himself standing beside a low, wooden barrier. There were more guards standing there, serious looking dwarves in green uniforms. When he tried to shimmy through a gap in the barrier the men barred his way and started to look even more serious. For a moment Keeble thought of using a bit of force but quickly decided that the men looked like they knew a bit about the use of force themselves.

"Meledrin?" he said, hoping they recognized the name.

“[Sorry, sir, I don't understand.]”

"Meledrin and Kim?" He fluttered his hands in the air. "Big bats."

“[Sorry, Sir. Please step away from the barrier.]”

But the dwarf stopped when his nearest companion touched him on the shoulder. The second dwarf spoke into one of the talking boxes, and a moment later someone came quickly from the building.

Keeble was allowed to pass through, though this action was met with a round of boos from the gathered crowd. He waved merrily to them all and set off a multitude of flashing lights. He wanted to go back and see what had happened but didn't get the chance. He wondered if he was going to be on TV.

“[Hello, sir. I am Damien Roderick.]” He held out his hand.

Keeble held out his hand to be shaken.

“[I assume you're Keeble?]”

Keeble smiled and nodded. "Keeble. Yes."

“[I'm sure Meledrin will be surprised to see you, but not too pleased. And Kim will pleased and not too surprised.]”

Keeble shrugged and shook his head. "I didn't understand most of that."

The man shook his head in turn. “[Well, please, come in. The ladies aren't here. They stayed in a hotel last night and have gone to the airport this morning. I don't know if we can hold the plane, but I'm sure something can be arranged.]”

"Plane?"

“[You know about planes?]”

"Not really." Keeble shrugged. "But if I get a chance I will." He smiled and followed the man inside.

14: New Paths

Tuki's knee was swollen badly and throbbed in time with his heart. He had fallen two days after leaving Danyon Ford and run almost nonstop in the five days since. The knee hadn't had a chance to recover and was not likely to get the chance anytime soon.

He crouched in the shade at the edge of the village. It was the sixth in line from Danyon Ford. It was the one to which Keala, taking instructions from the 'book', had directed him.

After running so far, Tuki was surprised to find that his resolve was not as strong as he had previously thought. Keala said that the mo'min was the rightful holder of a skyglass. Did finding a skyglass make you the rightful holder?

He didn't know. And until he found one, it didn't really matter. He wore two cloth bags tied to his belt. One held his tattooing inks and needles in case he thought of something to put on the back of his hand, and the other was for carrying the 'glass back to Keala.

"What chance that I will find one anyway?" he said quietly.

It was unlikely any mo'min would have forgotten something as important as a skyglass when abandoning the village centuries earlier. He didn't think it was even worth the effort of looking. But what will happen if I return to Danyon Ford empty handed? It will take a month of extra duties for the mo'shi to be happy with my state of mind. But would his mind ever be tuned in to the well being of the village when all he could think of was Keala?

While he had crouched, the night had gathered like a wolf pack, silent but palpably watching. Tuki looked up at the sky, catching glimpses of stars and moons through the branches. He offered a silent prayer to the Mother Blower.

When the stillness continued undisturbed, Tuki shook his head and rose painfully to his feet. The memory of Keala's smile, the taste of her smile, pushed him forward. He moved as stealthily as his knee allowed, from one shadow to another, as if the creatures of the night might run back to Danyon Ford and report on his activities. As if he could hide from those creatures at all.

He skirted the main plaza and paused for a moment before the line of rubble that had once been the wall keeping the single moai from those that were married. His heart beat loudly in his chest, and he turned to look skywards again. The moons and stars continued their stately dance across the heavens.

With a deep, calming breath, he stepped into the northern half of the village, circled around the tumbled down remains of a building, and followed a wide, bare path towards the house where the mo'min had once lived.

Hardly any of the buildings were standing. Most were nothing more than a patch of broken stone flooring amidst the tangle of weeds. Even the glassblowing workshop, sturdiest of all buildings, had been reduced to a low-walled pool of wildflowers. Further back, separated from the rest of the village by a line of eight tall, straight trees, was the home of the mo'min.

"Under the floor, to the left of the fire," Tuki said softly as he crept through the remains of the doorway, stealthy as a thief.

I am not stealing anything. Nobody lives here. Nobody owns the skyglass. He didn't think he'd convince himself.

At the rear of the main room was a low hump, now covered with moss and lichen, that might have once been the fireplace. But the pavers to the left had been well laid, as was to be expected, and time had taken away any edges he might grip. Grass had locked silky tendrils into tiny cracks, but that was all. On the other side of the fire, a small tree had sent questing roots to crack apart the cobbles.

Tuki started there, levering up the first paver, digging his fingers down into the dirt and prizing it free. That allowed him to work the next one loose, and the one after that, until he had sixteen of them leading from one side of the room to the other.

He found nothing.

She said it was to the left of the fire. Tuki had no reason to disbelieve Keala. Why would she lie? So he lifted five pavers in another row, bloodying the tips of his fingers as he fought against the stones and the clinging grip of the earth. Then he disinterred another row, becoming more feverish with each fruitless effort.

After the fourth row, he sat back on his heels, sweat coating his brow, soil and blood turning to clay on his hands. He would have stopped there, but the thought of Keala's kiss set him to work again, tearing row after row of pavers from the ground.

Finally, as the third moon dipped out of sight to the west and darkness was almost complete, he pulled up a paver and revealed the edge of another flat stone beneath. He had another three pavers out in a moment to reveal the entire hidden stone. It was old and cracked, with a ring in the center like a handle.

"Oh." He wasn't sure that he wanted to go any further. For a while he stayed where he was, on his hands and knees, as if praying to Poti. The night drifted on around him.

"Keala."

With her in his thoughts, warm to the touch, Tuki reached out gingerly and lifted the stone clear. A small box was revealed with a skyglass within.

He had seen a skyglass previously, when he had attended the Mid-Summer Festival many years earlier, but to be so close, to see the stars reflected in the surface, was another thing entirely. It was about the size of a child's head, smooth and clear and gleaming. He reached forth and touched a shaking finger to the polished surface.

With that slight touch the glass started to change. Darkening, warming. Tuki recoiled in surprise, and in moments the skyglass was nothing more than a perfect glass ball.

Rising to his feet Tuki paced away from the hole. He turned at the remains of the fireplace and strode back again. "I should not be here," he said, looking down at the 'glass. He was prying into women's business, thinking that he could touch the very object that let the mo'min speak with the Mother Blower. "But Keala."

Tuki stooped down and, closing his eyes, took the skyglass in his hands, determined to hold on to it no matter what. When he was standing at his full height, he dared to open his eyes. The 'glass had come to life again, and it was as if he held the night sky in his hands. He had thought that words were needed, but apparently not.

In the center of the globe was a tiny blue dot with a square floating beside it. In the square was a line of numbers and another array of tiny symbols that surely meant something. Were they secret numbers that only the mo'min could know?

Around those were a multitude of stars. Tuki examined the patterns that he knew so well. "The Skeleton constellation," he said out loud, when the six familiar stars caught his eye.

Suddenly the globe was filled with the constellation. Beside each of the stars floated more boxes filled with numbers and symbols. Mikusa, the brightest star in the Skeleton constellation, was so close to Tuki's thumb that he almost thought he could touch it.

On a hunch, Tuki spoke again. "Kiva." His heart pounded.

The Skeleton constellation disappeared and was replaced by a blue half globe that could only be his home world. It took up only a small section on the side of the 'glass, leaving room to show the three moons, brothers of the sky. They were in exactly the right position. Mata and Ki'te were in conjunction. The third, tiny Rangi, was out on his own, almost touching the surface of the 'glass.

Tuki opened his mouth to speak the name of another star when something new appeared on the globe. One moment there was nothing, and the next a tiny point of yellow light appeared and flashed close to the planet.

Looking up, Tuki saw a shooting star staining the sky with its orange glow. His breath quickened. It was the same one he had seen on his pilgrimage, he was sure. And this time he knew it was true. The skyglass confirmed it.

The meteor passed across the night sky in front of him. He watched as it turned, changed direction, and flew away from him along the line of Dry River. Tuki gaped, watching the darkness after the comet had disappeared over the horizon.

When he thought to look at the 'glass he held in his hands, he discovered that the comet had stopped. He checked the sky again, but it wasn't there. In the 'glass it was accompanied by its own little square.

"What do I do?" Tuki asked, for obviously the shooting star was a message from Poti. How could it be anything but? Was he meant to follow it? Or was the message more cryptic than that? Would he need the mo'min to interpret it? He shook his head. If he needed the mo'min to tell him what it all meant, then he would never know, for he would not ask and nobody would believe him anyway. That just left his own interpretation, and Tuki was sure he was supposed to follow. He was supposed to go beyond the horizon, into the lands of man.

Tuki looked at the skyglass again, as if it might change and let him return to Danyon Ford and be married to Keala. But nothing changed. The yellow dot waited just around the curve of the world, and the three brothers progressed infinitesimally through their stately dance.

He rose to his feet and looked back along the River towards his home. Sighing, he turned to limp in the other direction, on the tail of the shooting star.

His hands were shaking, but the Mother Blower was calling him, and he could do naught but follow.

* * *

Tuki followed Dry River as it curved north into the hills. He woke with the sun each morning and walked or ran until it had long since sunk into the west, collecting food and water from between its banks as he went. He constantly glanced back over his shoulder, watching the desert grow behind him as the horizon retreated. It was a wonderful place, a universe all of its own, beautiful and vast and unknowable. Golden sand stretched for uncounted kilometers, broken by occasional islands of ancient stone. Poti was letting him see it all, but only as She led him away.

Dawn and noon and dusk he would stop to stare to the south, bowing deeply and thanking the Mother Blower for what She had given him, and for what She was about to give. Then he would walk and look back as he went, making sure he did not miss any detail as it materialized. It was his home, and each new addition to the vista increased his longing. He thought his heart would break when the time came to top the highest rise and the dunes behind would be lost from sight.

That was until he reached the top of the highest rise.

The day before, Dry River had spread out to fill a wide shallow valley and gone no further. Tuki had searched all morning but found only dry, rocky slopes beyond. With much trepidation he had continued on with only the Poti to guide him. All that afternoon and through the next day and the bulk of the next, he had walked or run, all the while waiting for the cooling trees of Dry River to come back to him.

The sun was leaning in over his shoulder as he trudged up what he thought was just another hill in a long line of hills. Each was rockier than the one before, each a little higher, but that was all. The novelty had quickly worn off, and it was just a slope he had to haul his aching legs up. The skyglass was an annoying weight in the sack at his belt. It thumped against his leg with every step until he thought he was ready to rip it away and hurl it back toward the desert. And his mouth was dry, for water had become hard to find.

When he truly thought he could stand it no more, when he was telling himself that the skyglass didn't really want to leave the desert, he topped that final hill that marked the edge of the world, and stopped to stare. Just ahead, the land dropped almost directly down, and a new world of color and life called for his attention.

To the left, a golden crop of grain waved to him, a million little hands moving in unison. To the right, thousands of trees beckoned him forward with ancient, nodding heads. He wanted to count them but, closer by, a field of wild flowers danced for him in scattered groups. In another spot a fallow field of rich brown waited to see if he might rather the cool, clean earth beneath his feet.

Tuki didn't know what he wanted. He stood in silence looking at it all. When the sun dipped its head below the horizon and darkness claimed the world, Tuki was still standing at the top of the hill, mouth open, eyes glazed and staring.

When he could move once more, Tuki reached into the pouch on his belt and brought forth the skyglass with shaking hands. Holding it up to the moonlight, he spoke the word that brought it to life. He had accidentally snuffed the lights a few days earlier and spent a day trying to find it again. Now, he spoke to the 'glass often, wanting to learn all that Poti was willing to teach, but he always returned to the same view in the end. Kiva.

The world was in the middle. Two of the brother moons were hanging close by, but Ki'te, which should have been around the other side of the world, was not displayed, as if the skyglass couldn't see it. Inside the orbit of the brothers was the meteor. The fact that it was completely still worried Tuki. He was not sure, but he felt that it should always be moving, like a toddler who would stumble if momentum were lost. But there were no women to tell him the ways of shooting stars, so all he could do was follow as the Mother Blower decreed.

Marking the direction in his mind, Tuki slipped the skyglass back into the pouch and started down the trail that led across the face of the cliff to the valley below.

With moonlight painting the world monochrome, he could concentrate on walking once he reached level ground. He skirted along the side of a gully, dodging between trees. He didn't stop to stare at each wonder the new world had to offer. Still, he looked left and right, and back over his shoulder as he went, watching here as a bird settled down to roost, there as a small furry creature twitched its whiskers at the night air.

It wasn't long before Tuki found what could only be a road. It was a trail wider than any he had ever seen, and rutted with the passing of many feet. He stopped, looking one way and then the next along this wonder, giving no thought to which direction he might choose, but simply following it with his eyes as it curved through the trees and grass.

Eventually he chose, following the road in the general direction of the meteor, where it hung over the horizon. He jogged all night and into the day, without growing tired of his surroundings. Each new type of tree was a marvel to him, each lizard, bird, and animal a wonder of creation. He stopped for more than an hour in the morning to watch a family of small animals scampering from tree to tree. When the sun was on high, he paused to listen to a chorus of blue-breasted birds.

It was not until fifteen days after he had found the skyglass, with the sun starting its slow descent, that he saw another person. The little boy, holding a curved, knobbly stick, stopped his game and stared. His skin was very pale compared to Tuki's, his hair white and straight.

"Hello," Tuki said.

The boy stared for a moment longer before turning to flee. His screams could be heard long after he had rounded the next bend in the road and was gone from sight.

Tuki looked at the place where he had last seen the boy, then shrugged and followed.

He went slowly along the road, around two bends, and found himself at the edge of a small, rough village. The child was standing in the street waiting for him, surrounded by what must have been every man from the region, or so it seemed to Tuki. The men were holding farming implements or rusting knives as long as their arms.

"Hello," Tuki said again, smiling at the men and nodding. No individual spoke in reply, but the group rumbled ominously. "My name is Tuki."

"Get away from here. We don't want no trolls here," a man at the front of the group shouted.

"Biggest damn troll I've ever seen," another muttered.

"Trolls?" Tuki looked about. He was right on the edge of the village. Trees crowded in on either side, but he could see no threat there. The town itself was as still as death.

"Go." The man who spoke waved a rake, jabbing it at the air.

"What is a troll?" Tuki examined his surroundings again and took a step towards the protection of the buildings. The group of men took a step forward to meet him. Then another.

Almost too late, Tuki realized that they were threatening him. He stepped back quickly, raising his hands.

Before he could say anything the villagers surged forward. He turned and fled back the way he had come.

A kilometer from the village the men had fallen behind and could not be seen. Their shouts were ragged and sparse. Around the next bend, Tuki turned away from the road and jogged along a twisting game trail, calming his racing heart and trying to decide what had happened.

Why would they threaten me? I did nothing to them.

Try though he might to find an answer, Tuki was left to wonder. Trolls were not to be trusted, perhaps, but he was not a troll.

He licked his lips and looked fearfully around. He wiped sweat from his face with a shaking hand and walked quickly up the hill.

It wasn't long before the path started to curve back towards the desert, and Tuki was forced to abandon it. He rested, leaning against a tall, rough barked tree, ever fearful of being found.

When darkness descended, he was jogging slowly again, cutting across the slope in a generally northerly direction. He still knew nothing more than he had earlier. The humans had threatened him for no reason.

"Maybe they were sick!" Tuki had heard of a sickness that made people behave irrationally. Keala said that men often suffered from such an affliction, but he never thought to see such a thing.

The forest didn't seem as welcoming and wonderful as it had been earlier. Dark shapes loomed, shadows offered hiding places for any number of unknown creatures. And trolls as well, for all Tuki knew. He found himself searching the darkness for wild animals and humans, expecting either one to leap into view with every half-heard sound.

He slept for a while, but every sound disturbed him. So he was walking again well before the Mother Blower rose. He tracked the position of the meteor in his mind as the trails he followed wandered lazy courses. He counted his steps so he wouldn't think of other things. He passed a cabin after the sun had set once more, creeping around the edge of the clearing it occupied and quickly picking up the trail again on the other side. He was so nervous that he lost his count and had to start again.

He moved silently among the trees, adjusting his rhythm to the dipping and rising of the trail as he had never had to do in the desert. Counting each step.

Before the first touch of dawn stained the eastern horizon, Tuki paused, listening to a new sound that had intruded on his thoughts of humans and shooting stars. It was a drumming above his head, as if an army of invisible creatures ran across the tops of the trees. He cocked his head, then jumped slightly as water dripped down from above to land among the tattooed ants on his arm.

He stood where he was for several moments, listening and watching as more and more drops splashed around him. All those tiny footsteps?

Is that the sound of water striking the leaves? It can't be!

Tuki searched the semidarkness for somewhere to hide, somewhere to get away from all of the water. He found nowhere, so he started to run.

He didn't know where he was running. After he started to move through the trees, with the water falling quicker every moment, he didn't stop to look for shelter. He simply ran, clutching the skyglass sack in his shaking hand.

After a lifetime of running through the trees, Tuki suddenly broke out into the open and felt the full force of the falling water. The Mother Blower was angry and was wasting all the water the humans would need. It stung his bare skin, pummeling him like pelted stones. Over his head, he could see no stars, nor either of the two brothers who should have been riding high in the sky. The Goddess had closed Her eyes, and now nobody could see.

Tuki ran again, following the path as it crossed the clearing and plunged back under the trees. The protection of the canopy lessened the force of the blows, but still he could hear the Goddess' footsteps as She chased him onwards. And under the trees he was all but blind.

He tripped on a protruding root, splashing down into a pile of mud. He was covered in the cool, sodden mess though he scrambled to his feet instantly and was running again. Moments later the path dipped down through a gully, and he was splashing through an ankle-deep torrent. He gasped at the touch of the water and sprang up and out the other side. He tripped again, rounding another bend as he started to climb. Lying on the ground, water running from his dark curly hair, dripping from the end of his nose, leaving cold tracks across his skin, he saw a huge fallen tree with a sheltered space underneath.

With a sob of despair, he wiped the water from his face and hurried away from the path and into the small dry alcove.

15: Lessons Learned

Kim tried to ignore Meledrin but found she was reading the same paragraph over and over again without having any idea what it said.

"Why will they not tell us the reason for the delay?" Meledrin asked, glaring at the man behind them as if that might make a difference. Kim was pleased to see that the man ignored the elf, not even looking up from the highlighted file he was reading. It was possible he hadn't even heard.

Kim shook her head. "Does it matter?" After spending a couple of years travelling around the world, she was used to all sorts of delays. Normally, when left in peace, the waiting didn't worry her. With Meledrin constantly bringing it to her attention, time seemed to drag.

They were sitting in the main cabin of the plane with about a dozen serious men in serious suits. There were as many empty seats again, all facing a large, flat screen television hanging on the wall. At the rear of the cabin things were arranged in a less formal manner. A horseshoe of chairs around a low table, a desk, and a small bar stocked with all manner of drinks.

"Do you think the giant bats are blocking our route?"

Kim gave up and put the book away. "Maybe." It wouldn't have been surprising.

They'd been sitting on the US Air Force Boeing for an hour, though they'd been told they'd be taking off immediately. Kim wasn't particularly worried. She knew there were thousands of things that could be affecting their take off without having anything to do with them. Meledrin wouldn't understand the vast number of people, places, and variables involved. And there was a war on, for Christ's sake.

But in the end, it was about them. Kim was just getting serious about ignoring the elf, having started a conversation with a stony faced man in a grey suit, when someone escorted Keeble into the cabin.

The dwarf looked around excitedly and seemed to want to go everywhere at once so he wouldn't miss a single detail. It took him a moment to shift his focus from the location to the people in it. He had a sneer for Meledrin and a smile and a wave for Kim.

"Hello, Keeb'," Kim said. She smiled back.

"Hello." Keeble looked at the seat his escort motioned him towards, then went and took a different one by a window. He allowed himself to be strapped in. "Plane," he said, nodding.

They were moving before everyone else was seated, rolling towards the runway. Keeble strained to see out the window, pressing his face against the glass and muttering to himself. Kim divided her gaze between the elf and dwarf as they started to pick up speed and finally left the ground.

Keeble was smiling like a boy with a new bike, and Kim could almost see the thoughts darting though his head as he tried to see everything at once and work it all out. Meledrin, on the other hand, took one look out the window then stared resolutely forward. Only her hands, gripping the armrests with white-knuckled intensity, showed that she was feeling anything at all.

When, a short while after takeoff, one of the CIA officers rose to his feet and went to get a drink, Keeble quickly unbuckled his own belt and raced to a window that gave a better view of the wing.

There were three fighters flying escort not far away.

"How work?" Keeble asked in horrible English as he grabbed the arm of the closest man. "How work?"

"How does what work?"

"Plane? How work?"

The man glanced at someone else for a moment and received the permission he apparently didn't really want. "Well, the top of a wing is more curved than the bottom, so when air moves past the wing —"

"You do know," Kim said, interrupting the man, "that he doesn't really speak English."

"Oh. Then how do I explain?"

"Try drawing a picture. I think he might understand that better than anything. And Meledrin can translate any bits he doesn't understand."

"Why don't you explain?" But he rose to his feet and motioned for Keeble to follow him to the other end of the cabin. Keeble sat down near the low table while the man collected paper and pen from the desk.

"Coffee?" Keeble asked, pointing to a jar on a shelf.

"You want coffee?"

"Yes, please." The dwarf licked his lips and stared at the jar.

The man sighed but made two cups of coffee.

A few minutes later Keeble and the American were both hunched over the paper as the man drew a rough, profile sketch of a wing. Other men and women wandered over to help or just to watch. The conversation quickly moved from wings to other subjects.

"What are we going to be doing, exactly?" Kim asked when Special Agent Tim O'Donnell, the baby-faced man in charge, broke away from the group gathered around the table. He got himself a scotch before crossing to sit by her side.

"Sorry, I don't know."

"You don't know or you 'don't know'?"

"I really don't know."

"Ah."

"I'm just your escort. And the only reason I have the job is because I happen to be going your way."

"And everyone else?"

"We were part of a task force working with the British trying to contact the alien mother ships."

"There's more than one mother ship?"

"This is all top secret stuff, you understand. If you tell anyone I'll have to kill you."

He said it with a smile, but Kim had the horrible suspicion he was serious. "I doubt I'll be left unguarded from now until the war ends, so who would I tell?" Her reply was delivered with a smile as well, but she had the horrible suspicion that she would find that she was telling the truth.

"Well, there appear to be lots of mother ships, actually." He took a sip of his drink and settled back. "The trouble is, they hardly show up on any of our tracking equipment. There are blobs that may well be one ship or ten."

"So you don't know how many there are? Or how big they are? Or how many of the black bats they each hold? Or how many of the armored monsters?"

"No, to all of those. We can see the ships with telescopes — hell you can see them with an ordinary old pair of binoculars — but they move too much and too quick for us get an accurate count, and without knowing exactly how far away they are, we can't tell how big they are. We're pretty sure they're huge. A few hundred meters long, some of them. How about that? And, as I said, they're quick. There are maybe as many as two hundred of them. We do know for sure that there's normally about forty of the aliens on each bat."

"And how do they get out of orbit? Or back into it, if they even do? The bats are such impossible vehicles."

O'Donnell laughed. "Tell us about it. It took a long time for us to work them out. They do it with a combination of two things." He loosened his tie. "First, antigravity. The aliens have devised a mechanical means of making the bats lighter. That allows them to fly despite the burden of the life support capsules. It also allows them to fly well into the thermosphere. Up to about 300 kilometers. We aren't sure if it's the temperature, the atmosphere, or gravity that stops them going higher. Or maybe the bats just get tired. Anyway, when they reach their limit the mother ships dip down closer to the planet and grab the bats with long tentacles."

"Tentacles?"

"Yes. We think. We think the ships are alive. Creatures that live in space."

"Is that likely?"

"Is any of this likely?"

"Perhaps not."

"And those laser weapon thingies?"

"How do you know about those?"

"I have my sources." Kim smiled. "They haven't told you about how I hooked up with Meledrin and Keeble?"

"No. And hold back payment to that source. The weapons are more like a combination particle beam and Taser."

"Uh huh."

"What they do is align a path of particles in the air then fire a bolt of electricity along the path. I don't understand much more about it than that, but we've had people working on similar stuff for years. Now they're close to getting it figured out."

"Well, don't talk too loud. Keeble might overhear and go out the back to make one for himself."

"Yes, he's amazing, really. I think he's already suggested a couple of things to the flyboys that will jump them forward a couple of decades. He seems to see things once someone's given him a push in the right direction."

The flight from London direct to Washington DC took 10 hours. In that time every one of the CIA men, plus several of the flight crew, were involved in discussions with Keeble. Somewhere along the way, the subjects veered away from aeronautics into magnetics, and construction, and computers, and a dozen other things. Keeble had an insatiable appetite and seemed to soak up everything, no matter what language it was in. Meledrin did her best to translate, perhaps welcoming the opportunity to think about something other than the distance she was from the ground, but over and over again she was saying that there were no words to say what needed to be said. A computer? Fiber optics? The words were easy to say in most instances, but how do you describe what they mean? A machine that adds. A rope that light travels along.

Often, the questions Keeble asked had the men scratching their heads, arguing with each other, or looking slightly dazed. Sometimes all three at once. Most of the men were merely dilettantes, and it would take a real expert to keep up.

* * *

Arriving in Washington DC, Kim stretched and yawned. She'd finished her book earlier and drifted to sleep with Keeble's excited voice in her head, asking question after question.

He'd stopped for a few minutes when half a dozen bats attacked their plane. But the three jets escorting them made short work of the slow, ungainly creatures. It had all been over in minutes. Before the remains had splashed into the Atlantic, Keeble had been asking questions again.

When they started their descent, he'd found a seat by a window and stared out like a little boy. He swung his feet, wound the gears on his hand, and muttered under his breath.

When the plane taxied slowly to a spot that was almost a kilometer from the terminal, the dwarf was the first out the door and down onto the tarmac. He ran to stand beneath an engine as if he could discover how it worked from that alone. Kim wasn't so thrilled. From the top of the stairs she could see another plane waiting for them, not a limousine, or even a jeep. She grunted in disgust.

"What's the matter?" O'Donnell asked, straightening his tie as he waited for Kim to continue forward.

"I was hoping we were here."

"I'm here." The agent smiled and nudged her forward.

"Yes, but I'm sure another escort for Keeble, Meledrin, and I will be along in a moment. Or perhaps they're already on the plane."

"They are. I'll walk you to the door though, of course."

"Of course, gentleman that you are."

O'Donnell laughed. Kim liked him. He'd given out more information than expected and chatted for much of the trip.

The second plane was a Lear jet. The escort was made up of Air Force personnel. They mostly wore uniforms, though they did have the same serious expressions as the CIA. Keeble grabbed the first available window seat, ignoring the new men. Meledrin took the first seat on the aisle. Kim just dumped her pack and took the first one she came to. She had no idea where they were going, and hardly cared. The men on the plane, obviously just an escort of convenience like the last lot, watched them as if they were criminals. Kim wondered if perhaps they were, for more reasons than matters of security. Or perhaps people who worked for the United States government were trained to look that way. As she buckled up her belt, she thought that IRS agents probably went around with the same look.

They were airborne in ten minutes and heading west.

"I don't suppose there's a shower on this plane?" Kim asked as soon as the seat belt light went out.

The nearest man looked up from his book and pointed towards the rear of the plane. Kim smiled.

16: Messages

Tuki sat with the skyglass on his lap, staring beyond the polished surface as if concentration alone could change the message he read within. He'd been looking for a long time. There had been one meteor before, now there were five. They hadn't moved for a while. Seeing the skyglass didn't seem to show anything of the far side of the world, there may have been more there too.

One was right above his location.

That location was on the edge of a clearing halfway down a steep-backed hill. Tuki had topped the rise midmorning and started back down. It wasn't until he entered the clearing, with the uninterrupted view it offered, that he'd seen the human city. If not for that, he would have been right down in the base of the valley and beside the first of the buildings before he realized. As it was, he was closer than he liked.

The city was huge. He had been amazed by the earlier settlement, but the place before him was all but unbelievable. He counted eight hundred and eighty six buildings. One towered above the others, and Tuki wondered if the spire was to assist with the study of the stars.

Humans were everywhere. In a large square on the edge of the city, they dipped beneath cultured awnings and tents like butterflies into flowers. They danced their dance, unaware of the message the Mother Blower was trying to pass on.

The yellow dots in the skyglass hadn't moved.

He wished he could go somewhere else. He wanted to climb back into the mountains and return to the desert. He could follow one of the other meteors shown by the 'glass but he may just go all that way to find himself in the same situation. And Poti had directed him here. He was supposed to go down into the city and talk to the humans of this city first.

But the last humans Tuki had seen tried to hurt him.

With a sigh, Tuki rose and started down the hill. He did not know what the Mother Blower was going to say, either, but maybe he had more chance of finding out than the humans. He had always been told, and had always believed, that Poti was infallible, but surely She had chosen the wrong person for this mission.

"Keala should be here," Tuki said to the skyglass. "Or any of the women."

If he didn't understand anything, how was he to explain it to others? And why would they listen to him, a go'gan? Even the men would laugh, surely. He couldn't help but laugh himself, a go'gan passing on the message of the Mother Blower. He fell silent when he tried to imagine how the women would react to his preaching.

The Goddess had chosen him, though, perhaps as a chance to make up for some past indiscretion, or to test if he truly was worthy of marrying someone as special as Keala.

So he would prove himself the best man in Danyon Ford. He would prove to the women who had laughed at him that the Goddess had spoken and he had listened. He slipped the skyglass into the pouch at his belt and marched down the hill. Examining the new meteor tattoo on the back of his hand, he wondered if he should have drawn it on his face.

The first human he saw was sitting on the back of a shaggy, four-legged beast. His feet were swinging just above the ground. Possessions were slung in sacks across the beast's back. Tuki did not even have the chance to offer a greeting. The man got his feet onto solid ground and fled back the way he had come, leaving the beast standing on the road looking bemused and twitching its long ears.

Tuki knew how both beast and man felt, but he forced his steps onwards. The beast watched him go.

Half a kilometer later, Tuki rounded a bend and looked down a long stretch of road toward the city. He could see lots of people there, milling about. He slowed his pace as the trees thinned and offered him an ever-wider view. There were dozens of wooden-railed yards filled with beasts larger even than the one he had left standing on the road. They surged around, much like the people, as if hearing that there was much to fear but not knowing exactly what the danger was, or what to do about it.

As Tuki drew nearer, the people — if not the animals — seemed to come to a decision. Some went one way, some went the other, but it all seemed to be with a purpose. One man stayed exactly where he was, a monolith in the shifting sands about him. He was still standing and watching when Tuki came to a stop.

"You are not wanted here," the man said, his hand resting on the hilt of a long, curved knife. His accent was strange to Tuki's ears, rugged and clipped, but understandable.

Tuki bowed deeply. He did not know the man's title, could not begin to guess, but the footprints of years traversed his features and the steel in his voice was tempered by authority. "Go'shin," Tuki said after an agonizing moment, praying he would not offend. "Why am I not wanted?"

"Why?" He gave a bark of laughter. "Why are trolls ever not wanted? Leave now, or suffer the consequences." His voice was sure and steady, but he checked back over his shoulder. The crowd was surging and muttering. Those at the front were struggling to hold their ground against the press behind.

"But, go'shin, I have been sent by the Mother Blower to speak with your mo'min." Was he supposed to speak with the mo'min? Tuki had been told no such thing.

"Well, troll, the mo'min doesn't want to talk with you." Some of the tension leaked from the man's face when he saw others, dressed similarly to himself, pushing their way through the crowd, cursing and shouting and using force when people in the mob did not move quickly enough for their liking.

Tuki moved nervously from foot to foot. "Go'shin, perhaps if you were to ask."

"I'm Kuwisa, Keyman of the Payota City Guard, and I have all the authority needed to send the likes of you on your way." He drew his long knife and stepped forward.

There were now a dozen men standing between the Keyman and the main crowd. They were all dressed in brown breeches and striped, tasseled shirts. Long knives were gripped in their hands. They all stepped forward as well.

"Go, troll. You can't win here, not even you."

Someone from the mob shouted: "If you don't think he can win, Keyman, what are you waiting for?"

This comment was greeted with peels of laughter. Keyman Kuwisa didn't look around, but Tuki saw the look of anger cross his face. Kuwisa stepped forward again. "Last warning, troll. Go, and don't bother us again."

"I am not a troll."

But the Keyman was not listening. He raced forward, knife raised. The other knife wielding men came behind. Tuki turned and ran.

Panicking, he saw that he wasn't moving toward the freedom of the hills. His hasty retreat had taken him among the animal pens, between the high timber fences. The beasts bawled at him and stampeded. They kicked up dust and fear.

Tuki dodged and turned. Left and right. Right and left. Past this turning, through that intersection. Sweat trickled down his face, wasting valuable water. The skyglass thumped against his leg. He didn't know where he went. He didn't look up. He didn't look behind for fear that his pursuers would be right there. His heart raced, stampeding with the beasts.

Tuki didn't know how long he ran. It felt like he'd been all night in the desert.

Suddenly he was out in the open again. The dust under his sandals turned to neat, square cobbles. The wooden fences on left and right changed to people.

Tuki stopped.

The people were staring at him.

Tuki's heart raced faster but everything else seemed to slow down. The people were motionless, like startled birds caught balancing on the edge of flight. Then a shout went up. The mob rushed forward.

Tuki turned to run, but they were behind him as well. He could do nothing. When the first man buckled his knees with a solid kick, he tumbled to the ground. With the cool stone against his side, he curled into a ball around the skyglass and screamed.

Tears streamed down his face. The blows continued to fall, boots and fists, savage shouts hurled like stones. Pain blossomed. Tuki covered his face with his arms and prayed for assistance. He curled himself even tighter.

And screamed and screamed.

After a lifetime of pain, Tuki was shocked when it suddenly stopped. He stayed where he was, eyes closed, the cool stones anchoring him to consciousness. He waited for the next blow, the final one that would push him over the edge, and wondered why had the Mother Blower abandoned him? Why had she even sent him here in the first place?

Eventually, a voice reached through the haze.

"Step away. Go on. Away with you."

Mutters and curses greeted the commands, but sunlight suddenly struck Tuki. The Mother Blower's gaze was as painful as any blow. He had failed her in some way, he was sure.

"Move back you fools."

Tuki felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched again, curled tighter. But the hand didn't hurt. It rested against his burning skin.

"Keyman, get control of this mob, for Anas's sake."

"Why, Sha Yukima? The troll is getting nothing less than he deserves."

"I'm not sure he is a troll, Keyman. And what he deserves, either way, is to be treated as a man."

"Not a troll? Who do you think you're kidding, Sha? Look at him."

"I am looking. And what I see is a large man who was passively taking a beating from unarmed commoners. How many trolls have you met that would do that?"

"He's a troll. No other men are that big."

"No men you have met, perhaps, Keyman. But I believe this lad is a moai."

"Never heard of them."

"The moai are men of legend. They are huge it is said, larger than a troll, and come from the desert."

Tuki opened his eyes. Keyman Kuwisa was standing over him, the huge knife still drawn. The other man, far older, was crouching down, a worried expression creasing his gaunt features. He had a long plaited beard and a hat decorated with a long white feather.

"So are they legends, Sha Yukima? Or are they real?" The Keyman's voice clearly held his disdain for all to hear.

Tuki moved his hand to touch at the Moon Gate tattooed on his chest, as if that might keep him safe from the Keyman's anger or let him enter Heaven if all else failed.

"How am I to know, Keyman?" Yukima said. "I am a priest, not a historian."

"Priest or historian, both know the danger of trolls."

"Yes, and I know the danger of this lad," Sha Yukima retorted.

The two men stared at each other.

The Keyman grunted. "Well, what are we going to do then?"

"The lad has made no threats, he was doing nothing wrong. All he has done is come to Payota on market day along with hundreds more of Anas's sons."

"I can not let him roam the streets."

"Roam the streets? You think he is capable of roaming anywhere?"

"If he was a troll —"

"If he was a troll we would not be having this conversation. Correct?"

The Keyman grunted once more and Tuki watched, slightly fearful, as Sha Yukima rose to his feet. But the man was not leaving him. He dusted off his long blue robes as he looked around.

"Get some of your men to find a wagon. We will take him to the Municipy."

"If we must."

For several minutes, men rushed about, clearing a path through the crowd and bringing up what was apparently a wagon. Tuki, still curled in a ball, examined it closely as two shaggy, large-eared animals like the one he had seen on the road brought it to a stop by his side.

"Are you able to stand, lad?"

Tuki turned for a moment to look at Sha Yukima, then back at the wagon. The movement made his head pound. His neck ached terribly.

"Perhaps he's stupid," Keyman Kuwisa suggested.

Sha Yukima crouched back by his side. "We just want to get you into the wagon. Are you able to stand?"

"In there?" Tuki asked.

"Yes. We want to take you to some place safe. It would be easiest for you in the wagon. We can take you somewhere out of the sun, where it is cooler."

"I don't mind the sun," Tuki said softly, looking up to the sky to confirm that the Mother Blower was still at work, that she had not really deserted him.

"Of course you don't. You are from the desert, aren't you?" Yukima smiled some more. "Well, how about some food and water? You must be hungry."

"A little. Yes." Tuki slowly uncurled and sat up. Each movement brought screams of pain from his limbs. He glanced over his shoulder. People still surrounded him, but were apparently not going to attack again.

A few painful moments later, Tuki had climbed awkwardly to his feet. His left knee hardly supported his weight as he limped to the back of the wagon. His shoulder grated when he tried to climb up onto the wooden planks. He looked around from his new vantage and saw hundreds of people watching him.

The uniformed men moved in to form a cordon around the wagon, and the animal handler spoke an order. The parade started to move slowly along the road into the city. The priest sat on the boards beside Tuki, legs dangling over the side.

"What is your name, lad?"

"Tuki." Tuki was dividing his glance between the rumbling progress of the wagon and the brightly painted, conical roofed buildings along the way. Most had doorways decorated with feathers and fetishes, weavings and painted balls.

"I'm Sha Yukima. Sha is my title. I'm a priest, a man who talks with God."

Tuki smiled at the ludicrous thought; a man who talks with God. But the smile slipped from his face, and he touched the skyglass through the cloth of his waist-sack.

"I am a go'gan, Sha."

"And what is that? What are your duties?"

"A go'gan is a man for whom the Mother Blower has not yet chosen a wife." Tuki paused for a moment, thinking of Keala. She would be waiting for him to take the skyglass back to Danyon Ford. "My duties are to do what I am told."

"What do your tattoos mean? Do they tell a story?"

Tuki shook his head. "They each mean something on their own. This is the Moon Gate. It is the gate to the stars, to where the Mother Blower watches over us." As he spoke, he watched the circular pieces of timber that the wagon moved on.

"And the leaves?" Yukima asked.

"They are leaves from the Tree of Life. Each branch on the Tree is a universe, each leaf is a world that grows with the Mother's warmth."

The old man was nodding but said nothing. Tuki was going to continue explaining the meaning of his tattoos but asked about the circular timber instead.

"What are these called, Sha?"

"They are wheels." Sha Yukima smiled. "You've never seen wheels? I suppose there's not much use for wheels in the desert."

"And the animals?"

"The animals that pull the wagon are called donkeys."

"Donkeys?" Tuki wiped at his chin and brought his hand away covered in blood. His jaw ached terribly.

"I'm sorry. Here." The priest pulled a frilly white cloth from his sleeve and handed it to Tuki. "One donkey, many donkeys. How old are you, Tuki?"

"I have seen nineteen New Year Festivals."

Sha Yukima nodded his head slowly. "Why are you here?"

"I said, Sha. I am here to bring the words of the Mother Blower." He wiped at his chin, and then held the cloth against the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, I know you said that, but you were not sent by your leader?"

Tuki lowered his head, glancing at the meteor on his hand. Sha Yukima was a smart man. "No, Sha. The mo'min did not send me. Poti Herself did."

"Poti is your Goddess? She told you to come and spread Her word?"

Tuki shrugged, embarrassed. "Perhaps. She told me to come here, to your city, but I do not know why."

As they went further into the city, noisy crowds gathered. People hung from windows, or looked down from high balconies. They lined the streets, muttering under their breath and staring hatred. All the people. It was more people than Tuki had seen before.

"So many people, Sha."

Sha Yukima laughed. "About three thousand people live in Payota, Tuki. But it is market day today, so people have come from all about."

There were as many men as women in the crowd, and they were the more vocal by far.

"Do the women allow men positions of power in your city, Sha?"

The priest laughed. "Something like that, Tuki. Something like that."

Tuki didn't know what to make of that. "I would like to talk to your mo'min," he said.

"Don't worry, we are on our way to meet with the city's leaders."

"Thank you."

Even more people had gathered at a spot where the road divided. There was a long narrow stretch of parkland down the middle where people stood and shouted and pumped their fists in the air. They kept moving so Tuki couldn't count them properly. One of them, a man with hair on his face, stooped to a wooden pail by his feet as Tuki and his entourage passed by. When he straightened he had a tomato in each hand. Tuki watched, unable to do anything, as the stranger hurled the fruit his way. The first piece struck his shoulder and the second sailed past his head and landed in the crowd beyond. Then more fruit came, and more, until it seemed to fall out of the sky like the water had.

Tuki ducked his head and tried to ignore everything. Much of the fruit was rotten, but it would not harm him as the fists and feet had earlier. Though it was such a waste. He wondered if he should collect the better missiles to take back to the desert.

The uniformed men about him shouted at the crowd. Sha Yukima held up his hand to try to forestall further action. But it was all to no avail. Within moments, the whole group was dripping with the remains of fruit and vegetables as they moved forward at the donkeys' slow, steady pace.

Eventually, the wagon stopped in front of a squat, stone building that was so large it had two cone roofs. A mass of clamoring humans pushed in from every side, shouting abuse and threats. As Tuki gingerly hopped to the ground, they surged forward. Keyman Kuwisa and his patrol held them back, but Tuki wasn't sure if they were protecting him, or themselves.

The Keyman cleared a path so they could reach the entrance of the building.

Inside was another crowd. This one was quite a bit smaller, but it seemed almost as loud. They finally fell silent when they realized Tuki and his escort had arrived. Within moments only the noise of the crowd outside could be heard.

Sha Yukima cleared his throat and spoke. "This young man is Tuki. He has agreed to stay here until we can work out what we are going to do."

Tuki touched at his lip to be sure that it was not still bleeding, then scrunched the bloodstained cloth into a ball and stood with his head bowed.

"A troll has agreed to stay here?" The man who spoke seemed older than the others. His facial hair was mostly grey, and his hair was receding like a forest giving in to an encroaching desert.

"I do not believe that Tuki is a troll, Nasinwa. I think he may be a moai, come from the desert to visit with us."

"A moai?" The man named Nasinwa laughed and Tuki noticed others hurrying to join in. "The moai are from children's stories, Sha Yukima. You don't expect us to believe in them do you?"

"Yes, I do."

The laughter stopped.

"What makes you think he is a troll?" Sha Yukima asked.

"Well, look at the size of him," Nasinwa said.

Yukima nodded. "I've never seen a troll that big. Have you? But I have seen many men the size of trolls. Men like you or I. Men like the one you have tending to your garden every week, Councilor. We do not stone him because he is the size of a troll, do we?"

Tuki was stunned. Nasinwa was on some sort of council? What women would allow such a thing? Tuki was uncomfortable and wondered about his decision to place himself in the care of these men. He needed to speak with one of the women so he could tell his story. Surely the women would know of the existence of his people.

"My gardener is obviously not a troll," Nasinwa said.

Sha Yukima raised one eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"You would never meet a gentler man. And he is intelligent, with knowledge of more than death and destruction, that is."

Sha Yukima grunted and shook his head. "And Tuki here is obviously such a violent fellow. We could hardly control him on the way here. He was throwing fruit at all of those meek, intelligent humans crowding along the sides of the road. And he attacked them back in the markets."

The Councilor sneered. "Lock him in the most secure cell, Keyman. And have him guarded at all times."

Sha Yukima shook his head and sighed. "If you will excuse me, I'm going to get cleaned up. Perhaps you would like to join me, Tuki."

"I said, lock him up."

"Kuwisa and his men can watch while we cleanse ourselves and I take a moment to tend to his wounds. The bathing room is quite secure enough. I don't think Tuki will fit through the window."

The Councilor shook his head but relented a moment later with small grace. "Very well. Just don't be all day about it."

"Thank you, Councilor Nasinwa," Tuki said with a slight bow of his head. "Thank you, Sha."

He ducked through a door behind the priest and followed him to a small room with a washtub. The tub was filled to overflowing with clear water.

"All this water," Tuki said, still standing in the doorway. But in the lands of man, water fell from the sky; he shouldn't have been surprised. "It is strange that Poti led me here."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you are so different from the moai. It is a surprise that we even speak the same language. How are we to tell each other anything at all?"

"And if we were the same, would it be worth saying anything?" Sha Yukima washed his hands and splashed water over his face, letting precious drops fall to the floor. "I can speak to my neighbor any day, Tuki."

"Perhaps, but do you?"

The priest finished washing in silence. The rumble of the crowd could still be heard out the window.

Tuki hoped he had not offended.

When Yukima stepped aside, Tuki stepped forward reverently, to take his turn at the trough.

A few minutes later Tuki smiled like a go'gan after his first Seeing. He was totally unconcerned about the water he was wasting, splashing it onto his face, watching as it ran along the joins in the floor tiles, flicking it from his fingers and examining the patterns it created on the walls. He tried to wash his robe and met with some success. He also filled his water bottle.

Tuki smiled at Sha Yukima a few minutes later, watching him bring forth a small sack filled with salves and ointments and elixirs.

The old man spoke while he started to work. "So how, exactly, did the Mother Blower lead you here?"

Tuki was caught in a moment of indecision. Three of Keyman Kuwisa's men were crowded about the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Should they, mere men, be allowed to see the skyglass? Should Sha Yukima really be allowed to see it, religious man though he apparently was? But there were no women present, and he needed help in this strange world.

"I will show you." Tuki said. He pulled the skyglass out of the pouch and held it up for the other man to see. The world of Kiva was shown in great detail. "See the blue dot? That is us."

"That is our world? Amazing. I have seen globes before but not like that. And we are the blue dot, you say?"

"Yes."

"And who painted the blue dot on there? Was it the Goddess?"

"It must be. The blue dot follows the skyglass everywhere."

"The dot moves?"

"Yes, I came from down here, and the dot followed me. And you see the yellow dots?" There were still five in the air above the blue dot. Others were still spaced randomly around the part of the world the 'glass showed.

"Of course."

"Well, I followed one of them here."

"What do they represent?"

"Meteors," Tuki said.

"Pardon?"

"A shooting star."

"Yes. Yes, there was a shooting star a couple of days past, right above the city. But do shooting stars normally," He wiggled his fingers towards the yellow dot, "do they normally stop like that?"

"I am sorry, I do not know. Perhaps they are up in the sky all the time but we cannot see them unless they are moving. The mo'min would know for sure."

"Perhaps, but that seems awfully strange. And the shooting star from the other day was so much brighter than any I have ever seen. I almost felt that I could reach out and touch it."

"I know. When I first saw, it I was very surprised." Tuki fell silent as more shooting stars appeared in the globe. Then more still. Soon, there were a dozen yellow dots right above Payota and dozens more all around the world.

"What's happening?"

"I do not know." They watched silently. After a little while, Tuki started to count the yellow spots. Occasionally he looked out the window but could see nothing other than a narrow strip of sky. He reached seventy-five when, outside, the noise of the crowd suddenly died away. He kept counting. One hundred and twenty comets in all.

The noise of the crowd burst forth once more. This time the people were screaming.

17: Other Gods

Tuki rushed to the window so he might see better. Sha Yukima climbed up onto a bench so he could look as well. The guards stayed in position by the door but shifted from side to side in an effort to catch a glimpse. Outside, the crowd was scattering. Tuki had never seen anything like it. Nobody had any thought for anyone else. They pushed and shoved and cursed.

Great black bats circled in the sky. Tuki did not have to watch to know what happened next. This was not his vision from the desert, he knew, but the bats were the same and they were sure to have the same fiery eggs.

"We must go, Sha Yukima."

"What? Why? You are safest in here."

"We must hurry." But where would they go? Tuki did not know what to do. Even as he urged the priest to hurry, he stayed where he was and turned his gaze back to stare up to the sky. "Where can we hide from the fire?" he asked of himself.

"What fire?"

"The bats, Sha. They will drop eggs of fire onto the city."

"Eggs of fire? What are you talking about?"

"Poti showed me, Sha. Fire."

"Fire? She showed you in the skyglass?"

Tuki thought of telling the truth, 'No, she told me in a bottle,' but decided that an admission like that could cause problems. He said nothing.

"Well quickly then, come with me."

Tuki was aware of the priest hurrying from the room, but he could not take his eyes away from the bats above. The first of them were coming straight for him now, gliding down the side of the hills.

He felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see the priest back by his side.

"If there is fire, we must go."

"Yes," Tuki allowed himself to be led from the room. He followed Sha Yukima, glancing over his shoulder as the soldiers came along behind. Back in the room where the officials were gathered, Tuki stepped amidst a sea of angry faces.

"What is going on?" one of them shouted when he saw Tuki. "Did the troll lead these giant bats to us?"

Tuki would have stopped to explain to the man, but the little priest still had hold of his arm and did not slow down. The soldiers were behind him with their big knives. Yukima turned a corner and went out through the room's third door. Tuki ducked through behind him with the officials at his heels.

"What is going on, Yukima?"

"Where are you taking the troll?"

"I am not a troll."

"Make him stop the bats."

"Shut up you fool."

At the end of the hall, Sha Yukima, now at the head of a long line, pushed open a large stone door and ushered Tuki through. "If the rest of you are coming in here," he said, "then you will have to shut up."

Everyone fell silent for a moment. Tuki went carefully down some stairs and waited in darkness.

"This is not your church, Yukima. This is a building belonging to the Council."

"And how long do you think the Council would last without the support of the Church of Anas? Thank you. Now everyone stay calm, and Keyman, please shut the door before you leave. Tuki seems to think there will be fire."

"I will be staying with the Councilors, Sha," Kuwisa said.

"The Priman will need all the men he can get to protect the city, Keyman".

"Then I will stay here with two men and send the rest to the barracks," Kuwisa replied. "The Council is too important to leave unprotected in the company of a troll."

It looked as if the Sha would say something else, but outside a thunderous sound ripped through the continuing sounds of panicked people.

Someone shouted: "Fire!"

Tuki watched as people started to rush down the stairs towards him. The little bit of light that had been coming from the floor above was blocked by their progress. He felt somebody brush past him. He flinched, fearing more pain. But whoever it was must have known the location of flint and a torch, for moments later light sprang into being.

The room was long and low. Luckily Tuki had not straightened his back, for his head almost brushed the ceiling in his stooped position. Wooden boxes lined two walls, running from either side of the door all the way to the back of the room. Stone columns stood like sentinels along the way, forming deep shadows in the flickering torchlight.

"If he did not bring the bats, how does he know about the fire, Sha?" Nasinwa asked.

"His Goddess showed him."

"His Goddess?" Kuwisa said. "You mean he has gods other than Anas?"

"I believe so."

"And you believe in these gods?" Councilor Nasinwa asked, a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

"It is a Goddess. And I don't see that I have any choice, Councilor. I have seen proof of Her power with my own eyes."

"And where did you see this?"

"Tuki has a crystal ball."

"A crystal ball? Like some hedge witch telling futures?" The Councilor marched over to Tuki who still held the skyglass in his hand. "Let me see this ball. Here, give it to me."

Tuki was reluctant to hand it over. He took a step away from the human who stood with his arm out stretched. "I cannot, go'shin. The Goddess gave it to me, and it cannot be given to another." He could see the look of veiled threat in the other man's eyes, and it scared him.

"You think I will break your sacred ball? Of course I won't. I just want a look."

Tuki examined the skyglass, turning it over in his large, rough hand. The Mother Blower had said nothing to him about the 'glass and who should hold it and who should not. Truth be told, She had not told him he could touch it himself. Councilor Nasinwa was a man of standing, as much as any man could be.

Tuki held the 'glass out hesitantly, and the other man took it with a sudden show of disinterest. Nasinwa weighed it in his hand, as if wondering if he should toss it away. He flinched when the image of Kiva started to fade.

With an uncertain look, Nasinwa quickly gave the skyglass to the Keyman. "Have a look at that," he said. "Talk to Sha Yukima if you have to," he glanced at Tuki, "just don't give it back to him."

"But —"

Nasinwa interrupted Tuki. "You'll get it back when I'm sure."

"Sure of what?" Tuki asked boldly.

The Councilor glared.

"That is not fair, Nasinwa," Sha Yukima said. "You would steal from a young man come to visit our city?"

"I would, if I thought that young man was a danger."

"If he was a danger we'd all be dead by now. If he didn't care, we'd all have been killed because we'd be up above."

"Kuwisa will keep the crystal ball until I say otherwise."

Tuki examined the Keyman and his long, curved knife. He did not think that a blade such as that would be used for peeling tubers. The other man did not look like he wanted the skyglass, given the way he held it out before him on the tips of his fingers, but he was not about to hand it back either. Tuki was sure he could not take it. Seeing there were only three soldiers remaining, he wondered if one of the much-feared trolls would have hesitated.

Councilor Nasinwa continued. "What is in those sacks at his waist?"

"This one is for holding the skyglass," Tuki said, indicating the empty sack. "The other holds inks and needles for tattooing, and my water bottle."

"You can keep those. We will keep the ball for a while."

Sighing, Tuki moved away to sit in the semidarkness with his back against the wall at the far end of the room. Sha Yukima flipped open the lid of one of the boxes and rummaged inside. After a moment he sat on the floor as well.

"You were hungry?"

"Yes."

"Have this." The priest handed him a long red strip that was tough and salty. It was like nothing Tuki had ever tasted.

"What is it Sha?"

"Salted pork."

"Pork? What is pork?"

"Pig. Pork is swine."

Tuki stopped chewing, his eyes widening in horror. After long moments in which he examined the priest to see if he was joking, he spat the food out onto the floor. He spat and spat and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Fumbling for his water bottle he raised his eyes to the heavens in prayer, but the heavens were not there. Above him was only rock. No stars, no sky, and no chance of quickly getting to a place where he could see either. As he drank he cast his glance to the far end of the room. The Keyman was examining the skyglass, but it was dull and lifeless in his hand. He had no use for it, could do nothing with it, and Tuki needed it desperately. He spat some more and looked at the cracked stone ceiling. Prayers tumbled from his lips.

"What is it, Tuki?"

Conscious of being polite, as always, Tuki paused for a moment to answer. "I ate a living creature. I cannot eat a living creature."

He started to pray again. When he married Keala he would get her to draw some stars or the sun somewhere on his skin so he could always see it. The taste would not leave his mouth.

"It was not alive. It was long dead, Tuki."

Tuki swallowed and drew in a deep breath. "Once alive, always alive, Sha. Do your gods not teach this?"

"Our gods say that the physical self dies and the spiritual self goes on to another existence. The bodies of the dead are just husks." The priest climbed quickly to his feet and went to search through another box. He returned a short time later with something that was quite obviously a vegetable. "An apple. It has no soul."

Tuki took a bite of the apple. The cool juices cleansed his mouth like the prayers and the water had not been able.

"What does your Goddess tell you of the body, lad?"

"Poti says that the spirit remains in the body until the body is no more," Tuki replied, dribbling juices down his chin. "And when the body is gone, returned to the world from whence it came, then the spirit is set free to join the stars in the heavens."

"A strange thought."

"No stranger than the teachings of your gods. How can a spirit not be attached to the body in every hair and organ and muscle?" He wondered where the thoughts had come from. Should he compare gods with Sha Yukima? The priest was obviously an intelligent man, far smarter than Tuki, so would he believe in gods that didn't exist? Did all the gods live side by side? Or were some people fooled into believing in false gods? And if false gods existed, who was to say which were false and which were real?

Tuki continued to chew on his apple. It was a wonderful fruit, juicy and crisp and clean. He prayed silently and thought about the existence of the gods.

* * *

Tuki watched Keyman Kuwisa suspiciously in the shifting light of the torches. The man examined the skyglass for a long time, twisting it this way and that in his hand as if it would make a difference, twisting it as if it might catch the light at a different angle and spring into life. Not once had the human tried to speak to it. How could he expect to get any results at all?

After several more minutes, Tuki rose painfully to his feet and made his way toward the Keyman. It was a slow journey conducted under the gaze of everyone in the long, low, narrow room. He tried to ignore them: they were only men after all. He stopped when the two other soldiers surged to their feet, long knives in hand.

Tuki stared at the floor. "You must speak to it," he said to Kuwisa between the tense forms of the other men. "Ask questions, and it will answer."

"Answer?"

"Not in words, but you will receive an answer."

"Show me."

Tuki looked at the man before drawing a breath and walking forward. The soldiers parted to let him through.

After sitting down on the cold stone floor, Tuki reached out a shaking hand to take the skyglass. He could not cover the last fraction of the distance, and his hand hovered there. He concentrated on breathing once more as he shifted his gaze to the Keyman's face. He turned his hand over, so the skyglass could be given to him.

As soon as he touched it, the 'glass started to warm and Kiva materialized.

Perhaps talking is not enough, he thought. Perhaps you have to believe.

Tuki polished the surface for a moment, enjoying the smooth, solid feel of it in his hands.

The blue dot representing the skyglass was clearly visible with no yellow comet-dots nearby, though there were still many all around the world.

"It is safe to go outside," he said, though the thought of all of those monsters just out of sight over the horizon scared him immensely.

"How do you know?"

Tuki kept his eyes on the ball, though he felt the tension in Kuwisa as the other man considered rising.

"How do you know?" An angry spitting of words, as if he did not want to admit the lack of knowledge in himself.

"Because all the comets have gone. Moved on to somewhere else." He showed him the dots.

"But does that mean the bats and monsters have gone as well?"

"Poti would not lie." But, in truth, he wasn't sure. "We cannot stay in here forever," he added, as if that might make up for the lie.

"You can, as far as I'm concerned."

Tuki didn't look up from the 'glass. He didn't know why the humans hated him. Only Sha Yukima spoke to him as if he were a man. "I did not ask to be given the skyglass, Keyman Kuwisa," Tuki said. "I would rather it were the mo'min who was here. But the Mother Blower chose me."

"I don't care about your Goddess, boy," Kuwisa said.

"And yet She sent me to help you."

"Sure She did."

"Are we to stay here? Or do we go back outside?"

"You're staying here." The Keyman took the skyglass. It died in his hand. He swore as he rose to his feet and went to speak with the Councilor.

Tuki couldn't hear what the two men were saying, and he didn't care. He was battered and bruised. His face ached. It was swollen and tender. He almost thought he could feel the blood throbbing beneath the skin. The Mother Blower had sent him to the humans, and he'd done nothing to repay Her faith. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't even had the chance to talk to any women. All he could do was sit and wait, so that was what he did.

After a few minutes of hushed discussion, Keyman Kuwisa spoke to the group at large. "It has been decided that we will stay here for a while longer and then go and see what has happened."

Sha Yukima gave a bark of laughter in response.

"What's so amusing, Sha?"

"Keyman, it is your duty to protect the citizens of Payota. It is what you are paid for, and yet you argue with Councilor Nasinwa to stay safely locked down here while the citizens are above ground."

"You led the way down here, Sha."

"And today is the day you start listening to a priest?"

"In times of crisis, we turn to Anas, Sha. It has always been so."

"Yes, and you turn away as quickly afterwards."

Tuki was shocked. "Keyman, you do not pay homage to even your own gods?"

Kuwisa turned to look at him coldly. "Praying doesn't save lives. In the end, it is always strong doors or strong arms that do that."

"Perhaps," Tuki agreed, "but it is always the Goddess, or gods, who make sure life is worth living."

Councilor Nasinwa smiled. "There are three strong sets of arms here that could have been helping above ground, Kuwisa, instead of guarding some old men. And, if the threat has now passed, then the Council should be up there to lead the way."

"Very well, then. If you insist." Kuwisa broke away from the rest of the group and made his way to the stairs. He paused there and looked back over his shoulder.

"We can't stay here forever, Keyman," Nasinwa said. He had the skyglass again but was paying it no mind, tossing it absently from hand to hand as he spoke. He was going to steal it. Though the human couldn't use it, and probably would not know how to read the messages of the Goddess if he could use it, Nasinwa would keep the 'glass anyway.

"We could wait until morning," Kuwisa said. "Just to be sure."

The Councilor didn't say anything, merely glared, and the other man climbed the stairs to the stone door. A moment later, the humans were all making their way back to ground level, nervously following the soldiers into the daylight. Tuki tried to follow as well but the door was slammed in his face. The closing cut off angry words from Sha Yukima.

Tuki stayed where he was, listening as the bolts were slipped into place. He sat on the bottom step to wait.

The skyglass was gone.

18: More Trolls

Tuki sat on the step for a long time, examining the comet tattoo on the back of his hand, before thinking to try the door above him. He discovered that, with a little bit of effort, he could make it move. It was not a door designed for keeping people in.

It took only a moment for him to realize that he could leave at any time, but considerably longer to decide if he should.

Did the human men have the right to lock him up without so much as a nod from the women? And if they had the earthly authority in general, did they have the right in his case? He'd done nothing wrong. He went through the events of the last few days just to be sure, but they had said as much themselves: he was being kept on the suspicion that he was a troll.

Eventually it was not a question of the rights of the humans, or even his own rights, that decided him. It was the skyglass. Councilor Nasinwa didn't know how to use the 'glass. He didn't understand its importance. As far as Tuki knew there were but two skyglasses in the entire world — he could not let one of those be lost through his own inaction. He gripped the edge of the stone door and pulled. It protested, resisting, but only for a moment.

Outside, the wall of the hallway sagged dangerously, ready to fall at any minute. The rest of the building was no better. It leaned at a crazy angle. Stone blocks were scattered everywhere. Half the tiles from the roof had slipped down to the ground.

The rest of the city was much the same. On either side of the street a line of rubble, both timber and stone, had taken the place of the buildings. They all looked the same now, but it was hardly harmonious. Close to where he was, Tuki could only see three structures still whole. Bodies lay everywhere, strange cold worlds in the expanse of the street. Tuki tried not to look.

Farther away, upright structures were more regular and signs of life could be seen. A thin man dragged a sack out of one house and into the next. A child ran behind a dog. Or perhaps he was with the animal.

Tuki couldn't move. It seemed that while he was underground another world had replaced the one he'd left just hours before. The pain and humiliation that had been inflicted upon him by the humans was completely understandable compared to the destruction wrought by the strangers from the sky. Or perhaps it was exactly the same thing — fear, confusion, misunderstanding — on a much larger scale.

He stood where he was for a long time, eyes turned to the sky so he could pray for the Mother Blower to bring back the world he knew.

He eventually moved away from the tilting, half collapsed remains that had sheltered him. There was not a lot of difference between street and buildings, but at the next corner Tuki went left and at the first standing wall, a hundred and eighty meters from his starting position, paused to get his bearings. He needed to find the skyglass but had no idea where he might start to look. Councilor Nasinwa probably had it in his possession, but where was the Councilor?

Away to the west was a river. A real river filled with an unbelievable amount of water. And nearby, a large group of people were congregating beside a small platform and a tree. They milled about as if they had no idea why they were there, beyond the fact that everyone else was there.

Tuki started down towards the river, because everyone else was there.

Perhaps the Councilor has found a woman to set things right. He hoped so, for he didn't want to be caught with only the men in charge.

There were indeed women in the crowd, but they appeared to be as confused as the men. They cried and shuffled and waited for somebody else to tell them what needed to be done.

Tuki watched from inside a wrecked warehouse. One of the planks had fallen away from the wall, leaving a gap through which he could watch without being seen. His heart was racing. He set his hands against the old, grey timber to steady their shaking.

Near the edges of the group, guards watched silently. They had their big knives out and seemed eager to use them. They prodded at anyone, women or men, who caused even the slightest stir. They elicited startled shrieks and smiled amongst themselves.

Just when Tuki was ready to move his search to other areas, glad of any excuse to be on his way, the Councilor stepped up onto the platform at the very edge of the river and held up his hands for silence. He held his position for a long time before he was satisfied.

"My good people, quiet, please."

Beside the platform were other elderly, serious looking men and women. The Council, Tuki assumed, though there were many more men than women and one wore similar clothes to those worn by the soldiers.

"Some quiet, please."

The rumbling of the crowed died further.

"Thank you." Nasinwa lowered his arms. "We have suffered grievously today. It has been terrible for all of us, and we know not how any other cities in the area have faired. The Priman has sent runners out to Assinabon and Sarsin and through Salisha Valley to Klamoth, but they will probably not return for a week at best. So we must assume we are on our own. We must work together to make sure we have food and shelter. If we all put in and help, we will make it through this."

A disbelieving grumble ran through the gathering, but Nasinwa ignored it.

"There is food aplenty in the market yards. Some of the livestock have escaped, but they will not go far. And several of the warehouses remain untouched. This is a black day for Payota, but we will go on."

Tuki continued to listen as the Councilor organized the running of the city. He ordered men to prepare suitable shelter and others to see to the livestock. Women were directed to the warehouses to collect what they could. Children were to scavenge, finding anything they thought might be useful and passing it on to those older than they.

Some looked as if they might do as they had been told, but the majority of people continued grumbling. Someone shouted for Nasinwa to make shelters himself. Another said that if anyone were hungry they could slaughter their own food.

The group surged towards the nervous council members. A dozen guards were close by, but they weren't going to last long against the mob. Tuki saw the look of fear on Nasinwa's face before the old man lurched backwards and fell to the ground. It wouldn't be long before his protective cordon was overrun. Knowing what the old man was going through, Tuki rose from his hiding place and ran a few steps into the clear. He went all the way to the back of the crowd.

He hesitated, but before he could think of what to do, someone nearby turned and saw him. Tuki and the human stared at each other. The human was a little man with a missing tooth and crooked nose. His eyes were wide with shock and fear, but he reacted quickly, setting up a new shout that instantly spread through the crowd. The nearest people stepped back, crowding those behind.

Within moments the focus of the angry crowd had shifted from Nasinwa and his companions to Tuki.

Tuki suddenly wished he had stayed hidden. All eyes were on him, staring. He didn't know what to do. He might have run, but the skyglass had to be reclaimed. He took a hesitant step forward, heart thundering in his chest.

The crowd edged away. Tuki took another step, and another. A path cleared, and he walked all the way to the river without coming within two meters of a human.

The Councilors watched him come. Nasinwa appeared angry, as if he would rather be attacked than saved by a troll. The others were fearful but stood their ground. Sha Yukima was there as well, looking unsure.

When he reached the base of the platform, staring at the ground while the humans stared at him, Tuki didn't know what to do next. There were women present so he thought he should wait for instructions, but nobody seemed about to offer them. So Tuki did nothing more than turn to look towards the crowd.

Nasinwa, straightening his robes, held up his hand for silence again though nobody was saying anything. "The strangers from the sky are still out there somewhere," he said. For a moment the crowd shifted their focus from Tuki to the Councilor, but only for a moment.

"What's the troll doing?" someone in the crowd shouted.

"Yeah. Is he with us?"

"Are more trolls coming?"

"Yes," Nasinwa said after a moment. "Umm... Yes. The troll lost his village to the sky-men a week ago and came to warn us. More will come when they have seen to their own."

"Trolls don't have villages."

Nasinwa opened his mouth to speak but was obviously at a loss for words. Still nobody looked at him. Tuki became more nervous under the steady gaze of all those strangers. He turned for a moment to look at one of the councilwomen. She smiled to him and nodded.

Tuki took a small step forward. "We..." It came out as barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat and looked to the woman for more encouragement. "We do not have villages," he said. The lie was burning on his tongue, but the woman was telling him to go on. "But we, ummm, we have permanent camps that we call villages." He was sure that only those at the very front of the crowd could hear his words, but they were whispered away from him on other tongues.

"Trolls don't have permanent anything," someone shouted in response.

"It's, ummm, a permanent camp, but the population comes and goes." He would have gone on, but he knew less of trolls than these people did and was afraid that his lies would be discovered. He clamped his mouth shut against a babble of explanations. The crowd stared. Tuki felt like running for cover, but the people blocked any escape route except into the water. He doubted they would melt away like before, and he could never walk into water. He stared at the ground instead, and waited for someone else to take up his lie.

Councilor Nasinwa did. "The trolls come to offer us their strength against an enemy worse than any either of our people have ever seen, but we must have something to give them in return: shelter, food, stability. Please. I need a hundred volunteers to see to the rounding up of livestock and the repair of the market yards. We need to search the city for foodstuffs. We need shelter."

This time when a rumbling went through the mob they were organizing themselves into work parties, galvanized by the thought of allies to help win the fight.

Tuki followed the Councilor when he walked away along the river a while later. A dozen or so others followed as well. They crowded around behind the old man, all talking, and all trying to bring his attention to some important matter or other. Soldiers followed behind them, knives drawn but no longer held with any threat.

Night fell soon after, but it didn't lessen the frenetic activity. A camp had been set up on the banks of the river. Rough lean-tos and tilting shacks had been erected, and more still were going up. Dozens of fires burned, eating through what had once been buildings or furniture. Beasts had been put to death so their flesh could be cooked and eaten. Tuki's protests had no effect in this regard, and he had listened to the animals' bawling and, even worse, to the moments of silence that punctuated. He tried not to watch. He tried not to hear. But he could as easily hold back the desert. Nobody else seemed to care.

Piles of food were growing. The beasts were being treated with salt and herbs that were supposed to make them last, but Tuki felt they would have lasted longer had they been left alive. Fruit and vegetables were being collected in baskets from wrecked houses. Bread and cakes and bisca, too.

Tuki, sitting still and quiet, was near one such pile. There was some bread: a fine, white loaf. There was fruit, rich and ripe, and he could smell porridge. There were things he couldn't recognize to which he attached all description of wondrous taste.

Sitting on the other side of the fire, not excluding him but not inviting him into the talks, were the members of the Council. Nasinwa was there with the skyglass resting in his lap, as if he cared for its safety. The old, uniformed man was there as well. Apparently he was the Priman, the leader of the guards. There were half a dozen women in the group, but they didn't add their voices to the proceedings. They sat and listened with the same tired expressions as Tuki. Perhaps they had already talked amongst themselves, or would later. One by one they drifted away while the men continued. Sha Yukima was nowhere to be seen. He had sat close by earlier, taking part in the discussions, before saying there were important things he could be doing and going away.

Tuki sat with the Council well into the night as they talked themselves into knots. He said nothing, was asked nothing. There were some women grouped about a fire nearby that Tuki could have spoken to, but Nasinwa had the skyglass and he was loath to go anywhere with out it.

The men talked of food and shelter, labor and costs, things that Tuki didn't understand. What cost was there to cut down trees to rebuild the city? The trees were right there, and the men to do the cutting. What cost to distribute the gathered food? And who would take little golden disks as payment?

Apparently anyone would take the disks, and in fact, many refused to do anything if the payment was not made.

When the elder brother moons had departed the sky and only little Rangi remained, the Priman turned his gaze across the fire.

"Troll," he said, an edge of disdain in his voice, "will others come to fight with us if you ask?"

Tuki stared at the man. Surely Nasinwa had told his companions the truth!

"I am not a troll," Tuki said slowly, his eyes darting from one face to the next as all the men turned to hear him speak. "I do not know what a troll is. "

"But you said..."

Tuki swallowed. "I lied."

Councilor Nasinwa grunted. "You persist with that story when it makes no difference now."

"I persist with the story because it is the truth." Tuki paused to think for a moment. "For all I know I may be a troll, but that is not what my people call ourselves. We live in the desert to the south, far from the world of man. We have done no harm to any of your kind."

Sha Yukima returned just then, walking wearily into the circle of firelight. "And why did you come among us now, after staying hidden away for so long?" He lowered himself carefully to the ground near another old man.

"I told you, Sha. The skyglass led me." He motioned to the glass ball on the ground by Nasinwa's side, and all the men turned to look.

Nasinwa laughed. "The ball is a pretty bauble only. Hedge wizards use similar to tell your fortune."

"I saw patterns on the ball moving," Sha Yukima put in. "You saw something, too, Nasinwa. If it's a hedge wizard's trick, it's the best I have ever seen."

"Well, all I saw was a globe like any that could be made by a skilled glass blower. Here, boy, show us again how it works."

Tuki watched eagerly as the Councilor collected the skyglass and threw it across the fire. Tuki’s heart was in his mouth as he watched it sail above the flames, catching the light like a new moon. Only when Tuki had the globe in his hands did he speak.

"In truth, I do not know much in the use of the 'glass, Councilor Nasinwa. Only the mo'min is allowed to use it normally, and only the mo'shi may otherwise see it."

"Oh, so it's a secret that you may not share with us?" Nasinwa said, and his companions laughed with him. "How surprising is that?"

But Tuki didn't hear them. The skyglass was warming in his hands. As the sphere started to glow, the humans fell silent. Kiva soon appeared, filling about a quarter of the glass.

"We are here," Tuki said, pointing to the soft blue spot hovering just below the surface of the glass. "The blue follows the 'glass wherever it goes. I came from down here."

"And what are the yellow dots?" the Priman asked.

Sha Yukima moved from the other side of the fire to sit at Tuki's side. "They mark the bats, correct?"

Tuki sighed. "I don't know for sure Sha, but I don't think so."

"So you know nothing then?" Nasinwa asked.

Tuki examined the 'glass.

"Tell us what you are thinking, lad."

"I think the yellow dots are bats, perhaps, but ones that are still high up in the sky. When they come close to the ground, close enough to see, they disappear from the 'glass."

"Why do you think that?"

Tuki shrugged.

Nasinwa grunted again. "You know nothing. You have a toy that you don't understand, and you play with it, wanting us to be jealous." The Councilor reached out his hand. "Give it back to me."

Tuki held the glass out to be taken; he would not throw it as Nasinwa had. Nasinwa sighed and motioned for one of his fellows to collect it. But before the other man could do as he was bid, Keyman Kuwisa strode into the circle of firelight.

"Councilor," the Keyman said loudly, and Nasinwa nodded. "Priman." The other old man nodded as well. Kuwisa glanced back over his shoulder. Two men followed behind, dragging another between them. "We found this man sneaking away with a sack full of food."

"It was my food," the man protested. "Took it from my own larder." The captive changed tactics then with hardly a pause for breath. "I wasn't going nowhere. Just to the stockpiles to add my bit."

"The stockpiles in which town?" Kuwisa asked.

Nasinwa levered himself to his feet, grunting with the effort. "The food belongs to Payota now, and if we allow one man to take a bit, soon every man will be taking a bit and there will be none left to share. We cannot allow that."

"I doubt you'd be taking a bit. None of you Councilors have moved all day."

Captain Kuwisa hit the man in the face, a solid blow that made Tuki wince. He turned away as a long rope of blood extended down from the man's mouth. The prisoner was unconscious.

Nasinwa shook his head. "We cannot allow this. He must be made an example of, Priman. In the morning we will tie him to the oak tree by the river and administer ten lashes."

"Very well," the Priman replied. "Kuwisa will see to it."

"Is that not a bit harsh, Nasinwa?" Sha Yukima asked. "Have we the right to stop a man from eating the food that he owned?"

"We have every right. We are looking after the needs of the many here, Yukima."

"There are other ways this might be done."

"I do not think a mild scolding will do in this case," the Priman said, supporting the Councilor.

"So again we humans prove how meek and mild and humane we are, while a troll watches on passively?"

Tuki thought of pointing out that he was not a troll but decided Sha Yukima might be trying to make some kind of point with the lie. He remained silent while the two men continued to argue.

Eventually, the priest rose angrily to his feet and stormed away. Some time later Tuki found that he still had the skyglass cupped in his hands. Nobody else seemed to have noticed. Slowly, so the other might not notice, he laid down with the globe clutched against his body protectively.

19: The Doorway

The morning dawned clear and cool, and Tuki discovered he was alone. Back up the river though, a large crowd had gathered. Nasinwa was there, standing on the little stage again with his hand in the air. The breeze was blowing into the old man's face, so when he finally started to talk, Tuki could not hear his words. He did hear the boos of the crowd, however, then watched as the captive man from the previous night was tied to the rough bark of the old, leaning oak tree.

He rose to his feet to watch, but a moment later turned away in horror as Keyman Kuwisa pulled forth a little stick with tails and started to beat the man's bare back.

Tuki turned to look again, as if drawn, and saw the blood striping the man's skin. The Keyman hit him again, and again. Ten lashes, the Councilor had said, but to Tuki the beating seemed to last forever.

If they would do this to one of their own, he thought, what would they have done to me if Sha Yukima had not intervened?

He did not want to stay with these people. The previous evening he had thought the only thing keeping him in the city was that Nasinwa had the skyglass. But now he had the 'glass himself and was still there.

Now it was only the will of Poti that held him. Can I ignore the wishes of the Goddess? Tuki ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the skyglass, gazing into it as he thought.

Remembering some of the things he had learned about the skyglass, Tuki centered the view on Kiva and shifted back slightly. Almost immediately, he smiled. I followed the meteor to get here, he thought, though he no longer believed that it was truly a shooting star, but there are no meteors here now. A hundred and twelve yellow comets were clustered at various points around the world, but the sky above Payota was clear. If the Goddess had led him to this spot, then She was now leading him on to somewhere else. And if She did not lead me here? Then it did not matter.

Without another thought he turned on his heel and started away from the river, the cool, smooth globe back in the sack at his waist.

Once he found a main road, Tuki checked the skyglass, holding it up to the bright, angled light. He wanted to go south, back to the desert, but there were no bats at all in that direction. If he was doing the Goddess' work he had to keep going. If he was not doing the Goddess' work then he was all alone in the world of man. Sighing, he decided to continue in the general direction he had been travelling before being waylaid in Payota. He set off towards the north, happy to be running again. To be under the sky and moving. He smiled as he ran.

Apparently the drawing of blood was great entertainment for humans, for he saw none of them as he made his way between what remained of the buildings. Beyond the city, farmers worked their fields as if nothing had changed. An old man tied sacks of grain before someone younger heaved them into the back of a wagon. A boy sat on a rock watching over a herd of docile beasts. A woman was stuffing straw into to the breeches of a straw man on a stick. On the hill, the city still smoldered.

Tuki passed by all these people and none made comment. They continued about their work as if they saw giants every day or trolls did not scare them. Or perhaps they merely did not care anymore. Their lives had been hard before and were set to get all the harder now.

Sometime later, after trotting for several kilometers without sight of another living creature besides roving beasts from the town, Tuki started to run quicker. Councilor Nasinwa and Keyman Kuwisa would have noticed his absence, and he doubted they would be pleased. The thought of the tailed stick lashing his back pushed him to speeds he would have thought unwise at any other time. The beauty of the landscape meant nothing to him now. Just more fields to run past, more hills to run over, more lakes to run around. Tuki saw nothing except the road beneath his sandals and the tails in his mind.

Tuki was exhausted when night finally came. He stumbled to a halt where the main road curved away to the east and a lesser way continued north.

As he hunched over, breathing deeply, he examined the two paths, wondering which way to go. In the end he decided that it did not matter: one way was as unlikely as the other. So he went north again.

Almost immediately the lesser path started to rise, and over the top of the hill a forest cast its protective shadow in the gathering gloom. He walked down the slope and into the darkness. His feet and legs were hurting. He was more used to running on the shifting sands of the desert than unforgiving solid ground. He stopped to rest again. Sitting in the middle of the path, he rubbed his feet and waited for his eyes to adjust. Soon he could see the outline of the trees but not much more.

He pulled the skyglass out into the open. In the soft radiance of the Goddess's attention he could make out the packed earth of the road and the grassy edges. He stood with a grunt and strode forward with renewed confidence but little energy.

Before long, the road turned abruptly and dipped down into a small hollow where a farmer's hovel crouched beside a narrow, frothing stream. Tuki stood where the road ended and bare earth started. He could see a candle burning within the shack, and movement. He dared not go closer. The beast herder and the sack sewer could inform everyone that they had indeed seen the troll, but their testimony would not help as much as that of the owner of the hovel.

Tuki climbed back out of the hollow and turned away from the road. A narrow path led up the side of the hill and through a saddle. Beyond, true darkness gathered in a long narrow valley. Tuki sighed as he started forward and held the skyglass aloft to light his way.

“[Stop where you are.]”

Tuki continued for several steps before he even realized that he had heard a voice in the darkness. He did not know the words, but the tone was similar to that of Keyman Kuwisa. He stopped.

“[Jesus, he's bloody huge,]” somebody whispered.

“[Shut up, private. And stay down.]”

“[Sorry, sir.]”

Tuki looked back over his shoulder, wondering if he should run. Wondering if he could run. Wondering how far he would get. His legs ached, and he felt ready to fall asleep where he stood.

“[Can you understand me?]”

Tuki still held the skyglass above his head. It seemed he could see everything apart from the men who spoke. The meaning of their words eluded him.

“[Where's Dongoske? He's in the thick of the action, isn't he?]”

The sound of someone approaching, quickly but quietly.

“[Here, sir.]”

“[See if you can talk to this guy.]”

“[Big dude, isn't he! Looks a bit Polynesian with those tattoos.]”

“[Airman!]”

“[Sorry, sir.]” A pause. "Can you understand me?"

Tuki nodded his head slowly. "Yes."

"What is your name? What are you doing here?"

"My name is Tuki. I am running." He did not understand every word the stranger said but he understood enough.

“[He speaks... well, it is a mixture of several languages, sir. Mainly Shoshone, I think, with a lot of other stuff thrown in.]”

“[Don't talk to me, Airman. Talk to him.]”

“[Yes, sir. Of course.]” The unseen stranger cleared his throat. "Why are you running, brother? Where do you run to?"

"I run because it is quicker than walking, and I do not know where I run to."

“[What did he say, Airman?]”

Tuki heard the man sigh before speaking to the other, unseen man.

“[He says he is running to a place he doesn't know, sir.]”

“[Shit, that's all we need. Forest bloody Gump.]”

“[At least we haven't shot him yet, sir.]”

“[Shut up, Dongoske.]"

“[Sir.]”

“[Ask him if he'll follow us.]”

"Tuki, I am called Ben Dongoske. I am a Senior Airman in my nation's army. Will you come with me to our camp?"

"Where is your camp? And why would I want to go there?"

"It is down in the valley, in a cave. We have food and water there. You can rest."

"I can rest here."

"We can't let you. You must come down into our camp, or you must turn around and go back the way you came."

Tuki looked over his shoulder, as if Keyman Kuwisa and his men might rush out of the darkness at that very moment to take the skyglass away. The bruises on his face and body still throbbed.

"You have food and water?"

"We do."

"Do you eat the flesh of beasts?"

"We do, but we have fruit as well, if you would prefer."

"And I can continue on my way tomorrow after I have rested?"

The man paused. "If you wish it, we will take you to the other end of the valley."

Tuki looked behind again. He thought he was safe from the people of Payota, but he was not sure. These strangers hadn't accused him of being a troll or threatened him in any way. Or perhaps they were the fearsome trolls, themselves, and not so fearsome after all. Perhaps these were the people the Mother Blower was leading him to.

"I will come."

"Good. Good." The man stepped into the soft light of the skyglass. He was dark skinned and dressed from head to toe in multihued green clothes, allowing him to blend with the forest and the night. He wore a glass screen over his eyes. His mouth was covered as well. "Come on then. Let's get you some food, hey."

Tuki followed the man down into the valley. He did not see anyone else beside the trail.

* * *

Tuki didn't move. He examined the doorway then turned his attention to the room.

The small chamber had humans carved on the walls in relief. Bright lights stood on tall poles.

A dozen men, all clothed in strange noisy white suits and with clear screens covering their faces, worked around him. He couldn't begin to guess what they were doing. Glowing windows looked onto nothing, but showed rows of little symbols. They reminded him of the squares in the skyglass. There were boxes that talked with voices that crackled and hissed, and other boxes that steamed when they were opened. Men adjusted knobs and stared through tubes. Some babbled to each other, or muttered under their breath.

Standing on his own, Tuki watched as everyone cast furtive glances in his direction. Every time he turned their way, the men turned back to continue with their work. It seemed a long time before anyone spoke to him again. A man, large for a human, came through the silvery doorway, shifting uncomfortably in his white suit. Ben Dongoske was with him.

"This is General Hilliard," Dongoske said. "He is our leader here."

“[Hello,]” General Hilliard held out his hand, and Tuki looked at it until it was lowered again. “[We'll be able to let you through the door in about five minutes, and after that we will have to do some tests. Medical stuff.]”

Dongoske translated, but it made little difference to Tuki. Medical tests? He shrugged his shoulders and waited. General Hilliard moved purposefully away to speak to a man holding a talking box.

"Where do you live, Tuki? Close by?"

"No. I live many days to the south. It is many years since any moai has visited the lands of man. It is much different than what I expected."

Dongoske laughed. "I'm sure the lands of man on your world are not normally like this," he said.

A third person joined them. Though clad head to toe like everyone else, the newcomer was unmistakably female behind the helmet's transparent faceplate.

“[We're ready for him now.]”

"Okay then. Tuki, we're going through."

"Very well." He followed his companions. "What is that?" he asked as he stepped through the silver sheen. "What is it for?"

"We don't really know the answer to either of those questions, Tuki. Maybe the two worlds need to be divided, or something."

"The two worlds?"

"I'm sorry, I should explain. This door leads between worlds. Between your world and the world of my people."

Tuki gasped. "You come from another world?" Beyond the shimmering doorway was a tiny room with reflective walls made mainly from wonderful glass. Beyond that, a large room with stone shelters in the corners. They went quickly through another door and entered a room with polished walls and a big bed in the middle. More of the windowed boxes lined the walls.

I am on another world? He tried to look at everything, as if something in the cave would reveal to him his new location. But of course it was just stone, and a dozen more strangers gathered around a dozen more strange objects. "What is your world called?" He took a little step forward and quickly turned his eyes to the skyglass.

"Earth."

Tuki raised the skyglass. It was still glowing softly.

General Hilliard, nearby once more, took an involuntary step backward. Another man, larger than any other but still not as large as Tuki, stepped forward. Somebody gasped. Everyone was watching.

“[Is it a weapon, Airman?]”

“[I don't think so... How the hell should I know? Jesus... Watch him.]”

Tuki ignored them. "Earth," he said.

Nothing happened.

"Your world has no other name?"

Dongoske shook his head.

So Tuki said the word that would center the view on his location. In the glass the colors shifted, transformed, until a new globe was showing. Huge oceans dominated strange landmasses.

“[Oh my God.]”

Tuki spared a glance for Dongoske before looking at the skyglass again. "Back. Back." And the world was just a dot in the center of the 'glass with a single moon showing and the yellow spots of meteors.

"You have many meteors here." Two hundred and five. "The Goddess' voice is loud."

"They are not meteors, Tuki. They are starships. They are vehicles, like wagons, that fly between the stars."

Tuki nodded slowly. "I thought they might be something like that, but was not sure. Could it still be a warning from the Mother Blower, do you think, even though they are not shooting stars? The Goddess works in mysterious ways."

"A warning of what?"

"Of the giant bats. They attacked Payota with eggs of fire and hatched dozens of hard shelled babies."

"The gods do work in mysterious ways, Tuki. We can never hope to understand all that they tell us."

Tuki smiled at the human, but Dongoske had already turned to General Hilliard.

“[Sir, the other world is being attacked by the bats as well. Tuki saw the mother ships in his 'skyglass' and tried to warn someone.]”

“[The first thing we have to do is get that damn thing off him so we can work out what the hell it is.]”

“[I don't think he'll let us have it, sir. It has some serious religious significance.]”

“[Isn't everything that's religious serious?]” Hilliard grunted. “[All right then, let's just see if we can get him unconscious, and then we can do what we need to do.]”

“[As ever, sir.]” Dongoske turned back to Tuki. "Tuki we have to let our doctors see you, to make sure we don't have any illnesses that can harm you. And to make sure you don't have any that can harm us."

"I am fit and healthy, Airman Dongoske."

"I'm sure, but it's like the monsters invading. Because the humans of... Payota, was it? Because they've never seen the monsters before, they can't beat them. I may have a disease that does not harm me, but because you have never seen it before, your body will not know how to fight it."

Tuki watched the other man carefully, but it was hard to see his face properly because of the coverings he wore. Tuki suddenly wondered if the monsters did not have hard colorful skins after all. Perhaps, like these humans, they dressed in protective clothing. And if that was the case, who was to say what the creatures inside looked like? Perhaps they were just humans after all.

Tuki shook his head. "No." If he'd been thinking properly earlier and not letting his fear control him, he would not have entered the valley in the first place. If he'd been thinking, he would have run south after leaving Payota, towards Danyon Ford.

"Pardon?"

"No. Your doctors cannot touch me."

"But..."

"I wish to go back to my world."

Dongoske turned to look at his leader. “[General, Tuki wishes to go home.]”

“[What the hell did you say to him?]”

“[Nothing, sir. Perhaps he just knows humans too well.]”

“[Well, tell him he can't go. We need to study him and that crystal ball of his and, if we must, we'll use force to get what we want.]”

“[Sir, we shot the last aliens we saw here. Do we really want to do that again? Do you think we'll be able to overpower this guy?]”

“[We have technology on our side, Airman.]”

“[And he has the right on his.]”

General Hilliard sighed. “[Don't you think I know that, Airman? Do you think I want to do it?]”

“[Sir, I —]”

“[We are talking about the survival of the human race here, Airman. The bat-aliens seem pretty stupid at the moment, but if they ever start to think we could be in real trouble.]”

Tuki could not understand a word the two men were saying but thought he understood well enough anyway. He started backing towards the door, and his suspicions were confirmed when two men moved to block his route.

“[Airman Dongoske, tell him we won't attempt to take the ball from him, but he must allow us to conduct tests on him.]”

“[Tests, sir?]”

The General sighed. “[We aren't talking lab-rat tests here, Airman. We're talking medical tests to make sure that neither he nor we will be harmed by our interaction.]”

“[Very well, sir.]”

“[I wasn't asking, Airman.]”

Airman Dongoske spoke again, and Tuki stood silently while he listened. "Do I have your word? And the word of the General?" Tuki did not think that the word of these humans would hold them to anything, but still he asked. "Do you swear on the moons and the stars?"

“[Sir, he's asking us to give our word.]”

“[So give it.]”

“[I think he'd take it very seriously and, if we broke our word, would basically never trust us again. In any situation. Ever. He's friendly at the moment, and he has knowledge that we don't have and may never acquire on our own.]”

“[Give it, Airman. Swear on whatever he asks.]”

Tuki watched as Dongoske sighed and turned back to face him. He knew that the Airman would swear, and he knew that General Hilliard would break the trust. But there was nothing he could do except as they asked.

"Tuki, you have my word. And the word of the General."

Tuki sighed, himself, then. Only days amongst humans and he knew them already. "Very well. What must I do?"

"Just lie down on this bed. It will be a little small, but that should be okay."

Tuki moved to the bed indicated by the Airman and lay down. His legs hung over the end, and it was too narrow by far, but he said nothing. He stared at the red stone of the ceiling and clutched the skyglass in his hand.

"Now, we're going to give you a needle so we can take some blood and study it. It may hurt a little bit, but only a very little. And it won't last long."

"They wish to stick that in me?"

"If you like, we can stick a needle in somebody else, first, on the other side of that window, to show that it will do you no harm."

"That would be good." Though he knew it would make no difference. With a last look at the skyglass, he muttered the word that switched it off then handed it to Airman Dongoske.

20: Other

Keeble raced down the stairs of the plane and onto the floor of the huge shed.

The men on the second flight hadn't spoken to him at all. They weren't nearly as friendly as the others. Normally, being stuck in his seat with minimal talk would have driven Keeble to distraction, but with all the information swirling through his mind he'd had more than enough to keep occupied.

On the ground again, he took the chance to examine the wing to see if it was the same shape as the last one. What a marvel that such a simple idea could be the secret to flight. He ran his hand along the flaps, felt the heat radiating from the engine. He was left on his own for several minutes before one of the men came to collect him. Then he was led across to where Kim and Meledrin waited near a normal sized door that looked out of place amidst the otherwise huge scale of the shed.

“[Where are we?]” Kim asked a stony faced dwarf.

Keeble couldn't understand her, so he touched the door to see if he could work out what type of metal it was.

“[Groom Lake,]” the dwarf replied.

“[Yeah? Great.]”

“[Area 51.]”

“[Oh.]” Kim looked around as if some startling revelation had suddenly made everything clear. Keeble looked around the shed as well, but everything still looked the same as it had a moment ago. Three small planes, smaller even than the one they had arrived in, were partly stripped down. Keeble wanted to go and look, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed. A little room hung suspended from the wall at the back. Fields of green canvas had been pushed up into mountains by piles of unseen items beneath.

A talking box crackled, and one of the agents opened the door to usher Keeble and his companions through. Keeble went last hoping to examine their surroundings. There wasn't a lot of point. The heat of a desert hit him, and he saw Meledrin wilt at the onslaught, but that was about as interesting as it got. There were a couple of dun-colored sheds nearby to match the one he had just exited, and an up thrust of dun-colored hills beyond them. Between the two was a large, flat expanse of nothing. Dun-colored. Inside had been better.

Nearby, there was a big, black car with a sliding door on the side. He was bustled into the vehicle and felt it starting to move, though the windows had been blanked out and he couldn't see through. The soldiers were suddenly fierce looking and serious behind their dark spectacles.

Keeble was uncomfortable.

He glanced across to Kim and noticed that she didn't seem her usual self either. Meledrin looked as she always did, calm and serious. Keeble spared a moment to sneer at her and then went back to worrying. Normally he would've talked to lessen his unease, but who was he to talk to? Meledrin? The dwife stared straight ahead, her copper-colored hair a stark contrast to everything else in the car. Keeble sneered again and turned to face the front.

When the car finally stopped, Keeble was ready to jump out, but nobody else moved. He tried to look as calm as Meledrin, but as the minutes dragged by he began to worry.

"What's happening?" he asked. He couldn't imagine a set of the colored lights out in the middle of the desert to hold up the traffic.

Finally, the van started to move again.

“[What were we waiting for?]” Kim asked.

“[The van was hit by about three dozen different forms of waves to kill any bacteria we were carrying. We're now in a totally secure, totally clean area. If we don't want something getting into or out of this place, then there's no way that it'll happen.]”

“[Supposedly. How do you know all of your waving can kill the germs those two are carrying?]”

“[You don't know anything about the measures we take.]"

“[Do you think Keeble couldn't break any of your mechanical security systems?]”

“[That little medieval rustic?]”

Whatever Kim and the dwarf were talking about was apparently funny, to the dwarf at least. But Keeble sat glumly. He knew they were now underground, he could feel it in his bones, but he couldn't see. He was sure he could hear the hum of electricity. There was also the lower pitched hum of the rubber tires on concrete, with a tap-tap, every now and then when they crossed a join. And the rumble of the engine, spitting out oil fumes like they would last forever. The caves were slipping past without him seeing a single piece of stone.

With everything else he knew of these dwarves, he guessed that any caves would be amazing.

Just when Keeble could stand it no longer, the car came to a stop and the door slid open. A big, black-skinned dwarf stood outside, muscles bulging out of a green shirt with no sleeves. His small, dark eyes watched Keeble for a moment, before he looked both directions along the side of the car and motioned for everyone to come out.

“[General Hilliard is waiting for you down in Room 34,]” the big dwarf said.

One of the dwarves from the car nodded and led the way through a metal door that slid open automatically at their approach. Keeble stopped without going through.

It was a long time since he had been near natural, solid stone, and he felt its presence dancing along his nerve endings. He hadn't realized that he had missed it so much.

The walls of the tunnel were as smooth as the blade of an axe. He ran his fingers along a vein of quartz running though the pale red of the stone. He could hardly feel that the quartz was there.

"Can these dwarves Sing?" Keeble asked Meledrin. She ignored him. "Ask Kim if her people have any knowledge of Rock Singing." He could feel his own Song, like the sound made by the magical gate, building in his mind, unbidden and uncontrollable.

"I have a Song!" It was a shocking thought. He leaned against the wall. "I have a Song."

But Meledrin asked Kim something then said, "Kim says that her people do indeed have knowledge of rock singing."

That explained it then. But the cave must be ancient, for only a whisper of magic still clung to the stone. No dwarf from Sherindel would ever have let magic do the bulk of the labor, needing the feel of tools in their hands to feel that true work was being done, but the strength of the Earth's Singers could not be denied. Keeble laid his hand flat on the wall. With the Song in his mind, he could feel the very presence of the stone.

"Ask her if we will get to meet a Hummer. Or even a Singer."

"Kim says that it is not likely that any singers will be in this area."

"Oh."

The big, black dwarf took Keeble by the arm and drew him beyond the door. But once there, there was nowhere to go anyway. The room was tiny, with just a single button for decoration.

Keeble tried to go back out to examine the wall some more, but the big dwarf grabbed his arm and held him still. A moment later, someone pressed the button and the doors slid closed.

After the room lurched slightly, Keeble smiled. "Hey, we're going down." He pulled free of the restraining hand and pushed his way across to press the button again. Nothing changed. He pressed a second time. Still the little room dropped deeper into the ground. Then it stopped and the door opened.

Keeble's smile grew. "That's amazing." He stabbed at the button again. One of the soldiers reached for his arm, but too late. The doors started to close immediately, and the big black dwarf reached forward to hold them back. Keeble nodded, impressed that he could seemingly hold back hydraulics without any effort at all.

The corridor beyond the door was still bare stone, a beauty to behold. Wonderful stone. Ripples of color flowed in random patterns. Pale blue and yellow. Black and brown. All dancing the red of the wall like the notes of a Song. Keeble moved forward, running his fingers along the stone. There were still small touches of magic, but they were ancient workings. Further down, near the first branching of tunnels, a frieze had been carved. Two dwarves, one of them huge, walking side by side, deep in conversation while over their heads a full moon dominated. The natural colors of the wall had flowed to color the figures as if they'd been painted. On another wall someone knelt by a pool of still blue water, and over there a little dwife stared at the stars high above.

Keeble stopped to examine the work. He didn't get much of a chance, though. The big dwarf nudged him forward and he hurried to catch up with his companions. Kim was looking more nervous with each step she took. She fiddled with the collar of her shirt, twisting it this way and that in her long fingers. Meledrin moved calmly, as ever, not looking to either side, seeming to listen to the idle conversation of the escort. Keeble wished he could understand them as well. He could understand some, when they spoke slowly.

"What are they saying?" he asked Meledrin.

"They speak of others."

"Other whats?"

"Other people. A group of soldiers. They are not sure, themselves. And one other in particular. They refer to her as 'the other'."

"Her? Another bloody dwife?"

Meledrin shrugged. "I merely assume it is a woman as the 'other' appears to have some religious capacity."

"Well, have you noticed that with these dwarves the women aren't in charge? Your people will learn one day."

Meledrin didn't answer, and Keeble smiled. Kim studied the back of the big black dwarf, as if a map to their destination might be sewn into the fabric on his broad back.

“[Where are we going?]” she asked.

One of the dwarves from the car answered. “[We're going to meet General Hilliard. He's in charge.]”

“[And Room 32?]”

“[It's a conference room off the General's office.]”

“[Sure it is.]”

“[Have I given you any reason to doubt me?]”

“[You've hardly said a word. But you work for the US government, and we're walking through a tunnel under Area 51. Should I believe you?]”

The dwarf shrugged. “[Perhaps not. But it makes no difference to my life either way.]”

Keeble looked at the wall and touched the smooth stone while he walked. He could feel it dancing under his fingertips.

Eventually, after a dozen turnings and several short flights of stairs, they stopped in front of a plain, deep-set metal door. They'd seen nobody in all of their travels, no hint of activity. All of the hallways had been empty and featureless, apart from the swirling patterns on the walls that occasionally coalesced into striking pictures. Keeble was surprised to realize that they were apparently at their destination. He went inside when the door was opened.

The room beyond was four meters to a side with a metal locker to the right of the door and a table and four chairs in the middle. A second door, flanked by two beds, was directly opposite the entrance. The biggest dwarf Keeble had ever seen was lying on one of the beds. He was fast asleep and hanging over the edges. The door closed and Keeble turned to discover that he, Kim, and Meledrin were alone with the stranger.

“[Looks more like a cell than a conference room,]” Kim said, taking a chair as she examined the stranger on the bed. “[Who's he, do you think?]”

Meledrin and Kim babbled for a few minutes as Keeble circled the room. He opened the second door and discovered a bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink. The locker contained some books and cardboard boxes. He closed the door and continued circling.

"This looks like a cell," he said after completing his third lap. "Are we prisoners? What did you tell them?"

But Kim paid him no mind, and neither did Meledrin.

The walls were only about a meter thick. He could feel the resonances. They were perfect, not a fault, not a weak point. Without a Rock Song, even with the proper tools, it would take him the best part of a couple of days to tunnel through. Wonderful stone. He stood for a long time, feeling the Song slowly building in his mind. It wasn't until he sounded the first note out loud that he got control of himself.

With a shudder, he clamped his mouth shut and went to sit down on the vacant bed. Meledrin and Kim were talking quietly.

He wished he had something to do. He unstrapped his arm and examined the rusting gears but, having no tools, that just made him more frustrated than when he'd started.

He was relieved when the big, sleeping dwarf stirred and started to sit up.

"Find out who he is," Keeble said to Meledrin before the stranger had even swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Find out what's going on. See if he can get us out."

"Give him a chance, Keeble," the dwife replied.

Keeble grunted and turned to the stranger. "Hello," he said with a smile. "I'm Keeble." He pointed to himself. "Keeble." There was no reply. "Do you know the way out? Do they have coffee here? And who made this place? It's wonderful stone." He had to fight to keep his attention from wandering.

The big dwarf just turned to look at him for a moment and then lowered his head to his hands. He had strange tattoos on his left arm and shoulder.

“[I think he's been drugged,]” Kim said softly, and that started off another lengthy conversation.

Keeble looked at the wall behind the big dwarf. It was smooth and shiny, though old beyond thinking. Such amazing stone. His Song was singing.

21: Lost Ones

"Ask him his name," Kim said to Meledrin.

Meledrin gave a slight shake of her head. "It does not work like that, Kim."

"Then how does it work?"

The big man, hardly more than a boy, really, had been babbling to himself for five minutes, cowering in the corner like somebody was going to hit him.

"I can learn a language from listening to someone speaking it, but without some context from which to work, it is difficult to even begin."

"Okay. Great." Kim rose to her feet and paced the room before slapping herself in the forehead for being such a fool. She crossed to the giant and crouched down nearby. "Kim," she said, pointing to herself. The lad seemed to ignore her. "Kim." Still no response. He just looked at her and continued to babble. "Keeble, come here." She beckoned the dwarf over. It took awhile for him to react, but eventually he turned away from the wall and introduced himself to the giant again. Meledrin watched silently, apparently not thinking it worth her while to speak to a mere boy.

"Kim," Kim said again. "Keeble."

The giant stopped his muttering but didn't reply. So Kim just started to talk, describing her travels over the past few years. She tried to keep her voice steady and even, and kept a smile on her face. Still, he made no reply.

After ten minutes of this, Kim returned to her seat and sat down. Keeble filled the silence with his own ramblings. Kim understood several words: car, plane, electricity. The giant seemed to listen more intently, though obviously he couldn't understand even as much as she.

"Do you know any legends about giants, Meledrin?" Kim asked as she watched the one-sided conversation between the dwarf and the stranger.

"Not really. No full tales because it has been millennia since the last giant was seen."

"Until today."

"Possibly."

"So what do you know, then, if there are no complete tales?"

"It is said that the gods spoke to them directly, guiding them with voices in the stars. They were called the Navigators, because they guided all people through the shoals of the gods' wishes."

"Very poetic."

Meledrin gave Kim the condescending look that she was getting used to. In the corner, the stranger finally spoke in reply to Keeble's babbling. Kim smiled at the thought that he was probably telling the dwarf to shut up. Meledrin glanced across to the corner as Kim went over and introduced herself again. Keeble slowed down long enough to followed suit. Then, with a sneer, he introduced Meledrin.

Finally the lad pointed to himself and said, "Tuki."

"Hello, Tuki." Kim then proceeded to introduce the table. "Table," she said, pointing and indicating that she would like him to say his word for the item. Eventually he seemed to get the picture, for he said a single word. Kim then went right around the room naming everything in turn and getting his words in response. Then she started pointing to parts of herself. He seemed unusually shy about that, but gave his words with a lowered head and rosy blush. Clothes were next.

"What else can we do?" Kim asked. Keeble had grown bored of the game and had returned his attention to the walls.

"Concepts, perhaps," Meledrin suggested. "Large and small. Hard and soft. Colors. Numbers. Anything, so long as he knows what we mean and is able tell us his own words."

So Kim set to work again with Meledrin silently watching. Half an hour later, she thought she had exhausted all of the possibilities and told the elf so. Meledrin nodded.

"I think that is enough to get started. It seems an absurdly simple language." She turned to face the lad. “[Are you well?]” she said.

Tuki's eyes widened in surprise.

“[I am not sick or injured, but the humans have taken the skyglass. Thank you for asking, mo'shi.]”

Kim was slightly shocked herself. She could almost understand what the lad was saying. She was sure that she was just a few moments from understanding and listened for when the moment came.

“[The skyglass? What is it?]”

Tuki looked surprised again; whether by the question or something else was not entirely clear.

“[It is a glass ball, about the size of your head, mo'shi. The Goddess speaks through it.]”

“[Voices come from the glass?]”

“[No. They speak in the stars, which are shown in the 'glass.]”

"How long you here?" Kim asked. She'd finished the question before she realized she was speaking Tuki's language. She'd learned Spanish as a teenager, but it hadn't felt anything like this.

“[I do not know, mo'shi. They stuck something in my arm, and I slept. I awoke for the first time when you were here.]”

Kim only got half of that, which was more than she should have, but it was enough.

“[And where is it that you came from?]” Meledrin again, looking annoyed.

“[My world is called Kiva.]”

“[And what are your people called?]”

“[We are moai, mo'shi.]”

Kim interrupted and made the elf repeat the conversation back. She discovered that she needn't have bothered; she'd understood enough. While she pondered the mysteries of language, Meledrin started talking to the lad once more.

"Now what?" Kim asked when they had gone through all manner of questions and answers.

Meledrin shrugged. "He says he came here by choice, but I think he had as much choice in the matter as we did in the end."

"Yes, I heard what he said."

Kim watched as Meledrin went back to grilling the moai. Keeble was examining the lock on the door, bending down to look in the keyhole and fiddling with the handle. He seemed to lose interest when it didn't magically pop open, and went to look at the stone walls instead, as if they might offer a better option for escape. He ran his fingers along the smooth stone and tried to scratch it with his metal hand. Nothing magical happened there either, but he stayed where he was, staring and mumbling to himself. He kept his hand on the wall, fingers spread, face intense with concentration.

Kim drifted away to sleep as she listened to Meledrin and Tuki and watched Keeble. The words swam through her dreams, in murky water at first, but becoming clearer by the moment.

* * *

Kim divided her attention between the television and Meledrin and Tuki. The former was tuned to CNN, while her companions spoke of religion, culture, and agriculture, and everything in between. More people were being killed by falling bat-things in most places, but central South America was being decimated. They didn't have the resources of a lot of places and were under almost constant attack. Normally both the news and the conversation might have been interesting, but Kim couldn't concentrate. All she could think about was that she could understand what Tuki was saying. Meledrin picking up a language like a child picked up a lollypop was all well and good, she was an alien after all, but Kim was just a human.

The little that had been said about the skyglass had aroused Kim's interest, but the lad seemed reluctant to talk about it, or didn't have much to say. The skyglass told the moai when to plant crops. It told them when sand storms were coming. It told them when there would be eclipses. And it had told Tuki when the aliens were coming. However, when Meledrin pressed him on the subject, he'd invariably apologize and shake his head.

As far as Kim could tell, Keeble paid no attention to the conversation at all. He had slowly become more distant since entering the caves. He wandered around, muttering and pressing his good hand against the wall. He seemed to be arguing with himself and was having a hard time getting his point across.

"Excuse me, Meledrin?"

"Yes, Kim?" The elf broke off her conversation and turned her cool gaze to Kim.

"What's Keeble saying?"

"'But I failed the test,' he says. 'I have no right. But we are stuck in this room and who knows what these Americans intend. They didn't make these tunnels themselves, that's for sure, so where are the builders now? Who says they didn't make the tunnels? But what if I fail? I think I failed before.'"

Keeble stopped his pacing and stared at the metal contraption on his arm, winding the gears that adjusted its angles.

"What does he mean?"

"I mentioned previously about Keeble failing the test. It relates in some way to the method by which dwarves find their leaders. His failure resulted in him being cast out. I do not know the details."

"Ask him."

"I will not. I am talking to Tuki." She turned back to the moai to resume her conversation.

Snooty bitch, Kim thought. Meledrin didn't care for Tuki at all, in any way, but it was obvious that the youngster treated the elf with great respect and deference, and that seemed to get her attention. It also seemed to reinforce her view that she was so much more wonderful than anyone else and Keeble was little more than a savage.

From what Kim could gather, Tuki had been brought up in a culture where women ruled without dispute. She would have to cure him of that notion at the first opportunity, especially with Meledrin around.

Kim turned back to the television. As far as she could tell, there was no way to change the channel. Of course, the aliens were getting the most coverage, especially since they were starting to meet with some success. They were attacking from higher up, apparently, dropping their crude bombs from altitudes greater than most human planes could fly.

I thought of that days ago.

The experts on the news didn't know how the bats could fly around in space. They couldn't even hazard a guess as to how they could land on the earth and get back up into space. Kim was pleased to know that she had a bit more information than they did, but taking her position into account, she thought she didn't know anywhere near as much as she should.

So with the aliens finally learning from their mistakes and anything that even resembled a working satellite long ago shot down, the major powers were having problems coming up with answers. They'd tried firing shrapnel into orbital routes, but the ships, or creatures if that's what they were, seemed to be infinitely maneuverable. They tried bombarding them with radiation, but seeing they lived in space they'd most likely be immune to such things. There were probably a few dozen other things the authorities had tried but weren't telling the media.

Kim wondered how she could change the channel. She didn't want to hear about the war any more. Not today.

As if someone were reading her thoughts, which wouldn't have surprised Kim in this place, the television went dark and the door opened.

Three men, one in an expensive suit and the others in blue uniforms, marched in. The middle man was obviously in charge. He was older than the others, calmer. The look in his eyes would've given his position away, even without the other clues. His bearing was military, his demeanor harsh.

The other two were obviously not hired for their non-threatening appearance. The smaller of these two men, a Native American, held a glass ball a little smaller than a human head. The skyglass, Kim guessed. The man held it as if ready to ward off attack, and his eyes danced from Kim to Meledrin to Keeble to Tuki and back again.

The leader took a chair and sat at the table. "We'd like to ask some questions."

"Such as?"

"Such as, how does the elf know Shoshone?"

Kim looked at Meledrin for a moment. "Who's Shoshone?"

The leader sighed. "It would go easier for everyone if you'd drop the smart-ass attitude, Miss McLean."

"And it'd go a lot easier if you'd ask a sensible question. The only people that Meledrin knows with more than a passing acquaintance are in this room, and the Palsamon guy in London."

"Miss McLean, Shoshone isn't a person, it's a language. It's the language spoken by several Native American tribes from around this region. Senior Airman Dongoske here is from one of those tribes." He motioned to the man with the skyglass.

Kim looked at the man again and had to revise her opinion. He wasn't there for his winning personality, for sure, but he wasn't just there for his muscles either. He was there because he could speak to Tuki.

"So, Tuki comes from another world, and yet he speaks a language used by Native Americans?"

Dongoske, perhaps a little overeager, interrupted his superior. "It is not exactly Shoshone, Miss McLean, but a lot of it is. I can work out a lot of things Tuki's saying by context. It's surprisingly easy, actually." He finally looked at the other man and fell into an embarrassed silence.

The leader wore a look Meledrin would have been proud of. "But none of this tells us exactly how Meledrin came to know the language."

Kim didn't feel like pointing out that she knew the language as well. That was one advantage she was not yet willing to give up.

"I did not know the language," Meledrin said, and Kim smiled slightly. The tone of the elf's voice showed that she hadn't really learned much at all about humans. "I learned it."

"Excuse me? When?"

"Just now."

"You've been in here for about two hours. Are you telling me you learned the language in two hours?"

"Well, obviously there is still much to learn, but yes."

"Bullshit."

Kim laughed. "We have aliens attacking earth from the backs of giant space-going bats. We have gateways to other worlds. We have crystal balls, or whatever the hell it is. And you can't believe in someone's ability to learn a language?"

"It isn't possible to learn a language in a couple of hours."

"Whatever. You're the expert, I'm sure. But remember, Mel's only been on Earth for a couple of days. What's more likely? They speak English on Sherindel, or she's a quick learner?"

"There you go with that attitude again, Miss McLean."

"Well, I'm being held prisoner, but I haven't been read my rights and I haven't been allowed to speak to a lawyer."

"You aren't a prisoner."

"Great." Kim smiled and rose to her feet. "I'm off then." She didn't even bother stepping towards the still open door. Before she had finished the sentence, two uniformed men stepped into view. "Oh, I get it. I'm not a prisoner, I'm being held for my own safety. Sorry, how could I not see that?"

Kim looked at the man in charge and knew she was about to get the smart-ass allegation thrown at her again. "You ask questions and we'll answer them. Don't blame us if you don't like the answers."

"I'll ask questions, and you'll tell the truth."

"Obviously you'll only accept a version of the truth that suits your ends."

"Miss McLean, you came to us, remember?"

"I do remember, but apparently the significance of that means nothing to you. We won't run away if we're treated with a bit of understanding and respect. All this stuff going on now is just pissing me off, and the more I get pissed off, the more I'll dig my heels in."

"We have ways to make you talk."

Kim sat down, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me? You have ways to make me talk? Perhaps you should try that with a Nazi accent."

The leader sighed. "I apologize, Miss McLean. It has been a tiring few days, though that doesn't really excuse my behavior. But please give some thought to our circumstances." He cleared his throat. "We will leave you alone for a while, and hopefully, when we return you'll be ready to talk."

"I have an idea," Kim said in reply, "why don't you lot go away for a while, and hopefully, when you return you'll be ready to listen." The three men filed out, and Kim gave them the finger. She also turned a complete circle to be sure the cameras captured the image.

"Kim, what are you doing?"

"Shut up, Mel."

The elf sniffed and returned her attention to Tuki. But the moai was in no condition to be continuing their conversation. He alternated between staring at the door through which the men had left and gazing in despair at his hands. Kim guessed he was thinking about the skyglass. He made no reply to anything Meledrin asked him.

A few minutes later, Keeble was searching through the locker in the corner of the room. Pulling out boxes and books and shoving them back in.

"Keeble, why don't you and Tuki have a game of chess?" Kim reached past him and pulled a wooden chessboard from the top shelf.

When she turned to look at Meledrin, the elf sighed and translated. "He states that he is unaware of the rules," she said after he replied.

"Well, I'll show him."

She beckoned Tuki over to a table. He was reluctant to rise from his brooding but did as he was asked. Kim set the board up between the two of them. For the next half hour, with Meledrin's help, she ran through the rules and even played a game to let them get the idea. Then she watched while the two of them played against each other. It was slow going, but they both seemed to remember the rules enough to get by. What one didn't know, the other did.

"Keeble wishes to know who made this game," Meledrin said after a while, sounding bored. "He is enjoying its exact nature."

"You like exact, Keeble? You like things to be black and white?"

“[Well, yes. I think so.]” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “[But I like Rugby as well, you know the game where they stomp on each other and jump on each other. That isn't very exact, is it?]”

Kim laughed when she heard the translation. "That makes it a bit more like real life than chess, doesn't it? Nothing in real life is exact. There are always different ways to look at things. And life wouldn't be much fun if everyone agreed on everything." Kim looked at Meledrin as she continued. "On the other hand, it wouldn't be much fun if people couldn't politely acknowledge another person's point of view even though they don't agree with it."

Keeble cursed under his breath as Tuki took a pawn.

* * *

Several hours later, after four meals of hospital grade food had been brought, Airman Dongoske returned to the room. He didn't have the 'glass with him but was obviously intending to stay for a while.

"Have you come to resume the farce of questioning?"

Dongoske smiled. "Well, I've come to talk."

Kim raised her eyebrows.

"Just talk." Dongoske included the others in his gaze. "We sit here and see where conversations about current events take us."

"Well, that should be fun."

"Miss McLean, you really pissed the brass off around here. You could be smarter about things."

"And where's the fun in that?"

"For starters, you’d get out of here quicker."

"We won't be out of here before the war finishes, if your bosses have their way. And by then, they'll be on a number of planets and they can have all sorts of wars and excuses to keep us a while longer."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes. Look at Tuki. I don't believe he's capable of harming anyone, and yet he's in here with us. He had one possession of any value, I bet, and you didn't even have the decency to steal it while he was awake."

"He needed to be tested for diseases. He needed to be tested for resistance to our diseases."

"And then he needed to be robbed."

Dongoske sighed. "Kim —"

"Miss Mclean to you."

"Miss McLean, the skyglass needs to be tested."

"And how have you done so far?"

The Airman blushed. "We can't even turn it on. We've been through just about the entire vocabulary of Shoshone using a computer with no result."

"Did you think of asking Tuki? But no, that's silly: you stole the glass from him, so why would he tell you anything?"

"Kim. Miss McLean. I just —"

"Do what you're told? Don't all soldiers."

"We're under attack from aliens. We didn't provoke this, so we must simply do what we can to get safely through."

"Have any been captured alive?"

There was a momentary pause, a slight hesitation that told Kim everything she needed to know. "Not that I know of."

"Has anyone tried talking to them?"

"The aliens? There's no evidence they understand us, and besides, they attacked us for no reason."

Kim leaned forward in her chair. "I saw one spare an old woman, Dongoske. I saw one point its weapon at her and choose to turn away." She sighed and sat back, scratching at the table top with a fingernail. "We may not know what reason they have for attacking us, it may not be a reason we think is good enough, but they have a reason. They aren't monsters."

"Anyone who attacks us like they did deserves to be treated as such."

"We can't understand the motives of people on the other side of our own world, and you expect me to believe we can understand the motives of aliens?" Kim held up a stalling hand. "Airman, we could go around in circles with this all night. Why don't you tell us all something interesting?"

"Okay. Well, the giant statues on Easter Island? You know the ones?"

Kim pulled her thoughts away from the aliens and nodded. "Yeah, of course. In general."

"Well, they're called 'moai'."

"Tuki's people are called moai, right?"

Dongoske nodded. "But wait, there's more. My people, the Hopi Indians, who were based to the southeast of here, have legends about our ancestors arriving from other worlds by climbing up through holes in the ground. Our traditional religion is based around that idea with most ceremonies carried out in an underground chamber called a Kiva."

"Kiva is the name of Tuki's world," Meledrin said.

"Correct. So, suddenly, ancient legends take on a whole new light. Here we are, within a few meters of an underground gateway to a world called Kiva."

"But the Indian cultures aren't that old, are they?"

"They're a few thousand years old, but no, nowhere near the kind of timespans we're talking about here. We aren't saying that the Hopi really crossed from another world, but their legends had to start somewhere, and the coincidences are starting to build up. The predecessors of the Hopi were called the Anasazi, a word that means 'ancient ones' or 'lost ones' depending on who you ask."

"What about Roswell? That's around here somewhere, isn't it?"

Dongoske laughed. "Roswell is in New Mexico, not that close to here, but still within the Hopi and Anasazi regions. But, a spaceship did not crash there in 1954. A weather balloon crashed." He smiled at the look of disappointment on Kim's face. "However, when the Air Force went to investigate the claims of a spaceship crashing, they did come across something."

"A spaceship?"

Dongoske smiled some more. "Yes. It was made from an amazing material, some type of metal we've never seen. At least we think it's metal. It still looks brand new today. The bodies weren't inside the ship, but they were all protected in an almost airtight hangar. Those famous pictures of the creatures were real, but most of the public misunderstanding revolved around the fact that they thought the ship had just crashed. The bodies were dated at around fifty thousand years."

"Fifty thousand?"

"Yes. And who knows what that amount of time will do to a corpse in those conditions? Certainly no one around here. It wasn't until recently that we were able to discover for sure that they are — were — human."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. DNA testing and other stuff says they're human. In fact, they're probably more human than we are."

"How can you be more human than a human?"

"Two cars coming off a production line one after the other won't be exactly the same. They both look perfect, they both run perfect, but they're still different. Neither of them will match the plan, but one'll be closer than the other. We still don't know what the whole plan looks like with humans, but we know enough to know that nobody matches it perfectly."

"And those creatures were human?'

Dongoske pointed at Keeble. "About his size, actually. And we already know that Keeble, Meledrin, and Tuki are human as well. Though Tuki does have an extra layer in his skull but we'd need to examine it before we know anything for sure."

"I wouldn't even bother asking for permission if I was you. He won't mind." Kim smiled, and Dongoske ignored her.

"The others are also human."

"The others?"

Dongoske looked uncomfortable. "Some others from Tuki's world. We had a bit of a confrontation. It wasn't our fault though."

"Of course not."

"The point is, they're all human."

Kim turned to look at Keeble. "And what does that tell us?"

Dongoske shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Fair enough. But if there were people around fifty thousand years ago, wouldn't we have found more evidence?"

"Perhaps. But we now know that there are other habitable worlds out there. Who says these people lived here and not out there?" He gestured vaguely. "Maybe they just visited."

"So the earth was just one huge camping ground."

Dongoske laughed. "Perhaps. Perhaps. Or maybe they had only just discovered Earth and hadn't gotten around to settling it yet. There could be any number of reasons. They found those hobbit, halfling skeleton things in Indonesia a few years back. Who knows what else is just lying around waiting to be discovered."

Kim nodded. "I suppose. Is the Roswell ship here? Can I see it?"

Dongoske laughed. "Not a chance. I've never seen it. Very few people are allowed down there. Probably no more than a hundred people have seen it since it arrived."

"Awww, come on. What harm could it do? I wouldn't try to steal it or anything."

"Not while anyone was looking, anyway."

"Exactly."

"Maybe Meledrin or Tuki or Keeble can work out something about it. Well, Tuki or Keeble." She looked at the moai. "Maybe Keeble can work something out."

"We haven't been able to get into it, so unless he has the the keys? Or maybe he can pick the lock? I think we could pick the lock if we could find it." He shook his head. "You aren't going to see the ship, Kim. Change the subject."

22: Long Day

"Okay. What's happening on Sherindel?" Kim said. "Are you helping the elves?"

"How would I know, Miss McLean? You know it's unlikely my superiors will tell me anything, even if the British army is passing on intelligence. For all I know the elves and dwarves are fighting on their own."

At the mention of the word 'dwarves', amongst all the other babble, Kim saw Keeble pause in his mumbling and look at Dongoske. When the soldier said nothing more, the dwarf returned to his inspection of the wall.

"So," Kim said, trying to rein in her thoughts, "how long are we going to be kept here? I've no doubt you have no qualms about keeping enemies locked away without trial, but what about people who came to you and offered their help?" Kim didn't blame the Americans for what they were doing, but that didn't mean she had to like it. And it didn't mean she thought it was the absolute best course of action.

Dongoske returned Kim's gaze. "My superiors will lock up anyone, friend or foe, if they think it'll gain them an advantage in war. And we are at war, Kim, though it may not look like it most of the time."

"And the enemy is learning, Airman, aren't they?"

"Yes. Those bats of theirs can survive in a void, for hours at a time apparently. So now they just stay up in space and attack from there. They took out a lot of our satellites early on and now there isn't a lot we can do to retaliate, to tell you the truth. Not a lot that's having any success anyway."

"To tell me the truth? Surely you don't want to do that!"

"Kim, we are just doing what we have to do to survive."

"Yes, but the American definition of survival is different from that of any other people."

"You don't like us much, do you?"

"Nothing against Americans as individuals, a lot of great people — hell, I'm one myself half the time — but as a group, as a nation..." She left the thought unfinished.

"Do you want to know what Americans think of Australians?"

"Not a lot, I imagine. Too busy thinking of themselves." Kim smiled slightly. "Do you know why I left the army?"

Dongoske paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to answer. "I haven't read the reports in detail."

"I jumped before I was pushed. I have a problem with authority, Airman. I had a few confrontations with superior officers over the years. They generally started with me telling them they were idiots in one way or another. And to this day, I'm sure I was right every time." She paused and held up her hand. "Okay, not every time, but most of them. So, don't get me wrong, it isn't just America I have a problem with. Australia's as bad. As a group, Australians are a hypocritical self-centered mob, and the government is about as pathetic as they get, and we all know they can get pretty pathetic. It's just that the American government has my attention at the moment."

"We're saving the world here, Kim. Isn't that worth something?"

"Of course it is. It's worth a damn lot and a lot of people, including myself, would be willing to thank you for it. But how would you feel in my situation, Airman? How about I tell you. You'd be scared, tired, and pissed off. I went to your government to offer assistance, but nobody believes me." Kim paused for a moment and gestured to the others in the room. "You have three aliens in this room, Airman. Three people, humans apparently, that have so much to offer, and yet the first thing you do is lock them up. Did you ever think that they might do everything they can to help of their own free will? That all of us would? Keeble is probably over there trying to work out if he'd rather be ruled by us or the aliens."

Meledrin spoke. "Actually, he is trying to work out whether he should stay in this room or go somewhere else. It is quite a heated discussion he is having."

Airman Dongoske smiled, seeming to relish this interruption. "And where would he go?"

"Anywhere, I would think. He loves caves, Airman, but has decided that your people did not make these ones and that they have tainted them."

"He really says that?"

"Yes."

"And how does he know?"

"These are caves, Airman. Stone. And Keeble is a dwarf. More than that I cannot explain. More than that does not need to be explained."

* * *

Kim knew it probably wasn't a good idea to fight with Airman Dongoske. She quite liked the man, but he was working for her captors. And she was tired and scared and pissed off. She had every right to be. If the Australian or British governments were holding her, she'd feel exactly the same way and would shout just as loudly. She could see how the situation might look to them — the world was being attacked, and they couldn't risk any resource being wasted — but it didn't make her feel better.

Dongoske had hung around and chatted for an hour. When it became obvious he wasn't going to get a lot of useful information, he left. Perhaps she was supposed to think there was no reason to hide anything and that Dongoske was her friend.

When Dongoske and his superiors returned early the next morning, Kim had just about had enough. Tuki rose from his position on the floor and walked over to one of the beds, the only seat large enough to accommodate him comfortably. Meledrin reluctantly made room, moving slightly to let him sit in the corner. But Kim wasn't going to let this continue.

"Meledrin, tell Tuki that, no matter what question's asked, he's to answer with the words 'I won't say anything else until I speak with my lawyer'."

"Why?"

"Just tell him to do that. And you do the same thing."

"'I will not say anything else until I speak with my lawyer'?"

"That's right."

"I know what a lawyer is, Kim, but Tuki does not have a word to match."

"Legal representative? Law makers' conduit, maybe. I don't know. Use the word 'lawyer'. I don't care, just think of something."

"Very well. And who is our lawyer? Do we have a lawyer?"

"I have a lawyer friend in Seattle. Well, he's not a friend yet, but if I got him involved in this case he would be my friend for life." There was no such person, but nobody else knew that. Or perhaps they did know — she was dealing with the government of the United States, after all.

General Hilliard shook his head. "Miss McLean, a Washington State lawyer is not allowed to practice in Nevada without the proper papers."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure he knows enough to advise us. And he'll probably know some other lawyer we can use." Kim smiled. "I assume this is going to be a long day," she said, making a great show of getting comfortable.

"All right," the General held up a placating hand. "As a show of faith, we'll return the Skyglass to Tuki."

Kim laughed. "So, you've had absolutely no luck with the thing and hope Tuki will use it and show you what you're doing wrong? You're so tricky, General."

"What would you like me to do, Miss McLean? I have the feeling you'll twist anything we do to your own advantage."

"Well, General, I have to take every advantage I can get."

"Think what you like, Miss McLean." He left the room with Dongoske and the other man close behind. A soldier brought the glass ball in a moment later and carefully set it on the table on a little polished brass stand. Tuki had the ball in hand before the man exited.

Kim hurried over and laid a restraining hand on his.

She glanced around, as if she'd be able to see those who were watching, or pick out the listening devices. "How does the ball work, Tuki?" she asked in the moai's language. Even though she whispered she was pretty sure the Americans would hear. But she figured that speed and clarity might be more useful than keeping her language abilities secret. The Americans probably wouldn't believe she could really speak Shoshone anyway. She could hardly believe it herself, but it almost felt as natural as speaking English.

"You ask it questions, and the Mother Blower speaks back through it."

The skyglass was growing warm. Kim quickly took her hand away. "You have to physically speak to it?"

"Yes. Well, I think so."

Kim looked around the room again then quickly dragged one bed across to the other and lined them up. It scraped and juddered across the stone floor.

I hope that was deafening in somebody's earphones. That thought made her think of checking under the beds for bugs. She probably wouldn't know one if she saw it anyway. That done, she had Tuki lift the table up onto the beds.

"You sit here, Tuki," Kim said, indicating a spot on the floor between the beds and under the table, then positioned the moai so his back was to the rest of the room. His head almost brushed the table. Kim and Meledrin then sat on each of the beds.

"What are we doing?" Meledrin asked.

"They have cameras in here," Kim explained. "Little windows that they can look through. Normally the cameras will be in the corners of the room, up near the ceiling, because it's the spot that gives best coverage with the least cameras. I'm just trying to make it so they can't see the skyglass thingy. And if we talk quietly enough, maybe they won't be able to hear, either. Hopefully."

Kim looked around but there was not a lot more she could do. "Wait a sec'. Lift up this end of the table, Tuki." The lad reached up above his head and easily lifted the table, allowing Kim to remove the sheet and blankets from one of the beds. She used that as a curtain to hide their activities completely from the room. Keeble crept into the protected area with them, like a little boy when a castle was being built. Meledrin scowled at the dwarf, but Kim patted a spot on the bed beside her and he sat down there.

"Show us what it does, Tuki."

The young man nodded. "On."

Kim watched as the globe started to glow softly. After a few moments, a detailed image of the Earth appeared. Kim examined it closely. There wasn't a lot to see that she didn't expect to see. Continents and oceans. Transparent, moving cloud formations. But there was something: three blue crosses. One in the southern United States, which was right beside a blue dot, one in England, and one in South America, somewhere along the western coast.

Tuki said, "Back," and the image shrank to include a large area of space and a few dozen yellow dots.

Tuki nodded. "Airman Dongoske said that the yellow dots are 'alien mother ships'. The blue dot is the skyglass. I do not know what the crosses are."

"Tuki, can you show us your own world?"

He could and he did. "Kiva," he said. Yellow dots swarmed around the other world as well.

Meledrin then asked him to show Sherindel, and he obliged, bringing it up in the 'glass.

"Show us a solar system, Tuki."

"Pardon?"

Kim spoke directly to the skyglass. "Sol," she said, trying to sound authoritative. Nothing happened. "A solar system is one star surrounded by a group of planets. Ours here is called Sol. So say Sol."

Again Tuki obliged, but nothing happened.

"Shit. Earth." Kim said. Nothing.

"I think that perhaps your world was not always called Earth," Tuki said. "I could not get it to work." Then he said, "Centre," and Earth was visible again.

Kim tried again. She touched the glass lightly and said, "Back." Nothing. Tuki repeated the word.

Kim shook her head as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Perhaps knowing the words isn't enough," she said quietly. Maybe it's that extra layer in his skull. "I don't know. No wonder our hosts aren't having any luck." She smiled slightly. Small consolation.

Tuki said back two more times until the 'glass was showing a tiny yellow spot in the center that could only be a sun and eight other spots that could only be planets minus Pluto. Maybe. Each of the planets had a list of data beside it, as did the star, but Kim couldn't read any of it. Apparently Tuki could read numbers there, but letters were beyond him. Kim tried to explain her thoughts.

Nobody could disagree. They just stared at her blankly. Tuki was the only one who really understood the nature of stars and planets. So Kim tried to explain a bit about that as well, whispering in Tuki's language. And she tried to explain a bit about the universe. The other two were still back in the dark ages, but Keeble, obviously understanding every word, nodded and wrinkled his brow in concentration. Kim still didn't know a lot of the words she wanted to use.

When she was done talking, Kim turned her attention back to the skyglass.

"Go outwards," Kim said to Tuki. "Show us more. Show us lots of stars."

The moai spoke and the planets disappeared to be replaced by a cluster of stars.

Kim was completely lost. She couldn't even find the sun. There were dozens of them, but they all had lists beside them, and Kim surmised that there was only so much relevant information about stars that somebody might list.

Kim asked Tuki to find the Earth's sun and read out the numbers listed beside it.

He somehow found it amongst the spread of stars. Ignoring the letters he said: "8, 2, 2, 5."

Kim made a guess. "There are eight worlds in our solar system. Well, that depends on who you're asking, but anyway. I think that first number is telling us how many worlds there are." She found another star with the same symbol on the first line. "That one will have eight worlds as well," she said.

Tuki knew the name of the star, so he quickly zoomed in for a closer look. Kim gave a little cheer. She was right. They tried ten more times to be sure and met with success on every occasion.

That was the last victory. They moved back to the Sol system where Kim had more information to work from, but she could decipher nothing. If the skyglass had been made tens of thousand of years ago like Tuki suggested, then anything she knew would be so far out of date anyway. The numbers could mean a dozen things, each as plausible as the other. Or as implausible.

It wasn't until a meal was brought in on trays an hour later that Kim realized the Americans must've been following their conversation. They wouldn't have been allowed to hide for that long otherwise. She swore to herself as she chewed on a salad sandwich.

When the meal was done, Kim led the others back into the fort, though she was sure it wouldn't do any good. She leaned over and whispered in Meledrin's ear, hardly more than a breath. "We have to get out of here."

"Are they not going to help us?"

That depended on your definition of 'help'. Kim didn't answer.

"And how are we to get out?"

Kim sat back and shrugged. She hadn't thought things through. Then she whispered again. "I suppose all we can do is jump whoever comes in here next."

"And the men they leave outside the door?"

"Okay. Well, we will have to jump the person who comes in as they come in, so the door is still open. Then we have a hostage."

Meledrin just raised a long, thin eyebrow.

"Have you got a better idea?"

"I do not think Tuki would be any use in this plan of yours. His people do not even kill base animals."

"There are still three of us."

"Against trained fighting men with weapons?"

"We can't stay here, Meledrin. We'll never be let out."

"Well, perhaps these Americans have a right to do what is best for the many."

"Of course they do. And we have the right to try to get out of here. We can still give them information if we're in Canada or Mexico or something."

"Perhaps."

Kim grunted in disgust. "You think they're worried about Sherindel, do you? They'll forget about your world until it's convenient for them to do something about it. And then it won't be long before humans own your world as well. It's not just the Americans who are like this, most of the world is." Kim didn't believe the first half of what she was saying. The Americans would help Sherindel as much as they could, as would the Brits and anyone else. But the second part she didn't doubt at all. Humans from all around the world would soon be rushing to get their hands on real estate and resources on the newly discovered worlds. But she was pissed off and really wanted to get out. She'd say whatever she had to. Just like the Americans. Shit

"Very well, then. Let us try." But the elf still didn't seem convinced.

Kim didn't care. She whispered the plan, such as it was, to Tuki and Keeble. Tuki looked shocked, almost dropping the skyglass. Keeble smiled and nodded.

* * *

Nobody returned before the lights went out.

Kim swore and lay down on a bed. She was still lying there a few hours later, a lifetime away from sleep and staring into the darkness, when something happened.

She stilled her breathing and tried to slow her racing heart. The darkness was all but complete, so she strained to hear.

"What?" A strong hand clamped over her mouth. She was ready to fight in an instant, but the cold press of a blade against her throat stopped her.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her clothes were soaked with sweat in an instant. Instincts were still telling her to fight, but she remained motionless.

"Miss McLean, you must be quiet." The man released his grip.

"Dongoske?" she said around ragged breaths.

"Of course. Who else did you expect? I've come to get you out of here."

"What?" Kim sat up slowly. Though Dongoske was barely a meter from her, she couldn't see anything.

"My ancestors would not want you to be kept here. I have ignored the spirits of the Hopi long enough to know when I should listen."

Kim thought it was a pretty corny as far as excuses went. She doubted the Hopi had much to do with this at all, but she'd play along, for the moment. "Ok. Let's get going then. I'll wake the others."

But they were already awake. Meledrin explained what was happening to the two men, and they all made their way silently to the door. Kim collected her pack and adjusted the shoulder straps so Tuki could carry it.

"I'd carry it myself, but I may need to act quickly."

The lad nodded as if that was only to be expected.

Outside, a soft light filled the corridor. Dongoske checked their surroundings before turning to speak. "Follow in single file. First person about two meters behind me. Kim, you last."

"Why?"

"Because I can understand you well enough to know what you're thinking. And you can keep an eye on them."

Kim didn't trust Dongoske at all but figured, one way or the other, he was their best chance of getting out. She would follow until an opportunity arose.

23: Escape

Meledrin followed Kim and Airman Dongoske into the hallway. She was pleased to be moving again, though she wished it were Kim leading the way instead of the human saveigni. She commenced a Beginning but changed her mind and wove a Greater Beginning instead.

Meledrin longed to see trees and sky once more. She longed to hear something other than the hum of mankind. Keeble added to the hum himself, mumbling, running his fingers along the swirling pattern of the walls. Tuki was as quiet as always. He knew what was proper.

"Where are we going?" Keeble whispered in Tuki's language as they waited near an intersection several minutes after leaving the cell.

Meledrin had been surprised earlier when she discovered Kim had been able to quickly learn Tuki’s language. To then discover that Keeble could understand it as well had been truly shocking. She shook her head in displeasure.

Kim shrugged. "I don't know. We're just following Dongoske."

"Do you think he'll lead us out of here? Or into a trap."

Tuki watched it all as if nothing surprised him.

"He'll lead us out."

"What the hell?"

Meledrin turned to examine Airman Dongoske. He was standing in the middle of the hall, mouth hanging open like a saveigni who had found himself present at a bathing ritual.

"What?" Kim asked in reply. A small smile was playing at the edges of her mouth.

"You both speak Shoshone?"

"You should talk to your superiors a bit more often."

"You've spoken it all along and said nothing?"

Kim shook her head. "Nope. I don't know about Keeble, but I learned it after talking with Tuki."

"That's impossible."

"You keep saying that, Dongoske," Kim said with another smile, this one in Keeble's direction, "despite evidence to the contrary."

"You can't just learn a language like that," Dongoske insisted.

"Once I started listening, and concentrating, I found it was impossible not to learn. It was like a missing part of my mind fell back into place and everything was as it should have been. Perhaps it's a genetic thing."

"'Genetic thing'?" Dongoske shook his head. "If it was a genetic thing, everyone would be able to learn the language as easily as you have."

"Perhaps they can."

"Then why don't they?"

"Perhaps they don't really want to. Perhaps they haven't concentrated. You can't tell me General Hilliard has made any attempt at all to learn? You speak the language, so what more does he need, right?"

Meledrin joined the conversation then, clearing her throat as she looked between the two humans. "This is all extremely interesting, I am sure, but should we not discuss it at some later time, in some other location?"

Kim agreed. "Let's get out of here."

Dongoske grunted and nodded.

Kim looked around. "So, where are we going?"

That worried Meledrin, Kim not even knowing where they were going. The surrounding stone was weighing on her mind, and she wanted someone she trusted to know what was happening. The soldier did not answer. He merely beckoned for them to follow and moved down the next passage.

As far as Meledrin could tell, there was no pattern to the route Airman Dongoske followed, but they traversed the hallways silently for a long time before coming into contact with anyone else. Rounding a corner, they discovered two men standing guard on either side of a closed door. Meledrin felt herself shoved aside as Kim charged at the two men. With a curse, Dongoske attacked as well. The guards stood still for a moment, shocked. By the time they thought to reach for the weapons at their belts, it was too late.

Slightly bemused, Meledrin watched as Kim kicked one man in the groin and struck the other in the throat. Airman Dongoske didn't even take part in the action.

"Jesus! Are they all right?" Dongoske asked when Kim had finished.

"Are they all right? I thought you wanted us to get out of here?" Kim wrung her hand and grimaced in pain. "Shit, that hurt."

Meledrin felt like pointing out that she could quite easily let the men handle the sweaty hand-to-hand violence and save herself the embarrassment. But the two humans were talking, so she remained silent.

"Well, yes." Dongoske looked guiltily at the two fallen men. "You know, I'd rather not kill anyone."

"They aren't dead, Airman. I know what I'm doing."

"I find that hard to believe."

"And I find it hard to believe we're still standing here. Either lead the way or piss off."

"Come on then."

Meledrin sniffed her displeasure, but everyone ignored her so she was forced to follow the man again.

She weaved an Action.

Dongoske watched the two downed men as he went past. Kim watched Dongoske.

From that point, the journey became more difficult. The sounds of humans became louder and more frequent. Before, everything had been softly lit, now bright lights cut through the dimness from under doors or through windows.

Near one side passage Airman Dongoske grabbed Meledrin by the arm. She squealed slightly, unable to control her shock, but the man pulled her through an open doorway before Meledrin could shake loose his strong grip.

"How dare you touch me."

"What? Shut up, there's someone there."

"I will not shut up. If you lay hands on me again, I will have no choice but to —"

Another hand grabbed her arm. Meledrin spun about to see Kim standing with a finger pressed to her lips. "If you don't shut up," Kim whispered, "none of us will have any choices."

The sound of the footsteps slowed, then paused. The voices of two men trailed away. Meledrin held her breath. A moment later the two humans in the passageway moved on again.

"If you touch me again," Meledrin said quietly, "I will kill you."

Airman Dongoske flapped his jaw wordlessly, then shook his head and went back out into the hall. Kim said nothing, but as Meledrin straightened her clothes and muttered a Changing to calm her nerves, she could feel the woman's stare. She brushed the memory of the man's touch from her arm and followed him through the door.

They continued on, darting across brightly lit or open spaces like thieves. For all their caution, pausing at each corner to listen, waiting in shadows, they didn't go far before finding trouble once more.

Meledrin walked quickly around a corner and found herself staring at the hairless chest of a heavily muscled, shirtless man. He was not much taller than she was, but he seemed much larger. They both stood staring for a moment before Keeble blundered around the corner and almost knocked Meledrin into the stranger's arms. The human broke eye contact as Keeble swore.

"Whistler's wart, woman, what's the holdup?"

Kim rounded the corner and did not hesitate at all. Her cocked shoulder struck the stranger in the solar plexus as she charged forward. They both grunted with the impact, but the man was driven back into the wall. A moment later he lay on the ground groaning, and Kim finished the fight with a short sharp blow. Before she had even straightened, trying to shake the pain from her fist, she was speaking.

"Come on, let's keep moving. Come on Tuki and Keeble, we have to move."

They continued down the hall, running now, still in single file. Dongoske glanced up at the ceiling at one point, as they crouched in the shadows and waited for a human to pass. Meledrin wondered if he was seeking the help of his gods or if it was some human trait that she had not yet experienced. She thought to ask Kim what the action meant, but did not have the chance. They were moving forwards again.

They dashed across the passage then stopped outside a door, and Dongoske held a cautionary finger to his lips.

"Through here," he whispered, "is a guardroom. Two men. Armed, but not expecting anything. We'll have to take them quickly, but we should be safe. You sure you want to do this? They'll kill you, they'll kill us, if they get the chance."

Kim nodded. "Do it."

"Me first. You in seven, six, five..." Dongoske opened the door and strolled in like he was supposed to be there. He left the door open behind him.

Meledrin counted down slowly in her head, as seemed to be expected, but did not follow Kim into the conflict when the time counted down. She followed slowly and saw the woman kick a man in the stomach twice in quick succession. Dongoske had the other man against a wall with a weapon pointed at his face.

"Kim, stop. Roger, step back with your hands on top of your head or I shoot."

"You won't shoot." The man, hunching over slightly, stepped away from Kim with his hands up.

"Try me."

Meledrin sat down in a cold metal chair, straightening her dress. Changing. It was a small room with lockers around the walls and a pair of metal doors almost completely filled the far wall of the room. There were two buttons nearby.

Meledrin watched Tuki standing in the corner, clutching the skyglass protectively. Keeble started talking to himself again. He was examining the wall. His fingers touched at the stone delicately.

"I could Sing a Song and walk out of here," he said softly in his own language. "A moment, and I would be away from here, on my own. I could tunnel as far as I wanted in a moment, and just walk away."

Meledrin listened as Keeble started to hum tunelessly. He slowly built a wall of sounds, clicking and tapping and making other strange noises. As the sound grew, Meledrin thought she could feel a pressure in her head, a tingle down her spine.

Meledrin watched, spellbound, as Keeble raised his left arm. But when the metal of his mechanical hand touched the stone, he shuddered, convulsed, and took a step back. The wall of sound he had been building collapsed. He looked at the stump of his hand. "No," he said eventually, shaking his head. "There is nothing I can do."

Meledrin shuddered as well, shaking off the feeling of power. "I know I have been in bad company too long when I start to imagine dwarfish magic."

Kim and Airman Dongoske had been talking, but when Meledrin spoke, Kim turned to face her.

"What was that?"

"Pardon?"

"What did you say?"

"I merely stated that I need to rest, because I am suddenly imagining strange things."

"You noticed it too?"

"What?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't really notice it until it was gone. It was like a cool breeze on my consciousness."

"We both need to rest, it would seem."

"Or maybe we both really felt something. What was it, do you think?"

Meledrin was reluctant to voice her opinion on the matter. It was ridiculous. But Kim seemed to like ridiculous ideas. "I was under the impression that whatever was happening was caused by Keeble."

"Keeble?"

"That is correct."

Meledrin watched as Kim called to the dwarf. He did not reply. He seemed to take no notice at all, continuing to talk to himself in his own language.

"Mel, what's he saying?"

"In the first instance, he said that he could construct a tunnel in but a moment and be away from here. But most recently he stated that there is no action that he is able to take. Since then, it seems that he has been arguing with himself."

"Ask him?"

"You are capable of asking. He speaks the language of the moai."

"But he doesn't appear to be listening. Ask him in his own language."

"Question him of what?"

"About how the hell he was going to dig a tunnel in a couple of seconds."

When she turned, Meledrin discovered that Keeble had sat on another metal chair. He was examining his mechanical hand, winding the gears. He adjusted the leather straps that held the contraption to his arm.

"Keeble cannot be trusted," Meledrin told Kim. "It would be a more sensible course of action if we followed Airman Dongoske."

"Ask him."

Meledrin sniffed. She did not appreciate being spoken to like a saveigni. "Keeble, are you able to get us out of this place?"

He looked up for a moment. "Maybe." He wound the gears on his hand. "But..."

"Our world is being attacked, Keeble, and these Americans worry only about themselves."

"And why shouldn't they worry about themselves? Dwarves have never been too worried about helping other people, either. Nor elves, from what I know of them."

"You can facilitate our escape if you wish, and yet you refuse to do so?"

"Well, maybe I was just going to do it later when you weren't around."

Kim interrupted. "Well?"

"The breeze on your consciousness was not Keeble. Merely coincidence. He can do nothing."

Kim turned to glare at the dwarf. "Keeble, can you get us out of here?"

"No."

Kim sighed. "Well then, we'll just have to follow the good Airman here. He says that when we get off the lift, we'll be about fifty meters from the surface, but there's another guard station in the way."

"Will we be able to make our way past?"

"Without being seen?" Kim said. "No. Wouldn't be a very helpful guard post otherwise. But we have guns, so we are just going to run out there and threaten to kill somebody."

"Will that prove to be successful?"

"In most circumstances it wouldn't, but in this one it will."

Dongoske had finished tying the two guards with sticking tape and turned to join the conversation. "Why is that? Why will it work?"

It was a moment before Kim answered. "Because we're coming at them from behind. They won't be expecting an attack from inside the complex."

Meledrin could tell she was lying, but Dongoske nodded grudgingly. "Of course," he said. He picked up a weapon and handed it to Kim, who did something to it, releasing a small section and snapping it back into place. The American continued. "Let's go then. When the lift doors open at the top, you all stay out of sight. Well, just stay by the door and watch silently. All right?"

"Wait," Kim said. "I have a better idea."

"What?" Dongoske asked.

Kim stepped smoothly forward and pointed her weapon at the American's head. "For a start, you put down the gun."

"What? What the hell are you doing?"

"I want to thank you and General Hilliard for your help, but I'll be able to take it from here."

Meledrin tried to work out what was going on. Was Kim suggesting that General Hilliard knew of the escape and approved?

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Airman Dongoske said.

"Don't bother." Kim motioned with her chin. "Mel, get the tape for his hands."

"You won't shoot me."

Kim did something and the weapon made a loud click.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

Meledrin didn't think he looked scared at all, but he was slowly crouching down to discard his weapon. Except that was not what he was going to do. Meledrin saw the movement a moment before Dongoske lashed out with the handle of his weapon. She called out, softly, but Kim was already moving. The woman twisted away from the blow aimed at the top edge of her hipbone. She grunted with pain, but struck back, attacking Airman's Dongoske's jaw with the heel of her hand. Neither of them was willing to use their weapons in the intended method. Kim used the handle, as her opponent had, and he fell limply to the floor.

Meledrin smoothed out her dress as if she'd been the one involved in the combat. "The escape was a ruse?" Meledrin said.

Kim nodded. She was breathing heavily and sweating.

She collected the tape that Meledrin had ignored earlier and used it to bind Airman Dongoske's feet. He started to struggle before his hands were secure as well, but Meledrin stepped in to assist, even going down on her knees to grab his flailing fists. She grabbed one of his wrists in both her hands and twisted. Not too much, but just enough. He went suddenly still, grimacing with pain but not willing to react lest she decide to complete the maneuver.

"You do not lay your hands on a woman without her permission," Meledrin hissed in his face. "Under any circumstances."

Kim bound his wrists while Meledrin spoke an Ending.

"How stupid do you think I am, Dongoske? Jesus, did you and the General really think I'd fall for it? And do you really think I'd go around attacking elite American soldiers if I thought they'd be serious about fighting back?"

Airman Dongoske grunted and laid his head on the floor. "You're just making it hard for yourself, Kim, and you know it. How far do you think you'll get?"

Kim shrugged. "I guess we're about to find out. Come on you lot, let's get out of here." She taped the mouths of the three soldiers and pressed one of the buttons on the wall.

The two big doors slid open and they entered the lift. Kim was swearing before the doors had even closed.

"What is the matter?"

Kim sighed. "We want to go down, but we need a key for that."

"Down?"

"Yes."

"But are we not trying to escape from this complex. Going down will merely take us further from the surface."

"Yeah, well apparently I have a problem with authority even when it's making me do exactly what I wanted to do." She hit the wall. "Stupid damn lift. Up it is then."

But as she was reaching out to press one of the buttons on the wall, Keeble reached past and pressed a different one. The doors opened, and Keeble marched back out into the room.

"Keeble, where are you going?" Meledrin asked. She wanted to be away from this place. She wanted to see the sky. She wanted to breathe fresh air.

"Come on, Keeble," Kim said, stabbing at a button to keep the doors open. "I want to go down, but up is the second best option."

The dwarf stepped over airman Dongoske, who rolled onto his back to watch, and started going through some cupboards. He didn't find what he was after, apparently, for he went out the door into the hallway. Meledrin noticed that Kim was staring after him stupidly. Apparently chasing him was not part of her plans, but she had just started to do so when he returned with a small plastic box in his hands.

"There's a utility closet just down the hall," he explained. He returned to the elevator, set the box down, and opened it up. There were all manner of tools inside. He selected one, waited for Kim to release the button she was still holding, and went to work on a small panel close by. "I think we are going to have some company very soon." He was seemingly more lucid than he had been for a long time. Perhaps the prospect of manual labor had calmed him.

Kim swore again, and Meledrin waved her fingers in a Greater Changing.

24: Deeper

Kim watched for a couple of minutes as Keeble worked on the elevator. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" she asked. She could imagine half the personnel in the complex gathering in the small room outside.

The dwarf had a screwdriver in his mouth but answered anyway. "This is just like a computer. I pulled one of them apart in Colin's office. And I talked about them on the plane."

Kim shook her head. "I could pull the thing apart too, doesn't mean it would do anything after I put it back together."

But Keeble snapped the panel closed and pushed the down button. The lift started to move. Kim smiled and stopped herself just before she ruffled his hair. "Way to go."

"So why do you wish to go down?" Meledrin asked from her spot in the corner.

"Three reasons. A spaceship, a captured alien, and because Hilliard didn't want me to."

Meledrin sniffed and Kim shrugged in reply.

The journey down didn't take long. When the doors opened, Kim expected to be confronted by a dozen armed men. There was only one, and he looked slightly surprised. Hadn't they worked out what she was doing?

"Ahhh, hi," Kim said. "Don't move." The problem was, she said it in Tuki's language. She said everything in Tuki's language unless she thought about it first. While she raised the gun, she gave the instructions again in English. "Don't move."

It didn't look as if the young man was about to disobey.

"Take me to your alien," Kim said.

He swallowed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've only been beyond this room a couple of times. I don't know where the alien is, exactly, but I know there are more guards and more security systems to get through before you can get to it."

Kim shrugged. "Well, this next door will have to do for now."

The guard nodded before using a key and scanning his hand on a panel beside the door. Kim took the key and led the others through into the hall beyond. Still no people. Tuki didn't say anything but nervously adjusted the pack on his back while he gazed into the gloom. Kim knew how he felt.

Keeble was still carrying his toolbox, gripping it in the metal prongs of his left hand. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

Kim looked over her shoulder at the guard and asked the question in English.

"They have better things to do than stand around in hallways, I suppose," he said.

"But that's what guards are made for," Kim said.

He shrugged. "If you can get through everything above, a couple more down here won't make all that much difference."

"How long until some arrive?"

"A couple of minutes." He looked over his shoulder as the elevator doors closed and the lift started to go back up. "Or less."

Kim let the door close. "Right." She looked back down the hall and hefted her gun. Surely this wasn't part of Hilliard's plan. How was she supposed to tell? "Damn it. Can you fix this door, Keeble?"

The dwarf immediately set to work, awkwardly working his hand loose so he could put the tools down. He undid four screws on a panel beside the door and carefully placed everything in a pile on the floor. He scratched his head and muttered to himself as he looked carefully amongst the wires and circuits in the wall. Then he took up some pliers, reached carefully into the hole, and ripped out and cut everything he could grab in one go. For good measure he smashed a circuit board as well.

"Huh." Kim was so hyped up and expecting everything to be nearly impossible that she wouldn't have thought of something so simple. "Will that work?"

Keeble shrugged. He didn't look particularly happy. "Can't see why not." He looked into the hole as if thinking maybe he could have found the one correct wire to do the job. "I'm not an expert on that type of thing."

"You fixed the elevator."

"Yeah, but it took me a few minutes. I didn't have time for fiddling here."

Meledrin sniffed, though Kim thought it was probably more out of habit than anything else.

"Right," Kim said. "Of course. Come on then."

Heart pounding, she led the way quickly down the hallway, stalking through the soft light. Tuki and Keeble, tool box in hand again, crept along behind like boys playing hide and seek while Meledrin came at a leisurely stroll. Colors and patterns swirled through the walls, and there was a slight rut along the center of the floor. The air was heavy and still. There were no people.

"There should be more people," Kim muttered.

"Is it night time?" Tuki asked softly, looking around as if he expected the missing people to magically appear at any moment.

According to Kim's watch it was just after midnight, but she would've expected this place to be buzzing with activity at all hours. With the war going on above there was no time for resting.

There were Tuki-sized brown metal doors off either side of the passage, and Kim checked a couple at random. She didn't expect to find anything significant in such a nondescript location and wasn't disappointed. Quiet, dark offices. Neat storage rooms. A kitchen.

Before she closed the door on this last room, Kim called Tuki forward. She took the pack off his back, tossed out most of the clothes and filled the newly created space with tins of nonperishable food and bottled water. The odds of them needing the supplies were slim but it was no use getting onto the spaceship if they just had to let Hilliard in tomorrow when they got thirsty.

Kim could hardly lift the pack, but the moai had no trouble.

When they finally saw someone else, they found the spaceship. A tired looking woman with wisps of loose hair and a crumpled white coat stepped out through a door. She was examining papers on an overloaded clipboard and didn't see them as Kim ducked down a branching passage with her companions close behind. And when footsteps came in their direction, they opened another door and slipped into the room beyond.

Holding her breath, Kim listened at the door. "I don't think she's coming this way," she whispered. For a moment, nobody replied.

Eventually, Meledrin said, "I am wondering if that is the ship for which we are searching."

Kim turned to look around her. There was no spaceship. "Pardon?" The room was long and narrow, barely two meters across and almost completely filled by a gallery of chairs that looked out through a window. Tuki had taken off the pack and was sitting, but Keeble and Meledrin were both standing beyond that.

"I have never seen a spaceship," Meledrin said, "unless those bats count. But I believe that could well be one." The elf pointed out through the window.

"I think she could be right. It's a bit like a plane, but not really."

But by that stage Kim could already see. She leaned against the window as if every centimeter could make the difference. Tuki went to stand a small distance away, looking silently down into the room. The ship was about the size of a small bus and shaped something like an egg sliced length wise, small end forward. There were two stubby wings and a tall pointed tail. It squatted low to the ground on four articulated legs. Spotlights and scaffolding tied it in a web of shadows.

Kim thought it would have people crawling all over it, but the room was empty of life.

"It isn't very big, is it?" Keeble said.

"No, not really."

Meledrin sniffed. "It is large enough."

"Are we going to steal it?" Keeble wound the gears on his hand.

"Steal it? How the hell would we get out?"

"Well, they got it in there," Keeble said.

"I do not believe it is a good idea to give her any ideas, Keeble."

Kim followed the dwarf's gaze upwards. Far above, probably at ground level, she guessed, was what looked like a trapdoor. She smiled.

"Come on. We can spring the alien, then steal the ship." Why not?

Keeble was nodding as if it were all a foregone conclusion. He collected his tool kit from near his feet and headed for the door.

"I do not think it is worth the risk."

"What are they going to do?" Kim asked. "Kill us?"

"Perhaps."

Maybe they would. Kim wasn't sure, but she was going to find out. She licked her lips.

"So why do we need the alien?" Keeble asked. "I thought Dongoske said it was a human ship."

"He did, but I want to talk to the alien and find out what the hell is going on."

Tuki followed Kim out of the room without complaint or question. He'd probably been following women without question all his life and wasn't about to change now. Kim didn't really care if Meledrin followed at this stage, though she doubted the elf would go off on her own.

"We need some stairs or a lift," Kim said once she was back out in the main passage. There were no doors leading directly into the hangar from this level, but there were several others on the other side of the hall. The second door contained a stairwell.

Keeble started through. "No. We should look for the alien up here first. Come on."

But it was just more offices and more utility rooms, so a few minutes later they made their way down to the next level. Straight away there was more activity. When Kim opened the door, she found herself face to face with the same harried woman who had almost caught them earlier. They both stared stupidly for a moment.

Kim reacted first, grabbing her and dragging her through the door. Keeble slammed it shut behind them, hopefully cutting off her shout.

"Shut up," Kim said, centimeters from her face. She said it in Tuki's language first then again a moment later in English, but the woman kept shouting. Kim slapped her. That did the job. Kim didn't know what she would have done next. Punching her didn't seem right. "You got any tape in that box of tricks, Keeble?"

He did, and he put it to use binding the woman's hands and feet. Kim apologized before gagging her as well.

Out in the hall she checked both ways then picked a direction at random. More offices. A mess hall with a tired looking soldier.

Kim faltered, swallowed. "Ahh, was Brian here?"

The soldier shook his head and Kim got out of there as quickly as she could.

"Who is Brian?" Meledrin asked.

"Don't worry about it."

Sleeping quarters next, with the sounds of snoring. Then a blank wall.

Back the other way, well past the end of the hangar, Kim checked another door, opening it up and poking her head through. More soldiers. And she knew immediately that she wasn't talking her way out of this one. The guards here, closer to the important stuff, were more experienced and more alert. They were on their feet in an instant, weapons drawn.

"Put down your weapon," one of them shouted as his three companions spread out.

It took Kim a moment to sort through the English words and work out what he was actually saying. She got the point anyway.

"Put it down now."

Keeble was ready to fight but Kim held him back. The guards looked serious. One of them had an edgy look that made Kim's heart pound even faster. Her finger was well away from the trigger and the safety was on. But they weren't to know that, so she slowly, carefully, did as she was asked.

She cleared her throat. "I don't think General Hilliard is going to be very happy with us."

"Was he ever happy?" the dwarf asked vaguely.

"Good point," Kim replied. "It was fun while it lasted though."

She shifted her focus past the guards to examine the rest of the room. It was big — twenty meters to a side, at least — and was full of a lot of busy looking people. There were a dozen or more scientists of one kind or another working at computers and consoles plus a couple of dozen soldiers who, until a moment ago, had been checking their equipment. Now all those serious looking men and women were starting to relax after realizing the excitement by the door was under control.

"Brian may be amongst these people," Meledrin said softly, "but I am not sure she will be able to assist us, whoever she is."

Kim took a moment to start thinking in English again so she could talk to the Americans. "I should probably let you know there's some lady tied up in the stairwell."

"Jack, go and check it out. All of you, shut up and get into the corner." They shifted so Jack could slip out.

"So what happens now?" Kim asked the Americans while trying to keep an eye on Keeble.

Apparently that wasn't immediately obvious.

Keeble was muttering to himself. "There's another gate through there," he said.

"You mean the gate to the other world?" Kim said, shocked out of her nervousness. "How do you know it's there?" There were five other doors in the room, and Keeble was looking at the largest of them, on the wall opposite the hangar. It didn't look very special, apart from its size.

"I can hear it. I can feel it." He muttered and wound the gears on his hand. "It isn't right there, there are five or six walls between us and it, but it's close."

"You two shut up."

"We'll put them in a cell until the General gets here. Somehow I don't think this was part of his plan."

The leader shanghaied another couple of soldiers into his detail and led the way across the room, past a lot of curious people, to a small, metal door with a glowing green hand scanner. Beyond was a short passage, then another guardroom.

From there, they went through another door and Kim muttered, "Great, we broke into jail."

But, one of the three small cells held the alien prisoner.

Kim stopped in her tracks. Keeble ran into her back. A moment later the guard was swearing. He pushed roughly, and Kim stumbled into an empty cell. She couldn't take her eyes off the alien. It was an ugly bipedal thing that was actually closer to Keeble's height than Meledrin's though the size of the armor they wore has suggested otherwise. It had rough, tough looking leathery blue-tinged skin, a flat nose, and two large brown eyes. Wearing only a pair of trousers, it stood silently in the corner of its cell, staring at the floor. "Bad science fiction," she muttered. "A humanoid alien." She'd called it ugly, but maybe it was considered gorgeous by others of its kind.

Kim jumped when the door clanged shut. There was a hint of finality about the sound. The soldiers left them alone.

"What do we do now?" Keeble asked. He was looking at the alien as if it were nothing more than a puzzle to be solved. Maybe it was, for now.

Kim looked around. There wasn't much to see. One long, uncomfortable looking bench, three barred walls, and the alien. No pinball machine. No spa bath.

Meledrin was sitting on the bench, as if preparing for a long wait. Tuki crouched on the floor by the pack, skyglass in hand. Kim tested the bars near the door. She tested the bars to the adjoining cell. They were as solid as they looked.

She stood by the bars, looking at the alien. "Now we wait for General Hilliard."

"But I want to go in the spaceship." Keeble looked over his shoulder. "Or see the other gate." But the gate was obviously a poor second choice.

"Well, unless you can get us out of here in the next few minutes it isn't going to happen."

The dwarf pursed his lips and turned to look at the stone wall. "I might be able to."

Kim turned to look at him. "You were saying something about that before." Her mind kept twitching back to the alien, making it hard to concentrate. She wanted to talk to it. She wanted to grab it and shake it and ask it what the hell was going on.

"I failed the Rock Singing Test. I shouldn't Sing at all."

"What is this singing?"

He wound the gears on his hand. "I shouldn't Sing at all."

Kim went and crouched down before him. "Keeble, if you want to go in that spaceship we have to do it now. If General Hilliard comes down here we won't get another chance. We'll all be put in a more secure cell than this one, with guards there to watch us all the time."

"But if I get it wrong, someone could get hurt, or die."

"Meledrin can talk to the alien." Could she? Kim didn't stop to think about it. No time. She licked her lips. "We may be the only people who can stop this war anytime soon, but the American's won't let us. Not because they don't want to stop the war, but because they don't understand." Kim couldn't blame them for that. She wasn't sure she understood. "We need to get out of here, Keeble."

He looked at her, but Kim wasn't sure he really saw.

"I shouldn't Sing at all." He wound the gears on his hand in and out, in and out, until Kim grabbed his twitching fingers.

"I trust you, Keeble."

Meledrin shook her head. "It is pointless. Even if we could get out of here we still must get into the space ship."

She was right of course, but Kim didn't care. The ship was their one chance to stop the war anytime soon. And if they couldn't get into it, if there was no chance, she could at least see it. She could touch it before Hilliard turned up with his handcuffs and his questions. That would be pretty cool if nothing else. Kim held up her hand to silence the elf, but she kept going anyway.

"The Americans have been trying to breach the hull for more than fifty years, and you think we might be able to do it in a matter of moments?"

Kim kept her eyes locked on the dwarf's face.

25: Song of Being

Keeble looked at Kim. He saw hope and fear in her eyes, but he didn't see any doubt. Meledrin didn't believe he could do anything, but Kim did. She believed he could do something to help, simply because he said he could. So he nodded once and started to construct the Song in the air. He hummed the foundations carefully, making sure everything was right, before building it up with a wordless, dancing cadence, and sealing the joints with a series of clicks. When it was all there, he kept it going perfectly, all of the sounds combining like the stones of the mountains, or the water of a stream. He could feel the power washing through him.

After he had been Singing the completed Song for a few seconds, Keeble started to change it again, condensing it, whittling away the edges, honing it until it was focused tightly at one small section of wall.

He stepped forward. He reached out towards the focus of his Song. And paused.

Keeble looked at his metal hand. He could feel the power of his Song, but still he doubted. He glanced towards the others. They probably couldn't feel anything, but they watched him and trusted that he would do something. Kim and Tuki trusted.

Keeble returned to the rhythm of his Song, making sure all the elements were still in place, making sure he was still focusing on the stone in front of him. He reached forward, and his mechanical hand passed into the wall. Then his arm, up to the elbow. He could feel the stone there, mist on his skin, and the Song was like a mountain in his mind.

But he remembered how he'd lost his hand. He'd been in the Testing Chamber, Singing. He'd felt his Song, like he did now, but still he had faltered and the Song had died. It had died with his hand still in the wall.

Keeble tried to calm himself with another deep breath. He had lost his hand inside the wall. That proved he could Sing, didn't it? His hand was in the stone now, and still the Song continued.

"Holy shit."

He turned to see Kim staring.

"Holy shit."

"I've passed through one gate," he said, shaping the Song around his words, "and I can still hear that other one. They've helped make my Song stronger."

Kim snapped her mouth shut and blinked. "Right. Ummm. So we can just walk through, can we?"

He changed the rhythm slightly then nodded.

"I cannot just walk through stone," Meledrin said. Keeble had almost forgotten she was there. "It is not possible."

And Tuki, too. He was standing on the far side of the room, clutching his crystal ball like it might somehow save him. This was not quite the escape he had expected.

Keeble turned back to Meledrin. "It is possible," he said, and he stepped through the wall to prove it. Even as he did it, his heart raced, but the Song remained strong. He was in a small office with two desks and bookshelves that covered most of one wall.

A few seconds later, Kim pushed him aside as she stepped through, dragging Tuki by the arm. Meledrin came through a moment later but didn't look pleased.

"We need to get the alien," Kim said.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

So Keeble shifted the focus of his Song to the left and entered the alien's cell. He didn't even consider how the creature might react to his reappearance. The Song made extraneous thoughts difficult.

The alien held up its hands to cover its eyes and cowered away.

"Hello," Keeble said around his Song.

The only response was more cowering. Keeble, though reluctant to ask a dwife for help, was about to call out to Kim when he noticed she was already standing by his side. She didn't waste any time with talk. Crossing the room she grabbed the alien by the arm and tried to pull it towards the hole in the wall. But, apparently, if the alien didn't want to go somewhere it was going to take more than one dwife to make it.

Kim swore. "Mel, get in here and tell it what we're trying to do."

"It is not that easy," Meledrin replied from the other room.

"Yeah, I know. Without a context it's difficult to even start." Kim looked around the cell as if for inspiration. She grabbed the alien again and tried to pull its hand away from its face. "Keeble, help me."

"I need to concentrate."

"Right. Tuki."

The moai, looking very nervous, poked his head through the wall, as if being half in was safer than going all the way through. "Yes, mo'shi?"

"Move this guy's hands away from his face for me."

Tuki didn't look comfortable with that idea either, but stepped forward to do as asked. He towered over the creature but struggled, teeth gritted, to make it move at all. For ten seconds it looked as if it had turned to stone. Finally, Kim smiled at the alien and beckoned it after her.

"[Hey, what the hell is going on?]" There was an American standing outside the cell. He didn't look happy.

Keeble looked from the guard, to the alien, to the hole in the wall, which couldn't really be seen anyway. He knew he should be worried but merely stayed where he was and sang his Song.

Fumbling with his keys, the dwarf outside called for help. At that moment, the alien seemed to decide who its friends were. Showing as much emotion as an elf, it followed Kim and Tuki through the gap into the next room. The American, keys forgotten, was staring with his mouth open. Keeble smiled around his Song, waved, and went through as well.

Back in the office, Kim already had the door open and was looking out into the hall. "We've got to find the door to the hangar," she said. "We've got a couple of minutes at most."

"Why can't we just go through the wall?" Keeble asked. "The ship is in the next room."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. Of course he was sure. He'd seen the room so he knew the dimensions perfectly. He also knew exactly how far they had walked since leaving the viewing room. Since starting to Sing his Song, he was thinking much clearer than he had in a long time. "The wall is one meter thick, and the ship is ten meters beyond that."

"Well, tell us when you're right."

"Move the shelf. I can't sing through metal and books."

"Right."

The alien was as bad as Tuki, standing by passively while Kim spent a second trying to move a shelf before giving up and simply toppling it onto the floor.

Keeble punched his Song at the wall as he heard the door opening. He went through the hole with the others on his heels. The moment they were all safe, he shut off the Song with a snap that was almost painful. He didn't notice though, because the ship was right there. It was bigger up close than it looked from the room above but was still a bit disappointing if it was meant to fly between the stars. Dwarves had made steam trains that were bigger. He started to do a lap around it, examining the hull, running his fingers over the rough surface.

"What is the next course of action?" Meledrin asked. "As was previously pointed out, the Americans have been trying to gain entry to the vessel for some years. You can not expect to succeed in the next few minutes where they have failed."

"That bit there is stone," Keeble said. He knew it as soon as he saw it, though the small square section didn't look any different to the rest. It was on the side of the ship right next to another recessed panel, 2.6 meters to a side. "It's the densest, toughest stone I've ever seen, but it's stone."

"Which bit," Kim asked.

As Keeble pointed it out, he started his Song again, building it quickly. By the time Kim arrived at his side it was filling his mind. He climbed up on the scaffolding and slipped his hand into the stone.

"It's an access panel like they have in planes and elevators." She probably didn't know what he was talking about. He'd have to explain. "They let you get to equipment and machinery in the walls."

"I get it, Keeble."

"There's a handle." He turned the handle and the large panel slid silently upwards.

Kim's mouth was hanging open again. Meledrin and Tuki had come to see. The alien was hanging back near the wall.

"That was easy," Keeble said.

A pile of metal crates blocked half the doorway.

"Easy for someone who can stick his hand in solid stone, maybe."

Keeble saw Kim take a deep breath before sticking her head inside to have a look. It seemed she had walked through the stone with less trepidation. Either way, he decided, she did show a remarkable amount of courage and decisiveness for a dwife. She was almost like a dwarf. Almost.

"Alrighty then. All aboard, I guess, before somebody else turns up."

Keeble nodded and went inside while Kim went to talk to the alien, as if that was going to do any good. The crates occupied a storage compartment 2.8 meters high and three meters square. It was neat and tidy and everything was secure. Keeble gave a nod of satisfaction.

"Are you able to move further, Keeble?" Meledrin asked from close behind. "If not, then all our struggles will have been for naught."

Keeble grunted but walked into the room. Meledrin followed close behind, and when Tuki came in as well, the room seemed to halve in size.

There were a dozen access panels to the rear of the ship and another door leading forward. After a moment of hesitation Keeble headed for the door and found himself in the driver's cabin, the cockpit. There were two chairs and hundreds of screens and controls. He reached out and pressed some buttons at random and gripped the edge of the panel, choosing the next button while he waited for something to happen. Nothing happened. Inside the ship, anyway.

Out in the hangar, a door opened and General Hilliard marched through with a dozen soldiers at his back. On the other side of the ship, Kim was still trying to coax the alien forward.

“[You continue to amaze me, Miss McLean,]” the general said loudly. Keeble found speaking Tuki's language so natural that he was surprised each time he heard a different one. Meledrin muttered a translation. The general would soon be in a position to see the open door on the ship and would probably be quite a bit more amazed then. “[I don't know what you hoped to achieve.]”

The threat of soldiers seemed to do it again — the alien stumped towards the ship with Kim urging it on.

"There's nowhere to hide in here," Meledrin translated when the General spoke again.

That's what you think, Keeble silently replied. And what made him think they couldn't just walk through the wall like last time if they couldn't hide? Maybe nobody had believed the guard from the cells when he told the story.

Keeble heard someone clambering into the ship and wondered if they knew how to close the hatch. Hurrying back, he wondered if he knew. Kim was still between the crates.

"Out of the way, dwife" Keeble said, but when Kim looked around the panel was already sliding closed. "Oh." He checked it had been done properly.

Tuki was sitting with his back against the rear access panels with Kim's pack by his side. He looked like he would be quite happy to stay there for a while. "What do we do now, mo'shi?"

Meledrin nodded. "Yes. It is unlikely this vehicle is still operational after all this time."

"That's it Mel, optimistic as usual."

"I am merely pointing out the facts."

"Well, I don't know. It was unlikely we'd get this far."

Keeble shook his head. "Pointing out that we escaped the first million to one chance doesn't help us with the next one."

"That wasn't my point."

"You had a point, did you?"

The sound of voices coming from outside the ship increased as the soldiers discovered their quarry had escaped again.

Kim smiled. "The day's going well, whatever happens from here. Now, the sooner we get to work, the sooner we can get out of here."

"Sounds easy," Keeble muttered as he led the way back to the cockpit and sat down in a chair. "Do you always just make things up as you go?"

Kim sat by his side, looking at the controls. But they didn't get any further. A shout went up out in the hangar and a soldier pointed into the ship. All sorts of stuff started happening. More men rushed to surround the ship, weapons raised though they must've hit the ship with a lot more than those without any luck in the last fifty years. General Hilliard stormed back into the room and stood shouting in front of the ship. Kim waited while he blustered and threatened. She smiled the whole time as if she was having a great time.

"What are you so happy about?" Keeble grumbled. "We may just have to open the door eventually and let them in."

She shrugged as if she didn't really care. "A bit of a head start on working out how to use this thing would have been nice, but we still have all the power for the moment. And we've shown that it would be better if they tried to work with us a bit more. Or at least with you, Mel, and Tuki. I'm probably excess baggage about now."

"I'm surprised you were brought along at all." Keeble sat back and listened to the General as well. He couldn't understand a word of it, but he got the idea. "Well why are we just sitting here now instead of working?" he said eventually. He was almost as bad as an elf, sitting around listening to someone talk when there was work to be done.

26: Going

Kim turned to look at Keeble. His whole manner had changed since he sang his song and got them out of the cell. It was as if he had suddenly grown up and become an arsehole all at once. He obviously wasn't a big fan of women. In this case, however, he was right.

"Of course. No time to waste," Kim said, turning her attention to the controls. Unfortunately there was no big red button with 'Start' written on it. Or maybe there was, but she couldn't read the label.

There were what looked like three main controls, which were centered between the two seats. A wheel, half buried in the console, a huge foot pedal that pivoted in the middle, and a little joystick with a ball on the end. Kim fiddled with the joystick and discovered that it actually went up and down and no other direction.

"Okay," she said, nodding to herself, "that's a start."

"What's a start?" Keeble asked. "You can't know anything yet."

"Just because you haven't worked anything out doesn't mean I haven't. This wheel steers us, like a car, the pedal is forward and back, and the knob is up and down."

"You do just make things up."

"Maybe I did, but I think they're reasonable guesses. Anyway, none of it does us any good if we can't get the thing started."

There was a harsh, guttural sound behind Kim, and she turned to see the alien standing in the door. It was talking, pointing to the controls, and waving its arms about. She couldn't understand a word of it, and Meledrin couldn't either, judging by the look on her face.

Outside, the General had finally started to calm down. With an effort, Kim shifted gear into English and listened.

"Miss McLean," he said, "are you going to let us in?"

"No, thank you, General. Don't worry though, we've already started to make some progress."

"What do you hope to achieve?"

"Besides lift off? Well, how about getting you to use your resources more wisely? That would be a start. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some buttons to press."

She turned her attention to the controls but didn't press anything. It had been more than five years since she'd sat in a cockpit, and that hadn't looked much like this one at all.

"We really need power, Keeble."

"Obviously. If it's even possible."

"Just see what you can find."

Kim started working her way across her half of the control panel. She hit each button quickly, then pressed and held before releasing. Each time she waited for a response without joy. She flicked switches and turned dials backwards and forwards. Keeble watched for a moment before setting to work on his side.

"How long will this process take?"

Kim almost jumped out of her seat. She turned to look at Meledrin, who was looking over the alien's shoulder.

"I inquire because we have only a small amount of food and water."

"I know that. Can you speak to the alien yet?"

"It isn't that simple."

"For Christ's sake, Mel, use your brain." Kim sighed and rubbed at her eyes. She thought she could feel a headache coming on. "Sorry. Look, this isn't Sherindel. You can't just sit back and let things happen, otherwise a few hundred years will go by and you'll still be complaining about Chinese table manners."

"I do not understand."

"Don't worry about it. But we learned to speak Tuki's language, right. Do the same thing with the alien."

Meledrin sniffed but tapped the creature on the shoulder and beckoned it back into the hold where Tuki waited silently. The moai was probably going to be in charge of the charades seeing the elf wouldn't want to demean herself like that.

"Back to work, Keeble." But he was still pressing buttons. They worked their way to the center reaching what looked like half a skyglass at about the same time. "Well, I guess that's it then." Kim sat back in the seat and sighed.

Keeble was still examining the console as if they might have missed a button or switch in their methodical fiddling. "Maybe we need to do things in combination. Like turning the key and pushing the accelerator."

"Well, there are a lot of possible combinations. We could go at that all day." The only thing they hadn't touched was the skyglass thing. She poked at it angrily with as much reaction as she expected.

"That won't do any good."

"Well, thanks for pointing that out."

Outside the Americans had brought in some heavy drilling equipment. Kim doubted it was a new approach.

"I mean," Keeble said, "it looks like a skyglass."

"Yes."

"Well, Tuki is the only one who can use the other skyglass. What makes you think this one would be any different."

"Right."

Keeble drummed his fingers on the edge of the console. He looked at her and shook his head. "So let’s see if he can do anything."

"Right. Good idea." She called Tuki, but it was Meledrin who answered.

"Tuki is assisting me."

"Well you can do that on your own for a minute."

The moai ducked in through the door. "You want me to do something, mo'shi."

"Can you get that skyglass working?"

"I do not know."

Kim tried to keep her impatience in check. "Why don't you give it a go?"

"Very well." He sidled between the two seats and touched his finger to the crystal. "It is not turned on," he said. He muttered the word that turned it on before Kim had a chance to say anything.

"It is working." The ball started to glow softly, but nothing else happened. Kim waited. She waited some more.

"Now what?" Keeble asked.

Kim sighed and started pressing buttons again, working her way across the panel. Keeble grunted and set to work as well.

"Should I go back to helping Meledrin?" Tuki asked.

"Yes, Tuki. If you want."

He hesitated — Kim couldn't blame him for that — then made his way back.

She kept pressing buttons, and when there were only a couple left...

All her frustration and fear was washed away, for a moment at least, amid the whir and beep of machines starting up. There was a deep, gentle rumbling that could only be an engine.

Kim sat stunned for a moment, before doing a jig in her seat. Suddenly there was a lot of movement out in the hangar. Men were racing everywhere, though it didn't look as if anything particularly dangerous were happening. Not that she was in the best position to tell. But, looking around at the flashing lights and strange symbols which were becoming visible, she decided that, in general, she was in the best position.

General Hilliard had made his cautious way to a position in front of the ship. "What now, Miss McLean?" he shouted. "You don't imagine we'll open the doors, do you?"

"What did he say?" Keeble asked.

Kim told him.

"You really haven't thought this out, have you?" the dwarf said.

"Shut up." Kim had liked him more when he was crazy. "You didn't mention the door earlier."

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to know everything."

"Who said that? An hour ago I was in a cell with no realistic chance of getting out. I think I've done pretty damn well to get us this far."

"Yes. Wonderful. Now we're in a hangar with no reasonable chance of getting out."

Kim took a deep breath and tried to get her thoughts in order. "Arguing about it won't help. We'll just have to think of something."

Keeble grunted.

For a long time after that, Kim and Keeble sat in silence staring at the controls and switches in front of them.

"Let's just try it," Keeble said eventually.

"What?"

"You think you know how the main controls work, right? But it's no use worrying about the door unless you're right."

"Right." Kim nodded.

"So I'll see if I can at least get us to fly."

For a moment, Kim didn't know what to say. "Okay, some parts of your plan have merit, but there's no way in hell you're going to drive this thing." At that moment she thought she'd rather just open the door and let Hilliard in.

"Then who? You? Women aren't allowed to use machines."

"Let's get this straight right now, buddy — this is Earth, not some cave on Sherindel. People who can do things, do them. Gender doesn't come in to it." She took a deep breath. "A few days ago you thought a steam engine was the height of technology. I can drive cars and fly planes and helicopters, Keeble. You can't even program a VCR."

"You've never flown anything like this before."

"I've been closer than you. So don't touch a damn thing." Kim sat forward and examined the controls. Most still meant nothing to her so she decided to ignore them and concentrate on the main three. Outside, the Americans were creeping closer again, so Kim shouted a warning and waited for them to scuttle back to the walls. Then she sat, staring at the controls.

"So," Keeble said, "you control the ship with the power of your mind, do you?"

Kim glared at him for a moment then gently pulled the knob she thought controlled the elevation. And it worked. Kim smiled as the ship rose steadily into the air. She could see General Hilliard, and he wasn't pleased with the way things were going.

Keeble didn't look all that thrilled either. "Now what? We just break through the doors do we? I'm sure if you concentrate hard enough, you can actually open them."

She wasn't going to let the dwarf ruin her mood. When the ship was about ten meters above the ground she released the knob, and they stopped almost instantly. The ship hovered with barely a tremor. Backwards and forwards probably wasn't a good idea so she turned the steering wheel instead. When the ship spun, she did a little happy-dance.

"Huh," she said to Keeble. "Just like riding a bike." If the bike was a space-age penny-farthing.

"Right. Does the door open if we spin really quickly?"

"Shut up, Keeble. One step at a time."

"Well, tell me when we're ready for the next step." He sat back as if preparing to wait for a while.

The ship continued to rotate slowly. On the fifth revolution, Kim spotted what was probably their only chance. "I've got a plan," she said. It wasn't so much a plan as an idea.

For the next five minutes Kim moved randomly around the room. Forward and backwards were as easy to control as everything else, but she made sure she ran into walls occasionally and even bumped into the ceiling and touched down on the floor.

Keeble's anger grew by the moment. "Yes," he said eventually. "Great idea. Let's let you drive."

"See that there," Kim said. High up in the wall, opposite the gallery room they'd been in earlier, was another window. It was only a few meters long and leaned out over the hangar.

"What about it?"

"I think that's the control room, or something similar."

"What's it do?"

"That's where the person who opens and closes the door sits."

Keeble leaned forward to look. "How do you know that?"

"I don't, but if I'm wrong then we've got no hope, so let's just pretend." Kim could see by the look on Keeble's face that he didn't like the idea of going into a situation without having detailed schematics and a sound plan already formulated. Well, if he was going to stick around, he'd just have to get used to it.

"So fly up there and see what we can see."

"I intend to." In all her 'random' flying, she had ended up with a wingtip almost touching the wall. If she went directly up, it would be lined up with the window. "If I'd done it straight away, they would've worked out something was going on in about two seconds. This way, hopefully, they think it's just more random madness, and we'll get a bit of a head start."

"So someone has to walk out on the wing and go through the window?"

"Yep."

"Who?"

"That's a good question." Kim looked back into the hold.

Tuki was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest as he listened to the alien talk. He already looked like he was in way over his head and getting him to climb on wings and jump through windows wouldn't be a good idea. Meledrin? Kim almost laughed. Even if she were desperate enough to ask, the elf would never agree. That left two choices.

"Here's what we'll do." She took a deep breath and wondered how she kept getting into these situations. "You go in the back, find something hard and heavy to throw at the window, then wait by the door." Kim said. "When you're ready, I'll fly us up there then you open the door. We'll try to break the window, then I go across to the room. Hopefully I can open the door and get back in quickly. Then we get the hell out of Dodge."

Keeble opened his mouth and Kim knew he was going to say something about 'Dodge'.

"You know what I mean."

He gave a grunt.

"Off you go, then. Let me know."

It wasn't long before the dwarf called that he was ready.

"All right, then. Here goes."

Kim went forward slightly. Then back. And, with no idea if all her posing was doing any good, she pulled the knob that would move the ship up the wall. When they were in position she jumped out of the seat and dashed into the cargo area. The door was already open, and Keeble had his head out.

"All clear," the dwarf said.

Kim didn't really listen. Heart pounding, mouth dry, she stooped down to grab what looked like two book-sized metal cogs from a pile on the floor and jumped the short distance out onto the wing. Easy. "What the hell am I doing?"

She threw one of the cogs. It bounced off the window. And fell down to clatter on the floor.

"Shit."

But the glass was cracked.

She threw the second one, and the same thing happened. Keeble threw a third and a fourth from the ship, and finally the glass shattered.

Kim kept low as long as possible and then, careful of glass shards, vaulted over the wall into the room. She found herself on top of a console with about a hundred controls. Before she'd even climbed down to the floor, she was scanning the strange symbols that went with them.

A minute later Keeble called to her. "Something's happening," he said, and at almost the same moment she heard the sound of booted feet approaching. She looked at the door for the first time. There was a square, green button set into the stone wall. Crossing the small room, she tried the button and the door hissed shut. But she couldn't see any way of locking it.

"Shit." She grabbed a dirty, recently used, coffee cup from a small table in the corner and used it to smash the switch. She ripped out some of the wires behind, electricity biting at her fingers.

"Come on, Kim. We need to get out of here."

"You don't say," Kim muttered. She returned to the console and started hitting buttons at random.

Men were pounding at the metal door. There were curses and shouted warnings from outside.

"You can't get out, Miss McLean," Hilliard shouted from below.

Kim hit a few more buttons, stabbing at them with shaking fingers, and was rewarded with a clunk from out in the hangar. She leaned out the window and saw the two huge doors that made up the entire roof sliding back out of the way. "That's what you think, General," she said, though not loud enough for him to hear. She didn't want to get ahead of herself.

After checking the console again to see if there was something she'd missed, she climbed back out the window. The wing was as solid as rock when she dropped onto it and slipped back into the ship. Tuki and the alien looked like they wanted to be somewhere else, though with the alien it was a bit hard to tell. It waved its arms about and said something in its deep, throaty voice. Meledrin started to say something as well, but Kim ignored them all. She was back in the cockpit before Keeble had closed the door, and the ship was climbing a moment later.

Soldiers had gained access to the control room. The doors were starting to close once more.

"Damn it."

Bullets clattered against the hull, and Kim ducked instinctively though she knew the Americans were probably in more danger from ricochets.

Trying to ignore what was happening outside, Kim maneuvered the ship towards the narrowing gap overhead. It handled like a hovercraft. The only way to steer was to point the nose in another direction, which changed the angle of the thrust but generally left them travelling sideways as much as forwards. Maybe it wasn't a spaceship at all. Maybe it was a hovercraft that could hover slightly further from the ground than expected.

They bumped against the closing doors. "Shit. Concentrate."

With the elevation knob still slightly raised, Kim turned the ship then nudged the throttle. They scraped along the doors. Back to neutral. Bullets pinged off the hull. Turn again. More throttle. Turn, nudge. And they popped out through the narrow opening.

"Yes." Kim started another happy-dance before realizing they weren't in the clear yet. They had emerged inside a huge modern hangar. By the time she gathered her thoughts and released the elevation knob, it was too late. They crashed into the ceiling and stopped half in, half out of the building. When the scraps of metal fell away, there was blue sky above.

"Huh. Told you we'd make it."

Keeble didn't look happy to have been proven wrong. Tuki, eyes closed, was hanging onto a crate as if his life depended on it. Meledrin leaned over and looked through the door. Her face was pale. She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind. She pointed out the front window instead.

Kim swore. She seemed to be doing that a lot recently. It was better than screaming or crying.

There were a few fighter jets close to the ground, loud and fast. Higher up, there were about a dozen more weaving a net of contrails. They were keeping away what looked like a whole fleet of bats. The remains of both bats and planes could be seen close by, smoke drifting skywards. Men swarmed on the ground, manning weapons, fighting fires.

And Kim knew the spaceship was quickly becoming the focus of a lot of attention as well. Helicopters were taking off. Teams of men were turning in her direction.

She was starting to worry but tried to control her racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn't help now. She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "So where are we going?"

"I don't even know where we are," Keeble replied.

"Tuki, there were three blue crosses on your skyglass, weren't there?"

"Yes, mo'shi."

"Come and show me."

While Kim waited for Tuki to uncurl himself, a line of green lights flickered on the console and a voice erupted from somewhere in the cockpit.

"Can you here me?" It was an American.

There was a stalk next to the lights that might have been a microphone. Kim found a likely button and pressed it. "Hello," she said. She shook her head and changed to English. "Are you there?" No response. Another button. "Hello?"

The unseen speakers crackled. "Kim McLean, you are to land the craft immediately or you will be considered hostile."

"You wouldn't shoot us down, even if you could."

General Hilliard came on. "What makes you think that?"

"This ship thing contains the things most likely to end this war quickly."

"And what things are they?"

"My wonder bra and the amazingly powerful super weapon we found sitting on the seat."

"Miss McLean —"

"You're right, my attitude is much more powerful than any super weapon."

"We cannot let that craft leave this base, Miss McLean. We will shoot you down."

"Mel is learning the alien's language as we speak, Keeble stuck his hand through solid stone to get us on this ship, and Tuki can use the skyglass. You'd probably happily kill me about now, but you need them alive. And anyway, if you could damage this thing you would've found a way inside years ago."

Tuki was standing in the door, skyglass in hand. One cross over England. The second in the southwest United States. And the third somewhere in central South America. "Of course." That was where she'd seen all the fighting on CNN.

"What?"

"Nothing, General."

But did they want to go there? Kim didn't really have a plan, it was more an idea. The last idea had worked out pretty well, though. First of all she wanted to talk to the alien and find out the reason for the war. Why had they attacked out of the blue? They weren't just a mad, megalomaniacal race hell bent on taking over the universe. And then she wanted to talk to the aliens in general and get them to stop. That could be done here as easily as anywhere else. Except the Americans wouldn't give her any peace. Though that argument didn't work because they probably wouldn't give her any peace no matter where she went.

With her current resources, she probably wouldn't have much luck anyway. She needed a way of talking to the aliens without any interference. To do that, she needed to get into space or find a quieter place. A quiet planet. Looking around the ship, she decided she'd only try to take it into space as a last resort. Even if it could get there, and she had her doubts, the aliens were unlikely to listen to her, even if she could already talk to them.

"Okay," she decided, "we're going to South America. We'll go through the gate there and see what we can see." Kim was glad she didn't have much time to think. Her life was crazy, and if she had time to think she might just go crazy with it.

She hit the microphone button. "We'll leave you to it, General. Good luck. Seriously."

"Where are you going?"

A jet raced by, a hundred meters overhead and heading south.

"We've got a war to stop." Kim spun the steering wheel and pointed the ship southwards as well. She hit the thrust lever as a helicopter flew into position about fifty meters away. There was a moment as g-forces rushed up and hit her in the chest, then the sensations slipped away. The landscape flashed by below as they caught and left behind the jet with startling ease. It was out of sight before she really had a chance to think. "Holy shit." She'd barely touched the pedal.

After staring for a moment, she swallowed, increased altitude, and wondered if there was anything else she should do. Besides panic.

Kim took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She'd made it this far. She was doing a great job. She was.

27: Worlds Away

"What is our destination?" Meledrin asked, looking through the doorway. "How long will our journey take?" The motion of the ship was hardly noticeable, but it made her nauseous nonetheless. Just as the plane and cars had done. She did not think she would ever become used to it. She hoped she would be back at home, among her own people, before she had the opportunity.

Kim shook her head. "I have no idea." She stood up to look down at the ground as if she had done it a dozen times before. Shaking her head, she slumped back into her seat. "And, not very long at all."

"Do you wish to converse with Cuto? Is there sufficient time?"

"Who? What?"

"Cuto. The hurgon. The alien. There will be much that I don't understand but will be able to infer through context."

"You're ready to talk? And he's ready."

Meledrin nodded. She had been talking to the alien for more than an hour but thought she had learnt more about Kim's language in ten minutes. "Though I am unsure that Cuto is a male. As far as I can ascertain no mention of gender specific pronouns has been made. I do not think the hurgon use any pronouns at all."

"Right. Okay." Kim peered out the window again then across at Keeble. "Can you keep an eye on things up here, Keeble?"

The dwarf smiled and nodded. "Of course."

Meledrin turned to leave, but Kim stayed where she was. "You can't just sit there and fiddle with the controls. No fiddling with the controls at all, actually. You're smart enough to know when things should be left alone, right? So, you watch out the window and see if we're heading towards any battles or mountains or anything else that looks unusual."

"I can do that." He did not seem as excited by the prospect as he had a moment ago.

"Tuki, do you want to sit up here, too?"

Tuki shrugged, then nodded. Finally, Kim exited the cockpit and let the young moai pass.

"On which subjects do you wish to converse?" Meledrin asked.

"None in particular at this stage, I think. Let's just make conversation."

"Very well. And you wish me to translate everything for you?"

"No. Just tell me what you think I need to know for now. You can tell me the rest later."

Meledrin nodded, though she was not sure if she would know what Kim needed to know. The woman had a lot of strange ideas and seemed to reach conclusions from the strangest pieces of information. With a deep breath Meledrin started speaking to the alien.

"Cuto stated the American food was mostly unpalatable?" Just those few words hurt her throat. The aliens used a sign language in concert with the spoken words, a strange chorus of sound and vision, that Meledrin was slowly learning. She hoped to soon be able to dispense with the talk entirely.

The alien grunted. "Cuto is sick." The hand signals added nothing at all to the conversation, as far as Meledrin was able to ascertain. "Hakans do not eat proper food at all."

"The Americans were not intentionally making Cuto sick, Meledrin is sure. Unfortunately, it is unlikely these hakans will be able to offer anything more suitable at this moment."

"Hakans really eat that karakca?" There was a tilt to the hand signals that Meledrin interpreted as disbelief, but she was unsure that she would ever fully grasp the finer details of the language. "It is only three more hakan days before Cuto needs to eat again. Will these hakans be sending Cuto back to the T'loop before then?"

"Meledrin does not know, Cuto. Communication between hakans and hurgon has been impossible until this point in time."

The alien grunted.

"What sort of food does Cuto customarily eat?" Meledrin asked.

"Vegetables and fruit."

"What sort of vegetables and fruit?" She listened as the alien gave a long list. "Meledrin knows none of these things, describe some of them."

"Haackhir is a soft yellow fruit that grows on a tree. It has large green seeds."

The alien described others, but none of the descriptions informed her in any useful way.

"Meledrin knows none of these," she said when Cuto finished. "Do all grow in the one region of Cuto's world? During which part of the year do they grow?"

"None grow on Hulgorn anymore. Not for hundreds of suns. They grow on several other worlds, all year round."

"Surely the fruits cannot grow in both the colder and warmer times of the year."

"On worlds with krikhavk, farming is done near the vakakal. Other industries are located in the seasonal areas."

Meledrin turned to Kim and tried to explain what the alien had said. It was not easy, as the two words she had no understanding of seemed to be the most important.

"Seasonal areas? Maybe he's talking about axial tilt. So Hulgorn has no axial tilt? What does that tell us?" Kim nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. "If nothing else, the hurgon are probably slow to adapt, slow to pick up new ideas."

"Pardon? What is axial tilt, and how does its lack lead you to that conclusion?"

Kim explained the concept. It seemed strange but may well have been the truth. Meledrin had never before given thought to what caused the seasons. That they existed and had to be dealt with was enough for her and, indeed, for every elf she had ever known.

Kim continued. "So, humans, as a race, have evolved with the idea of adapting and changing every year. Summer, winter, droughts, floods. Different animals, different plants. It's those sorts of things that have led to a lot of advances in our society. To the hurgon, every year must be exactly like the one before, so why would they change?"

With a slight nod, though she wasn't sure she really agreed, Meledrin turned back to the alien. "How long since there was contact between hurgon and hakans?"

"It was almost six hundred Hulgorn years ago. In hakan years? Cuto does not know."

She informed Kim.

"Good, we might be able to find their home planet. We can work out how long their year is compared to ours, so that'll narrow things down. Find out about their ships."

"We already know what the world is called."

"It probably won't have the same name in the skyglass."

Meledrin conceded the point without saying anything. She turned back to Cuto. "What of hurgon ships, Cuto? Are they native to Hulgorn?"

Cuto gave a soft grunt that might have been a laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion. "Kil'ini are natural to no world. Kil'ini have lived in space for all of time. If Kil'ini could fly down to worlds, would hurgon ride the kidol to attack hakan worlds?"

"Kil'ini are the creatures that fly between stars? And kidol are the giant bats?"

"Yes, though Cuto does not know the final word?"

Meledrin nodded. "So, how did hurgon meet with kil'ini? How did the relationship start?"

"When hakans ships departed from Hulgorn, hurgon watched and waited, wondering when the hakans would return. With eyes turned to the sky, hurgon saw the kidol. Some wondered if it was possible to ride kidol, like the hakans rode their shining metal birds. It was possible." Cuto's hand signals had become slow and smooth, like it was singing, almost, or reciting a poem. Meledrin guessed that the story held great importance for all hurgon. She studied the hand signals closely, trying to learn.

"From the backs of the kidol, hurgon could see further still — to kil'ini flying even higher above. Kidol were urged higher and higher, right to the upper edge of the sky. Hurgon and kidol could not fly all the way to Kil'ini, and Kil'ini do not have the ability to hear, but communication was possible with signals and gestures.

"Never could hurgon fly high enough, but one day a kidol, Lapenti — with Zorta riding — was injured in flight and in danger of falling to the ground. A kil'ini reached down to help.

"The kil'ini, Ila'nidri, sheltered Lapenti and Zorta until the injuries healed and a return to the world was possible. While waiting, Zorta and Ila'nidri spoke of many things. Ila'nidri offered to take hurgon between the stars if that was wanted. Soon other Kil'ini were making the same offer."

When Cuto was done, Meledrin began translating.

"Wait a second, we attacked them?" Kim interrupted when Meledrin reached that part of the story. She had barely begun at all. "They hadn't yet gotten into space and humans were attacking them?"

"That is what Cuto says."

"Ask again."

Meledrin sighed. "Kim wishes confirmation of the fact that hakans attacked Hulgorn before hurgon had a knowledge of flight and the stars."

"That is correct. The hakan is trying to blame the hurgon for this war?"

"Cuto, modern hakan society knows nothing of these attacks. Our societies have come and gone and come again since then."

"Do not lie. No time at all has passed since the Great Sun Wars began."

"Ages have come and gone for our people Cuto. Truly we knew nothing of hurgon or the war until hurgon attacked the hakan worlds."

Meledrin could hear Kim fidgeting and turned to the woman.

"Make sure Cuto understands that we want peace with the hurgon, Mel," Kim said in response to the translation.

Meledrin sighed. What else did she expect me to say? "Cuto, hakans desire peace with your people."

Cuto was not convinced. "How is Cuto to believe? Millions of hurgon died at the hands of hakans."

"Meledrin does not know what can be done to convince Cuto, beyond treat Cuto as well as can be, which is being done already."

"Hakans could let Cuto go."

"Where, Cuto? Do the hakans just drop Cuto off somewhere and hope Cuto is found by hurgon?"

"Let Cuto talk to them."

"How?"

"Cuto is a communications technician. If tools are available, Cuto can fix the hakan radio so it can hear hurgon radio."

"Meledrin will pass this information on to Kim and complete the telling of Lapenti and Zorta's tale."

When Meledrin had finished the translation, Kim laughed.

"Shit. They fluked it. Talk about deus ex machina. A superior being reached down from heaven and helped them. No wonder Cuto is so in awe of the ships."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't worry. But what now, do you think?"

"Cuto suggests that if tools are available, our radio might be modified to hear hurgon radio."

"Really?"

Meledrin glanced at Kim, thinking that perhaps the woman was accusing her of lying.

Keeble's voice emerging from the cockpit delayed any opportunity to inquire. "Ahhh, Kim. I think you should come in here."

Meledrin felt a strange shifting in her weight, like she had felt when they first moved away from the American base, and Kim dashed back into the cockpit to lean on the backs of the two chairs to look. "I thought I told you..."

Meledrin followed at a more sedate pace and discovered that they were motionless in a sky full of planes and kidol. The alien bats, much more maneuverable than the planes, were no match for the human weapons. They dodged and weaved, retaliating with missiles of their own and dropping their bombs onto the world below.

"I thought it was a good idea to slow down," Keeble said. "The way we were going before, we'd run into stuff before we saw it, just about."

A plane turned and skimmed past a ponderous alien missile. The missile exploded anyway, engulfing the aircraft in a huge ball of flame and sound. Kim swore. Meledrin's heart was racing, but she schooled her face to calmness in case someone should observe her.

"Christ. We need a radar." Kim scanned the controls, eyes darting back and forth, as if the use of each one would suddenly become obvious now that she thought the need was real.

"What is a radar?"

"It lets us see things like missiles from a long way away, even if they're behind us."

Meledrin shook her head before remembering the way Tuki had used the skyglass at the American base. She mentioned the idea to Kim.

"You're a bloody genius, Mel. Tuki shift the focus, would you? Shift it in close so we can see what's around us."

The moai did as he was asked. In the meantime Kim moved up to the main controls in the middle of the panel and dropped the ship down near the ground. They advanced along a shallow river valley. The skyglass was soon showing the ship and a few kilometers all around. There were so many dots, they almost became one large smudge of yellow. Tuki touched the crystal and spoke a single word. Suddenly there were fewer dots, further apart. One seemed to be directly over the ship and descending rapidly.

A moment later Meledrin jumped, despite her best intentions, as a kidol plummeted past the front of their craft. It seemed to be just meters away, almost close enough to touch. She could hear the creature's panicked shrieking as it went by. The metal cylinders strapped to its belly were ablaze.

Cuto was standing just behind her. "That was a Ma'sosa Family kidol."

"How can Cuto tell?"

"The colors painted on the side. The Ma'sosa are a small family."

Meledrin watched as Kim increased their speed. They slewed from one side to the other as she struggled to keep them from colliding with the mountains.

"Do the hakans want Cuto to fix the radio?"

Meledrin translated for Kim, though she was almost certain what the answer would be. She could tell what the woman was thinking by just looking at her face.

"Now isn't the best time," Kim replied while still working at the controls. And to Tuki: "Where the hell is this gate?"

Tuki worked at the skyglass again. He chewed on his lip as if unsure. "I think it is five hundred and twenty seven kilometers directly south of us."

"Right."

There was a sound like rain against the hull of the ship moments before a jet streaked past. Meledrin jumped and held her hand to her racing heart as if someone might otherwise see. And again a few seconds later, when a sound like thunder washed over them.

"They shot us," Kim said.

They had already established that human weapons had no effect on the craft, through both overburdened logic and practical tests, so Meledrin was uncertain what the fuss was about.

"Hakan weapons have not improved since the start of the war," Cuto said. "In fact they have gone backwards. Hurgon have made many advances but, still, Cuto thinks there is no chance."

Meledrin did not know much about reading the alien's body language, but there seemed to be a resigned tilt to his sign language.

"All the more reason for Cuto to help us stop the war."

After a couple of minutes struggling along near the bottom of the valley, Kim sighed and took them up. Then she pointed the ship towards what looked like a clear section of sky and accelerated.

Meledrin closed her eyes for a moment and held her breath.

28: One Small Step

Kim flinched when a jet passed by, no more than eighty meters ahead. According to the skyglass, there were another couple coming from the other direction. Or maybe they were kidol. It didn't matter. Both sides were likely to have a shot at her if they could.

A warning alarm sounded. Luckily, Kim had her hand on the elevation knob, and she held on as she flinched. A missile, definitely of human design, passed below as they shot upwards like a cork from a champagne bottle. Her heart was racing. When she thought to release the knob, they were almost eye-to-eye with a couple of kidol. A moment later a missile dropped from the central cylinder of one creature. It fell a few meters then powered up and darted forward. Kim sent her ship up again. This time, when they stopped, they seemed to be above the main battle. For now.

They'd climbed a few hundred meters in a couple of seconds. There had been the momentary thump of g-forces when they first moved, then nothing at all. Amazing.

She breathed and looked around at her companions.

"That was close." She stood up on shaking legs and looked at the battle below. The sun was rising, peeking over the horizon, painting hundreds, maybe thousands of aircraft with golden light. There were so many of them, filling the sky like a plague of locusts.

The skyglass was indicating they'd have company again very soon.

Kim looked back out the window then back at the controls. It was possible the ship had all sorts of defensive equipment, but she was forced to jump around like a startled rabbit every time someone came close. Or maybe the ship was for doing the shopping, and the only thing it could defend against was wild shopping trollies. Looking around, she decided the final option was the most likely. There was so much she wanted to find out, but she wasn't likely to get an opportunity in the near future. She wondered how Keeble was doing. He was constantly reviewing the control panel, as if all the action outside was of no consequence, and doing an admirable job of controlling himself. His fingers were twitching with suppressed need to be doing something.

"South, right, Tuki?" She pushed at the thrust pedal. "Let's get the hell out of here."

There were battles for much of the five hundred kilometers, seemingly from the ground all the way up. The death and destruction was horrible. Kidol and jets were falling from the sky like ducks in hunting season. There were more kidol than planes, and that was where their only real advantage lay. For every one of the creatures shot down another three were waiting to take its place. Smoke was rising from wrecks and towns and forest fires. Kim did her best to ignore them all, finding open air and heading for it, passing by before anyone had a chance to react.

Half an hour later Tuki, watching his skyglass in the cargo cabin, started to fidget quietly.

Kim looked back at him. "What is it, Tuki?"

"We are in the right area. I think. The gate is close by."

"You're sure?"

"I think so."

"You think you're sure?" Kim muttered.

There were more than a dozen kidol high up to the west and a few dozen more scattered around the area. There were a few planes flying around the perimeters, but the humans seemed to be content to leave them alone for the most part.

Kim stood up and examined the mountains below them. There didn't seem to be anything there.

"Are you sure, Tuki?" Kim probably would have let the aliens have the area as well.

Tuki checked the skyglass again. He shifted the focus. "I think so."

He probably hadn't been sure of much in his life.

"That way, I think. The cross is very large, though, so it is hard to be sure."

"Okay." Kim sighed. "Let's find this thing." It could take forever.

After nearly an hour of searching, Kim brought the ship to a halt, hovering a few miles away from their destination. She slumped back in her seat and looked at the ruins clinging to the ridge.

"Where are we?" Keeble asked.

Kim could tell he wouldn't be able to control himself for much longer. "Machu Picchu," she said. She'd never been there, but it wasn't hard to recognize. "It's an ancient city that nobody really understands."

"What is it that you mean?" Meledrin asked.

"Well, there's no real reason for the city to be where it is. It's not on a major road, it probably wouldn't have been self sufficient, which was strange at the time, and it’s in a really out of the way place. Nobody has ever been able to think of a sensible reason why anyone would build a city there."

"How old is this city?"

"Not overly, in the scheme of things. A few thousand years, maybe. Maybe they didn't know about the gate, they just knew the site was important."

"But where's the gate?" Keeble asked.

"I don't know. Exactly. You know as much as me. Tuki? How about you?"

"Pardon, mo'shi."

"Can you narrow down the location on the skyglass any more?"

"I do not know. I do not really know how to use the skyglass very well. I am just a go'gan."

"Don't say stuff like that. You're getting better at using it all the time, Tuki. Just keep working on it."

"Yes, mo'shi."

"Right, then. Let's just land and we'll see what we can see."

Keeble grunted, and Kim knew exactly what he was going to say. "Great plan. The gate has been hidden for fifty thousand years or something, but we'll find it in the next half an hour."

"Well, we'd better. The Americans have a base in Peru. It can't be more than a couple of hours from here."

A crashing plane had taken the tops off a few walls and cut a long furrow in the earth. It had eventually come to rest, tail in the air, against a terrace wall. It had exploded sometime during the process. There were half a dozen dead kidol as well, plus another that writhed and kicked feebly. Smoke rose from the canisters on all of them.

Kim carefully guided the ship down towards a large open area in the center of the ruins. The plane had passed that way and a kidol was sprawled awkwardly, wing and neck at odd angles, but there was still plenty of room to land. She was going to need it. She'd forgotten how hard it was to actually steer towards somewhere in particular without stopping and starting and wavering backwards and forwards. She probably could have done it if she'd been willing to waste ten minutes or if she could see straight down.

There was one consolation. At this time of the day, there should have been tourists everywhere, but the war had kept them away. Yay for the war.

Getting close to the ground, Kim panicked and searched desperately for the switch that controlled the landing gear. It was a couple of seconds before she realized she hadn't done anything to raise it back in Nevada. They thumped down heavily, and Kim let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Mind the step, and no smoking until you have cleared the terminal building."

"What?"

"Never mind. Come on." She had to keep moving. No time for thought, or she would collapse in a blubbering heap.

Kim opened the back doors and jumped down to the grass. Despite what she'd said to Keeble, she looked around for some obvious sign of the gate. The dwarf, toolbox clamped in his hand, clattered to the ground, and Meledrin landed lightly a moment later. The elf crossed to her side.

Cuto, following close behind the only person who could understand him, said something and pointed at the sky. Kim was waiting for a translation when she worked out for herself what the alien had said. Three Chinook helicopters emerged from behind a cloud, heading straight for Machu Picchu. Where else would they be going?

"General Hilliard isn't stupid." If the spaceship had been tracked then once they had stopped to search, their destination must have been obvious to anyone with a map.

"I believe time is running short," Meledrin said, shading her eyes to watch the helicopters as well.

"Yeah, great, Mel. Well deducted."

"How do we go about this search," the elf asked, either ignoring or completely missing the sarcasm. "Do you have a plan?"

Kim turned to look when Keeble grunted behind her. She expected him to follow up with a smartarse comment, but he was staring off into the ruins. "How about we just follow Keeble," she said.

"I beg your pardon? Keeble has not previously been at this location, as you well know."

"You know where the gate is, Keeble, don't you?" She hadn't thought of the possibility before. It was obvious, really.

The dwarf nodded and pointed. "It's that way," he said absently. "I can hear it as plain as day"

"Well, don't just stand there. Lead on."

It didn't look as if Keeble even heard her, but he headed down the long slope. Kim wanted to tell him to hurry but didn't think it would do any good. He was in a daze. They moved into the shade of a building-topped cliff then climbed a low wall onto a path.

"How far, Keeble?" Kim checked the sky.

"Not far," Keeble said. He might have been talking about the helicopters. They were a couple of minutes away, at most, and the pilots would land them a lot quicker than Kim had landed the spaceship. But he pointed through a gap between two tall walls. "Just through here."

The dwarf ran his fingers over the stone as he passed through, as if wanting to stop for a closer look at the workmanship, but apparently the song called him on. Beyond the walls was a small square with what looked like a ceremonial stone in the middle and a spectacular view out over terraces and a steep-sided valley. The dwarf ignored both of these. On the northern side of the square was a small lawn enclosed on three sides by tall walls, some of them looking as if they couldn't decide whether to topple over in the next few minutes or stay where they were for another few thousand years.

The sound of the helicopters was growing.

"It's there," Keeble said, pointing at the rear wall.

"Where?" Kim went and touched the stone. It looked and felt like normal stone.

Keeble shook his head even as he went to put his good hand gently against the wall as well. "It's on the far side."

"Do not waste our time, Keeble," Meledrin said, starting back the way they'd come. "If we have to go around the wall why did you not lead us there immediately?"

Keeble shook his head again and sneered. "It is right against the stone," he said, "and we can only go through from one side. This side."

"So our journey was pointless then. These stones have been in place for millennia, and we will not change that in the next few moments."

Kim shook her head and looked at Keeble. "He can sing, Meledrin. And if he's going to, he'd better do it quick."

Helicopters were landing out near the spaceship. Kim thought it was all of them until one of them came over the wall and hovered barely twenty meters away. If the pilot got desperate, he could probably land in the square. Kim shielded her eyes against the dust and wind before turning to see that there was something that could distract Keeble from the gate.

"Don't just stand there, Keeble. Sing."

The dwarf wrenched his eyes away from the Chinook and turned his attention to the wall. His song couldn't be heard over the noise, but Kim could feel it building anyway.

"NOBODY MOVE." The voice on the loud speaker was easy enough to hear. The side door of the helicopter was open and a few soldiers were visible. One had a microphone, one had a heavy caliber machine gun bolted to the floor, and the others were preparing to rappel down to the ground.

"How's it going, Keeble?" Kim shouted.

"Ready."

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Kim went to the wall, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. The others were watching her. She'd passed through to Sherindel, but that had only been for a moment and she hadn't really believed she'd be passing through to another world at that time. She'd had time to think about it since then, and the idea scared her as much as it excited her.

She might have stood there all day, staring at the misty stone, but one glance over her shoulder and she saw that the first American soldier had just reached the ground.

"Come on. Quick." She took another deep breath, nodded, and stepped into the stone. Then she took another step. Nothing happened. She was in a big, dusty room — fifteen meters long and ten wide — that most definitely wasn't in Peru, but nothing had happened. She stepped through the door like she would have stepped though any other door.

"That's it?" she said. "I expected... I don't know. Something."

"Thunder?" Keeble asked, pushing her out of the way. The dwarf let his song slip away after the others crowded through behind.

Kim nodded. "Yeah. Maybe. Just something." She almost wanted to turn around and go back through, just to see if she'd missed something. It wasn't as if the destination was all that amazing either. It might well have been on Earth. There were ancient, fading frescoes on the walls. The subjects looked boringly human and were holding some very mundane items. Electrical lighting, or something similar, cast a pale glow. Did the air taste strange? Kim laughed. It probably did taste different, but that didn't mean anything at all. On Earth the air could be different from one street to the next. From one minute to the next, as well.

In some ways Kim was disappointed. If she were on another world, surely things should be different. At the same time she was comforted. Maybe her people didn't know this world, but humans had at some stage. "One small step," she said softly. One small step, and it had taken her from one world to another.

"I reckon we should close these."

Kim looked. There were two slabs of stone that looked like doors folded back out of the way of the doorway they'd just used. There didn't seem to be a lock or catch of any kind. Columns stood on either side of the door, though it wasn't likely they had anything to do with holding up the roof.

"I don't think it'd be much use. I think they're more ornamental than anything else. Besides, it'll take them a while to pull down that wall on Earth. They probably have to get council permission — destroying one of the wonders of the world and all."

"If you're sure. It'll only take a moment."

Kim thought about it then shook her head. "We want them to get through. We don't want to be doing this on our own."

"I am still unaware of what it is we are attempting to achieve," Meledrin said. "You have not made it clear."

She hadn't made it clear because she wasn't exactly sure. Get away from the Americans, first. Done, for the moment. Talk to the hurgon and end the war. She'd certainly made progress in that direction but wasn't sure how being on this new world would help, beyond evening out the playing field with the Americans. She knew as much about this place as they did.

"We see if we can find people on this world and see if they are technologically advanced." The dusty room they were in did nothing more than muddy those waters. "And we try to contact the hurgon and see what the hell we can do about this war. They don't want this any more than we do. Not really."

"You are basing this assessment on the fact that one hurgon failed to kill one elderly human?"

"Yes. And this hurgon right here is friendly enough. He's obviously someone we can get along with."

"So," Keeble said, "we need to find a radio so Cuto can fix it and we can talk to the rest of them."

"Yes."

"Right. Well it won't get done standing here." He shifted his toolbox to his good hand and stumped from the room. Though Cuto could not have understood a word of what was said, the alien followed. Tuki waited until first Kim and then Meledrin followed as well.

"This world may be in worse condition than the others we have seen," Meledrin said. "The hurgon may already have been victorious and moved on."

Hurrying after Keeble, Kim sucked in a deep breath as she started to catch up with reality. She was on another world. Another world. Her companions were all primitive people who still believed in magic. Hell, Keeble could do magic. Crossing between worlds was probably not such an impossible thought for them. They also wouldn't understand the odds of finding a group of worlds that were so alike.

It was all so unlikely. So impossible. Ending a war should be easy in comparison.

As far as Kim could tell, they were in some type of military installation. On the first level was a mess hall with a huge kitchen. There was what looked like a first aid room and a laundry. There was an office with twenty desks lined up with regimental precision. There was what could have been a rec' or torture room. Or something else entirely.

Every surface was covered in a few centimeters of dust and looked to have been that way for centuries. They left a storm of it in their wake.

At the end of a long hall, with a utility room and workshops that Keeble had to be pulled away from, they found a door that opened at the push of a button, and a set of stairs. Up was the only option. Kim went slowly, pausing at the next level, ear against the door to listen.

"What do you hear?" Keeble whispered.

"Nothing. Come on."

Beyond was more hallway and more quiet, dusty rooms. Kim didn't know what half of them were for, and she wasn't interested in the ones whose purpose she could guess. There wasn't anything that looked like machinery.

More stairs at the end of the hall, and more rooms above. Then the same again. They hadn't even found a door leading outside, or a window. Just fifty meters of straight, dusty blandness with stairs at either end. Keeble and Tuki checked every door as they went past, long after Kim had given up hope. They could have passed a dozen radios already, without realizing. Cuto didn't look particularly interested, though it was probably all very strange to it.

At the end of the hallway on the fifth level, Kim leaned against the door. "We might as well go back," she said.

Keeble shook his head. "The Americans are probably through by now."

"Right. Of course. We might as well wait here, then. They'll catch up soon enough."

"They will not return us to prison?" Meledrin asked as she straightened her hair.

"Of course they will. One made entirely of metal."

"And you desire this."

Kim sighed. "No."

"Then perhaps we should continue on."

"Come on, then." Kim levered herself off the door so Keeble could open it and followed him up the inevitable stairs beyond. And there was another door at the next landing.

"Do we look at this floor or choose floors at random or go straight to the top?" Kim said before the dwarf had a chance to open the door. But she knew what his answer would be. Skipping floors would be leaving the job half done, and that wasn't right.

"No shirking, dwife. There may be a radio right through here."

There wasn't. There was a hallway. But the hallway was wider, higher, and shorter than usual. And it was filled with all types of furniture and rubbish scattered around like a fall of autumn leaves. Kim didn’t know what the mess might mean, so she gave it no thought. The one door that marred the right hand wall was three meters wide and went all the way from floor to ceiling. There was no door at the far end, just an opening that took up the entire wall.

"Well," Kim said, striding down the hall as if her plan was finally coming together. Keeble stopped halfway to open the door, but Kim didn't slow. She went all the way to the end and through the opening. On the other side, she stopped so suddenly Meledrin almost ran into her.

"The door won't open," Keeble was saying as he caught up. "I think it's hydraulic. There's a panel near it but Cuto climbed up to have a look through the window and said there wasn't anything worth seeing."

"Cuto told you?" Meledrin asked.

But Keeble didn't answer. Kim decided he was probably staring at the same thing she was. The room was the size of a football field and filled with row upon row of spaceships. It was a pretty amazing sight, even if Meledrin didn't think so. Most of them were not much larger than the one they had already flown, but some were the size of a house, and there was an arch that led through to some even larger ships.

Keeble went to run his hand along the nearest hull, but Kim headed for the other hangar. Meledrin wandered along behind as if she didn't care either way. Tuki followed because that was what he did, and Cuto said something but followed before Meledrin had a chance to answer. The next room was five times the size of the first, and it needed to be. The smallest ship was a vaguely plane shaped thing about the size of a jumbo jet. The largest was a sphere more than a hundred meters across. It was massive. She couldn't believe something that size could ever move, let alone get all the way into space.  Maybe it was just another plane. Maybe it was a building. Maybe it was a moon.

No vehicle could be that big.

Kim was still staring, with the others gathered behind, when Keeble caught up again.

"Don't just stand there blocking the door," he said, pushing his way through. "Trust women to just stand around looking." But he stopped to stare as well. He went for a closer look a minute later. Kim watched as he went to rub his hand along a hull nearby.

Cuto broke the silence, and Kim jumped. Meledrin and the alien spoke and waved their arms for a few seconds before the elf translated.

"Cuto is adamant that someone is on the level below us. Cuto suggests we might want to either move on or make our way into one of these ships."

"There'll probably be a radio in the ships," Kim said.

"In that case, which one shall we enter?"

"How would I know? Ummm... a medium sized one."

"For which reason?"

"Because..." Yes, why? "Well, a little one might not carry us all properly, and a big one might be too hard to fly." Kim looked around and saw a fifty-meter sphere halfway across the huge hangar. It was probably larger than she wanted, but steps led up through a network of scaffolding that stood by its side. "That one there?" Examining it, she felt like one of the Amish trying to fool a used car salesman into thinking she knew what she was talking about.

Keeble had apparently heard the conversation, or liked the look of the scaffolding, for he was already making his way in that direction. He didn't climb the stairs though. He wandered slowly around, looking up at the curve of the hull and the huge funnels, like intake vents, that were all over the ship. There were also thousands of other holes, a few centimeters across, spread all over the ship.

Kim started to follow, but her shadow stretching out before her caught her attention. She turned and discovered that the hangar door was open. The door was huge, obviously, and offered up a view of a strange world. Kim went closer. There was a platform outside, then the land fell away into an enormous, densely forested river valley. On the far side, ten miles away or maybe twenty, sharp-edged mountains bit at a faintly purple sky.

Kim stood in the doorway, staring. The air seemed so much clearer than on Earth. The forest so much greener. It was like some primordial world that was untouched by the destructive hands of advanced creatures. Except there was a hangar full of spaceships and... Kim looked at the ground.

She looked back into the hangar and saw all her companions. Meledrin had hardly moved at all. Keeble and Cuto were examining the ships, and Tuki was not far away from Kim, also examining the valley. She took a step backwards.

The untouched valley. Except there was the hangar and a strange set of footprints in the dust. Boot prints, to be more precise. Actually, there were two sets. Who ever made the first set was big, either that or had stolen boots off someone big. Kim didn't want to try to steal shoes off somebody that big. She licked her lips and looked around. The other prints might have belonged to a child.

Heart racing, Kim followed the prints to the end of the platform where they went down a flight of worn stairs and disappeared into the forest.

"What is it, mo'shi?" Tuki asked. He was still standing by the door, as if afraid to venture any further.

Kim glanced back. She wiped her hands on her jeans, chewed her bottom lip. "Nothing." But she saw something just beyond the bottom of the stairs. It looked like a book. "Wait there." She didn't think he was likely to follow anyway.

She glanced around then hurried down. Then she hesitated before actually stepping down onto the hard, dusty ground. A small puff of dust kicked up when her foot touched. Just like Neil Armstrong, she thought. She looked around at the forest. It crowded in close, dense, and shadowed, except for a narrow path that snaked away along the side of the hill. Another sign of life, one that seemed a lot more real, a lot more permanent than the boot prints or even the hangar. Kim felt as if she were being watched. She snatched up the book and raced back up the stairs. Tuki watched, wide-eyed, as Kim approached. He took a step back.

"What is it, mo'shi?"

"A book."

"That is a book?"

As if it were some mystical talisman. Perhaps it was. Kim nodded. The red leather cover was worn and cracked, stamped with strange, indecipherable symbols. The pages were brittle with age.

"What does it do, mo'shi?"

"Nothing." There were pictures and lists and what might have been maps. It didn't matter what it was if nobody could read it. "Come on. Let's go look at the ship." Keep moving. Don't lose momentum. She made her way quickly to the scaffolding, trying not to notice that she was backtracking along the trail of footprints. She almost ran up the steep stairs. They ended above the ship's equator, but a platform reached out the side to touch the ship.

The hull was rough and pitted. There was an inset, round-cornered rectangle, about three meters to a side. "It looks like a door." Kim looked for a hidden handle or a panel that would reveal a handle, without really expecting to see anything. She ran her hands around the outside edge of the door. Then around the inside edge. She felt nothing unusual.

She laughed. Nothing unusual? My hand is on the side of a spaceship and I can't feel anything unusual?

She poked a finger into one of the holes on the hull and leant out over the rail to look inside. She couldn't see or feel anything.

She followed Keeble back down to the ground.

"What do you reckon, Keeble?"

"That panel there, between those two funnels," the dwarf pointed. "It's stone."

Kim examined the patch of hull. She could see a slight difference in color, but she thought it was just a trick of the light. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Kim narrowed her eyes as if concentrating would help. Eventually she shook her head. "If you say so. So you can sing us in then?"

29: Rugby

Keeble found a smaller scaffold and dragged it over so he could climb up to look at the panel. First Kim, then Tuki and the alien helped. When it was in place, they all climbed the steep stairs.

Cuto said something but Meledrin didn't bother to translate for everyone else. The alien spoke again, and Keeble turned to see it glaring at Meledrin. The elf sighed. "Cuto is not surprised that our civilizations failed if we are somehow able to lose two whole rooms full of huge ships such as these."

Keeble gave a small grunt and smiled, but quickly turned back to the ship. "I'm not sure if I can do it," he said, reaching out with his good hand. The stone was like nothing he'd ever felt. It was even stronger than the stone on the ship they'd flown from America and would withstand as much, if not more, than the metal sections of the hull. It was so dense and compact that it was a wonder it didn't collapse under its own weight.

"What do you mean?" Kim asked. "Why not?"

"The stone is amazing. It's so strong."

"Well, give it a go. Just don't hurt yourself."

Cuto spoke and Meledrin translated. "Cuto wishes to know how your singing works."

But Keeble was already building his Song. It was even stronger now. He'd passed through another gate and could add the knowledge he'd gained to his Song. He hummed the foundations carefully, making sure everything was right, before building up the Song with a wordless, dancing cadence, and sealing the joints with a series of clicks. When it was all there, he kept it going perfectly, all of the sounds combining like the stones of the mountains, or the water of a stream. He could feel the power washing through him.

After he'd been Singing the completed Song for more than a minute, Keeble started to change it again, condensing it, whittling away the edges, honing it until it was focused tightly at one small section of the stone panel on the hull.

He stepped forward. He reached out towards the focus of his Song. And paused.

Whistler's Mother, Meledrin is an elf. He wondered how he hadn't known. He wondered how he'd gone all this time with a woman and an elf as a companion. He felt his Song falter but clung to the rhythms tenaciously.

"Meledrin's an elf," he said, working the words into his Song. "She's an elf. And Kim is a human." The Song carried on, even with the revelations. He took a deep breath and concentrated. "Chess is an amazing game. Exact. Proper. But rugby is fun as well."

And even if Meledrin was an elf, she was part of his work gang. A work gang is like family. Keeble took a deep breath. She'd argued with that other elf at Grovely to let me stay. If not for her, I would not be here.

He looked at the elf, gave a small nod, and changed the Song again, spreading the focus until he had created a hole large enough to climb through. He put his head inside the ship, pulling himself up to get all the way through the wall.

Inside, everything was dark.

"It's dark," he said when he was back out in the open. "Like, can't-see-my-nose dark."

"Doesn't light get through the stone?"

"A bit, but the hull's about a meter thick."

"Shit." Kim looked around as if a torch might suddenly appear. It sort of did. "In my pack. There's a torch in my pack. Quick, Tuki."

The moai removed the pack and looked at it in confusion. "How do you open it?"

"It's a zipper," Kim said. As if that would help.

Keeble shook his head. "You realize he has no idea what a torch looks like, don't you?"

Kim grabbed the pack and rifled through it until she found a small torch. Keeble took it, found the switch, and stuck his head inside the ship again. After a moment he climbed in completely, surveyed his surroundings, then spun around and poked his head out to talk to Kim. The woman was waiting impatiently, chewing her lip, shuffling her feet, and glancing towards the door the Americans would enter by.

"It's just a box," he told her. "It's sixty centimeters square and runs 2.3 meters directly into the ship. The inner end's made of stone."

"What?"

"It's just a box."

"But that's crazy."

Keeble recognized the moment Kim came up with the idea.

"It's an airlock."

"Why does it need an airlock?"

"Because there's no air in space."

"There isn't?"

"No. Look, I think you're in a maintenance hatch. If you sing through that inner wall, you'll be in passageways or something."

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me"

Keeble wasn't so sure. Apparently it showed on his face.

"Just get in there and sing, and we'll follow you."

"There's no way Tuki or Cuto will fit."

"Oh. Right. Damn it." Kim chewed her lip some more. "Here's the plan, then. We'll go and wait by the door up there, and you open it from the inside."

Keeble nodded, "Right," and went back into the ship. "Go open the door," he muttered. "Sounds easy." He stopped, stuck his head out and looked at Kim. "Somebody bring my tools." It wouldn't surprise him if they couldn't even manage that between them.

Back inside the ship, he adjusted his mechanical hand to hold the torch and crawled along the passage. He Sang his way through the next wall and entered an intersection. He grunted and muttered as if Kim might hear him if he swore out loud.

After a moment he picked a direction at random, left, and crawled. Then a turn to the right. When he reached the end of the passage, if his calculations were correct, he was nine point seven meters from the outside of the ship. There was no reason why his calculations wouldn't be correct.

A ladder led upwards.

Keeble rose to his feet and climbed. His metal hand, still gripping the torch, clanked against the rungs, his good hand was slippery with sweat. At the top, he climbed out into another low passage.

"This is almost like home," he said to himself. He had spent a good part of his work gang apprenticeship crawling through the ventilation ducts of Tab Cavern.

Making his way slowly forward, Keeble emerged into a full sized room. He was looking at the biggest engine he'd ever seen. Not that he'd seen many true engines. Rising to his feet, he craned his neck to look at the top of the monstrosity and took a moment to wonder at the size of the engines in the larger starships.

He wondered about the room for a minute, shining his light into nooks and crannies, trying to match what he saw with parts he knew from planes and cars. Many of them were made from stone, strong and perfect. He may well have stayed longer, but the need to talk to someone, to bounce ideas off them and hear theirs in return, reminded him of his companions waiting outside. He doubted any of them would have worthwhile ideas, but they'd be better than nobody at all. With one last, quick look around and a pause to clean the dust away from a small, blank screen, Keeble found a door and continued on.

But he discovered that the next room was a workshop of some kind, with blank televisions and tools and cabinets filled with parts. It was all he could do to drag himself away. He hurried through the nearest door and paused at the base of a set of narrow stairs. He didn't know where to go. He tried to orient himself in his mind.

"I came up that way," he said, "and turned that way." He spun about in the hallway as he spoke, gesturing to push his thoughts in the right direction. "So that means that the others are this way." He started to climb, trying to calculate distances in his mind. If he added the height of the ladder he'd climbed, to the distance between each floor... He climbed three levels higher.

He stopped on a landing and shone his torch through an open hatch and out into a hallway. After a moment of thought, he went out for a better look. Keeble shone his light around and examined everything for a moment before reining his curiosity in once more. To his right, a passage led to a large window. The window certainly hadn't been visible from outside. He hurried along the passage and looked down into the hangar.

The first thing he saw was a human.

Keeble gasped as the man darted behind the cover of a much smaller ship one hundred and seventeen meters away. Another ran across the narrow strip of bare floor and hid. About two dozen men were quartering the hangar, looking for any signs of life. It wouldn't be long before they reached the larger ships and found what they were after.

When he drew his attention away, Keeble saw the scaffolding and his companions not far away in the opposite direction. The window stopped right near them with the wall taken up by what could only be a door. There was a wall blocking the passage just beyond. There was a vehicle of some kind clamped to the floor along the end wall and a row of cabinets, some of them opened, lined the other.

When he went closer, Keeble could see three buttons near the door. He tried them all, though he knew they wouldn't work.

"No power."

Next, he examined the wall nearby. There was an access panel. He pulled it open and was rewarded with the sight of a metal wheel.

With a little smile, he gripped the wheel with his good hand and turned.

Nothing happened. It didn't move. He grunted and tried again. Putting all of his strength into it. It moved slightly, but hardly enough to even measure.

If only he'd brought his tools, instead of leaving them with Kim. He took a deep breath and tried again, calculating the progress of the Americans across the hangar outside.

Finally the wheel started to turn.

"I'll feel like a fool if this doesn't open the door."

But even as he spoke, the door started to slide open, half one way and half the other. When there were ten centimeters between the two edges, big moai hands gripped from the outside to help. Not long after, Meledrin slipped through sideways, followed by Kim and Cuto when the gap had widened a little more.

But there was still a long way to go before Tuki would be through. Keeble continued to work at the grinding wheel. Kim lent her strength to the task.

Shouts came from outside.

“[Stop where you are.]”

“[Stop or we'll shoot.]”

They continued to work, and Tuki squeezed through a few seconds later.

Keeble started to work the wheel in the other direction, but Cuto pushed him out of the way. The alien worked quickly, big hands not slowing.

Gunshots rang out, bullets pinging off the hull.

Keeble didn't know if they were warning shots or not, but he willed Cuto to work faster.

Outside, the scaffolding started to rattle and shake, but the wheel had been loosened by its journey in the other direction, and the door was soon closed.

Keeble collapsed to the floor next to Kim. He gave no thought to who he was sitting beside as he struggled for air. He unstrapped his mechanical arm and threw it into a corner, rubbing at his wrist as he tried to calm his heart.

Cuto, Tuki, and Meledrin were standing silently, eyes closed.

"I don't know how much time that'll give us," Kim said between gasps. Her face was flushed though she had done little of the work. "There's all types of equipment out there. They might be able to find something that will help."

"Nothing in here works, though," Keeble motioned vaguely. "Don't see why anything out there would. Besides, the stuff is ancient, so they probably won't know how to use it."

"And if this vessel does not function, then what is the purpose of all that we have done? And it is ancient too, so even if it remains functional, who is to say Kim is capable of operating it?"

Keeble hadn't thought of that. He figured he could get it working anyway.

"I found the engine. I think there might be more than one, actually."

Kim sighed. "Well, any ideas? The torch batteries won't last forever. An hour, if we're extremely lucky. What happens if we don't get the lights working?" She looked at everyone.

Tuki cleared his throat. "The skyglass can be used to see, though it is not very bright." To demonstrate, he looked at the crystal ball and mumbled quietly.

Keeble watched as the ball started to glow, giving off a soft radiance. It wasn't bright, but better than nothing.

"Can you get the 'glass to just show a star, Tuki? And zoom right in?"

"Possibly." He muttered again, and a moment later the glass was filled with a bright yellow fire. Tuki smiled.

"Well, you lot will just have to stay near the windows," Keeble said. "I'll take the lights and see if I can fix the engine."

"We can still help," Kim said.

Keeble grunted but knew better than to argue.

30: Illumination

Kim hit one of the buttons by the chair. "Engage," she said. "Make it so." Nothing happened.

The bridge was slightly more than half a circle and housed in a dome at the very top of the ship. The seat in which she sat was located at the very center of the complete circle and raised above the others. It faced forward out toward a huge, curving window and could only have been the pilot's chair. Knowing that didn't help much.

There was another seat nearby, three steps down and also facing forward. Other than that, there were three other consoles and seats. Plus another seat encased in what was almost a complete sphere. Only an empty doorway broke the perfection of the single piece of clear, plastic-like material. The seat was beside one of the consoles. So, six control stations all together, in sets of two. She couldn't decipher any of those controls either.

Between them all was a small amphitheater with two rows of tiered seats set in a horseshoe.

Kim sighed and watched the American serviceman who was standing on the ship's hull, looking like a giant space bug splattered on the windscreen. "There's no wind in space," Kim said. "That's a view port."

The soldier had been pounding on the view port with a sledgehammer for the better part of ten minutes without any sign of damage. As if he or his superior officers could have expected otherwise. Keeble had wandered through the bridge a few minutes earlier, taking a break from his exploring perhaps, and laughed when he saw the man outside.

Kim was still watching half an hour later when the Americans moved on to gas cutting equipment. The futility was it all was very obvious, really. It had to be obvious to the Americans as well.

"This ship came down from space, you moron," she said to the man on the view port as if it was all his idea. "It can withstand more heat than your little oxy-torch."

But the man continued with his oxy and another came along to take up the challenge of the sledge. When Kim went closer to the view port, she could see others working with similar tools.

"Oxy-morons." But she couldn't hear all the pounding, so they certainly weren't going to hear her lame jokes.

Of course, the officers probably thought the exercise needed to be done anyway, just in case. And they were probably right.

"There are two each of three different types of engines."

Kim spun to look at Keeble.

"What?"

Keeble nodded his head in satisfaction as if he'd put the engines there himself. "Well, one of the pairs may be clocks. I can't really tell without investigating a bit more."

"What?" Kim said again.

Keeble carried on as if she hadn't said anything at all. Perhaps the dwarf didn't really care if she was there. "The matching ones can run at the same time, or separately. The different sets are linked together, but only loosely. Two pairs near the middle, along with a pair of huge batteries. Then there is another pair of engines at the front, linked to those four antenna things on the outside of the ship. Like the man said, backups for everything."

"Which man? Do any of them work?"

Keeble shrugged. "I don't even know how to try to start them to test. If you don't either, I'll need to keep looking." He looked like he wanted to leave but was not going to give up that quickly.

Kim sighed. "Shit." For a while, she'd been down with the others trying to help, but when it came to fixing things her expertise ended just after she opened the toolbox and before she selected a tool. The lack of progress had started to make her mad. "What else is down there?"

"You could go and look for yourself."

Kim couldn't argue with that. "It'd be quicker if you told me now."

"There's a hold."

"Yeah? Anything in it?"

"Lots. Don't know what, though. Only just managed to get the door open. Back up was broken."

"Excellent." There was something Kim could handle. She was a backpacker by trade, so she could find useful things almost anywhere. But that didn't help with the real problem.

"So, can you work out how the engines work? You said you learned about cars just by pulling them apart."

Keeble shook his head as if Kim didn't understand anything. "I had books there, as well, that showed how things were linked. No books here. And the engines are nothing like a car engine. I can't find anything I recognize."

Kim sat up straighter. "There will be books, but they'll be on computer. The first thing we need to do is find the power switch for this stupid machine."

"Power switch?"

"Yeah. There's got to be something like a standby mode, or something." It sounded reasonable. "There are two huge batteries, right? We need to find what they're linked to."

"They don't help. They're linked to thousands of things. Without power I can't check anything to see what's useful."

"Oh. I guess I'd better stop moping and help then."

Keeble grunted. "Don't need help."

"Rubbish."

The only way down from the bridge with no power was a spiral staircase. It ran round the side of a lift shaft that was in the very center of the dome of the bridge, directly beneath the captain's chair. And once she got to the floor below, where there were a couple of offices, a boardroom, and a storeroom, she followed Keeble and his torch to the next set of stairs. Level two seemed to be exclusively sleeping quarters. On the third level, they went to the dining area. There were rows of metallic tables bolted to the floor and cabinets around the walls, all of which had been opened and ransacked.

Tuki was watching his crystal ball as if its light would tell him something. Meledrin was reading. At least, she was looking at the book Kim had found out on the world. There were another couple of books on the table.

Turning off the torch, Keeble stopped in the center of the room, looking around as if disgusted by the mess the search of the lockers had created. Despite its age, a lot of the clutter seemed to be in remarkably good condition.

There was a lot of general, mixed stuff, plus about a dozen strange looking yellow contraptions.

"What are those things?" Kim asked. They were cylindrical, with hinged carrying handles and levers on the side.

Keeble answered with a shrug. "Don't know. They're everywhere though."

Kim picked one up and examined it. "Have you tried the lever?"

Keeble hadn't, which Kim found surprising. Perhaps he just had more important things on his mind.

"Well then."

"You can't just..."

Kim moved the lever, and a few seconds later the top half of the cylinder started to glow. After about thirty seconds there was enough light to reach all but the furthest corners of the room.

Kim smiled. "Huh. Well, there you go." But there were heaps of the things. Were blackouts common occurrences on starships? The light continued to grow until it was blindingly bright.

"That's a bit bloody bright," Keeble said, as if that was the reason he hadn't been using them.

"Who cares? It's better than what we had." Kim shrugged, squinting against the glare. "How are you going, Mel? Did you find anything interesting?"

"There is a library, but all the books seem to be written in the same language as this one you found."

"So it came from the library, do you think?"

Meledrin shook her head. "The one you found is handwritten on rudimentary paper. The others are printed on high quality paper such as I saw on your world."

"So can you read them?"

"There are many with pictures which I have been attempting to cross reference. There are signs on the walls outside many of the rooms, as well, that I have noted down." She indicated a piece of paper on the table. She nodded. "I am making progress."

"Well, keep going." Kim sat silently for a moment, watching her stark, sharp-edged shadow on the wall. "Keeble thinks two of the engine things might be clocks."

"Clocks?"

"Yep." She gave the clocks some thought. "They're mechanical clocks. Why have those when a digital clock would take up a lot less room and be a whole heap more accurate?"

Meledrin shook her head. "I do not know."

"Does it matter?" Keeble shrugged.

"It must. They're huge, so they must be important. Vitally important. They'd hardly make huge clocks just to wake people up in the morning. But if nothing else it narrows down what do we need to fix in order to get this thing moving. We can worry about the clocks later."

Keeble muttered something under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"I can't fix the clocks." The dwarf scuffed his boot on the floor. "Clocks are very specialized. If one little thing is out, nothing works properly. And these ones look more complicated than any I've ever seen."

"Well, let's worry about that when the time comes."

Kim knew she had to get Keeble doing something or he'd get grumpy. "Keeble, you go look at the engines to see what you can learn. I'll think of something useful to do."

Sneering, Keeble nodded, took a lamp, and made his way out the door. Cuto watched the dwarf for a moment then collected a lamp of its own and followed.

Kim pointed to the book. "So, what can you read so far, Mel?"  It could be the answer to their prayers or a recipe book — which might not be so bad either. Kim had a feeling it was important, though. It appeared to be out of place in this world. With the ships and the printing and everything else, an old leather book was not something that would be just lying around.

The elf shook her head. "Nothing, really." She shook her head again. "It is as it was when we were learning Tuki's language. I am understanding more than I should at this juncture, but it is all very strange."

"So, what have you got?"

Mel took up one of the books from the ship and started flicking through the pages. "Using these pictures I was —"

"Don't bother telling me how you worked it out. I trust you."

"Very well." Mel paused for a moment then took up the book Kim had found. "This part here seems to say something about the stars being a gift from the gods to man."

"Ummm, okay. It's some type of religious text?"

"I do not believe so, though it does go on to say that the power of the stars and the glare of the gods' gaze overwhelmed any man who reached out to take the gift." Meledrin's brow was wrinkled as she attempted to tease meanings out of the strange symbols scrawled on the page. "So the gods bestowed another gift, reshaping men into six different tribes that could form a 'great all mind' so they would not be overburdened by the gift of the stars.

"That is if I have the translation right. I am not sure that it means anything at all."

Kim wasn't so sure. In Area51 she'd discovered that what might be considered fanciful, impossible legends could have a basis in reality. This talk of six tribes and reshaping people struck too close to home. Keeble, Mel, and Tuki were all human, apparently, just slightly different from those found on earth. Reshaped by the gods, perhaps?

Tuki shifted slightly in his chair, and Kim knew enough to know that was significant. He had something he wanted to say but was too nervous to say it.

"What is it, Tuki? Don't be afraid to speak up."

"It is just that the moai say we came from the stars and that one day five 'greater beings' will come and lead us back there."

"Five and a moai make six, right? The six tribes."

He nodded for a moment, stopped and shrugged.

A moment later, Kim surged to her feet, and grabbing a lantern, rushed to the stairs then to the flight deck above. Once there, she stopped to stare. The chair near the door and the one in the clear sphere were large by human standards. The two on the other side of the room were smaller than the others, though situated on a platform so the controls were all the same height.

Kim heard a noise and spun to see Meledrin and Tuki watching her.

"What is the matter, Kim?"

She went up to the captain's chair, as if the different angle might change what she saw, change the significance of what she was seeing. "We need to go get Keeble up here."

"I will get him, mo'shi." Tuki disappeared down the stairs, but the light of his lamp seemed to linger for a long time.

"Mel, you might as well take a seat. Up here."

The elf sniffed but made her way to the second central seat. The others arrived a few minutes later.

"Will the two of you please sit down over there," Kim said, pointing to the side of the ship with the larger chairs.

While Cuto loitered by the door, Tuki did as he was asked, selecting the seat in the sphere, perhaps because it reminded him of the skyglass.

Keeble stayed near the alien. "Why should I? What's going on?"

"I think I've worked something out." Though it was crazy.

"So? What's it got to do with me?"

Kim sighed. "Everything, Keeble. Just sit down."

He grumbled, but stumped across to the seat. "Dwarves have known about chairs for centuries. I could have told you about them and saved you the strain of thinking." He sat down and looked at the seat. He wiggled a bit and swung his feet. They were well off the floor. "It's a bit big."

"Yes. Isn't it?" Kim chewed on her thumbnail for a moment. "Okay. Now, both of you swap to the chairs over the other side, please."

"For Whistler's sake, woman, make up your mind."

But Keeble and Tuki walked across to the other side of the bridge and stepped up onto the platform.

The dwarf sat down and nodded. "That's much better."

But Tuki couldn't even get his knees under the console.

Keeble noticed straight away. "That's interesting."

Kim nodded. "Isn't it?"

"But what does it mean?"

"It means this ship was made for us."

"How could they know we were coming?" Tuki asked.

"No, not us in particular, but people like us. We're from four of the six tribes. A long time ago humans were genetically engineered, or changed by the gods or whatever, so we could help fly this ship." She slumped back into the pilot's chair. Was she supposed to be sitting there? She didn't know what the controls in front of Meledrin's chair were for, exactly, but seeing she wasn't about to let the elf drive she gave no thought to switching.

"Does this assist us in any useful manner?"

Kim looked about, as if knowing the secret of the seats might have let the ship start on its own. Nothing happened, so she went to stand near Keeble. She chewed on her lip as she thought.

"It tells us that these controls are for engineering." She hoped she was right, otherwise they were back to square one and going nowhere. "When they're working, Keeble, you can keep track of all of the systems on the ship. Do you understand? In a car there is the oil gauge and the temperature gauge and fuel gauge. This is where all those things will be for this ship." Keeble was nodding his head and studying the layout, as if it would mean anything without power.

"Tuki, your seat is one of those two back over there."

Unlike the seats for Keeble and his missing partner, the seats on the opposite side were obviously at two different sets of controls. Kim looked from one to the other but was unsure where Tuki should sit.

Tuki was in the sphere chair again, studying the dozen or so controls on the armrests as if each would bring on a different, equally hideous form of torture. Among all the buttons there was what appeared to be a trackball on each side, and two pedals. The other seat faced three monitors. There was a clear space right in the middle, as if somebody had forgotten to install a very large keyboard or, perhaps, forgotten to install another trackball. There was a large depression in the console where such a thing might have fitted. To either side of that were a few buttons and a joystick.

Kim looked from one set of controls to the next, looking for some clue as to what they were for. Finally, she saw it.

With an excited laugh, she crossed to Tuki and took hold of the skyglass. He was reluctant to let it go, but Kim smiled. "It's okay, Tuki. You're in the wrong seat, though, and I'll need this for just a moment."

He let the ball go and Kim took a deep breath, gave a small prayer, and slotted the skyglass into the depression on the console. It fitted perfectly and clicked satisfyingly into place. Kim took another deep breath and smiled to herself. Three quarters of the ball was visible above the counter.

The console beeped. A single light flashed.

Kim almost cheered. She gripped the console so tight her fingers hurt.

Cuto said something and finally moved away from the stairs to look.

"I hope this thing doesn't run on Windows," Kim said, voice quavering. The joke was lost on everyone else.

"What did you do?" Keeble raced across the room.

"I think I found the key." It's a strange sort of key, she thought, but perhaps there were other ways to get it started as well.

All around, systems were coming to life. Light flooded the room.

Kim smiled fully now, more relieved than she thought completely necessary. She felt like doing a jig but didn't think it was appropriate — she was in charge, after all. Apparently. She tried to sound businesslike. "Alrighty then. Let's see what we've got."

She looked up and discovered Keeble standing by Tuki's seat, examining the skyglass and its new home. The image shown in the 'glass was also hanging in the air above it in all its 3D glory.

"Why are you standing here, Keeble? I'm pretty sure you'll have a computer over at your console that tells you how everything works."

The dwarf glanced over to the other side of the flight deck, then back at Kim. A broad smile split his face, and he ran back to his seat. Kim followed at a more leisurely, dignified pace, to see if she could help get him started.

When she got there, crouching down so she didn't feel like a teacher looking down at a preschooler, Kim found herself looking at a screen full of meaningless writing and what looked like iconic buttons. None of it meant anything to her.

"So, how do we start the engines then, woman?"

Kim chose to ignore Keeble's tone. "No idea. It might not even be done from this console." Kim made her way back up the stairs to the pilot's seat and examined the brightly lit array of controls while Meledrin puzzled her way through menus on Keeble's computer. She listened vaguely as she chose a button at random and pressed it. She was fairly relieved when nothing happened.

She chose another button, and when she pressed it a buzzer sounded from various speakers. It sounded more like a paging system than an alarm and came from speakers at all the consoles and probably all around the ship. She spoke into what might have been a microphone. "Hello." She wondered if she could be heard from outside.

After that, she decided to quit while she was ahead. She didn't want to start the engines then find out the ship was in gear.

Over at the engineering console, Keeble was making progress with Meledrin's assistance.

"Propulsion," Keeble said, and hit the button himself.

Meledrin struggled with the next list, spending a long time with her eyes closed and talking silently to herself. "Clocks, Gravitic Field generators, Ohoga Engines..."

"What does Gravitic mean?" Kim wandered back over to look, as if it would make a difference.

"I am unsure. But the tree on Sherindel where the gate is located is called the Ohoga tree."

Kim wanted to say something enlightening, but nothing came to her.

Meledrin shrugged.

"Maybe the guy who invented the engine found the gates?" Kim suggested.

She shrugged again.

"Try 'Ohoga Engines,' then."

They did, and Keeble spent the next five minutes examining what appeared to be a wiring diagram.

"Not very detailed," he complained.

Kim had to agree. If there were ten wires in the 'Ohoga Engines,' then being able to point out the Big Dipper would make her an astrophysicist. "This is probably a simplified version. All the good stuff will be in the engineering bay. Or in some other section."

"Good. But this won't let me start anything. The Ohoga Engines are those two bits at the front connected to the batteries and the antennae." He looked closer. "They are connected to the clocks, as well, and one button."

"Really?" Kim said. "Well, these clocks just keep getting more interesting, don't they? What about the other one? What does Gravitic mean, Mel?"

"I told you, I am unaware of the meaning."

"Doesn't help a lot, really. And 'clocks' is in the propulsion section?" That didn't mean a lot either, without more information to go with it. "Try the gravity thing then."

31: Alignment

Keeble fumbled through some menus with Meledrin looking over his shoulder and carefully reading each heading in her self-important voice. He knew he wouldn't have made any progress without the elf's help, but that didn't mean she was any less annoying. Eventually they made their way to a diagram that told Keeble what he wanted to know. After examining the screen for a moment, he got out of his chair, crossed to the pilot's console and counted buttons. It was Kim watching over his shoulder this time.

When he found the right button he pushed. The whole ship hummed quietly for a moment. Then it shuddered violently. Lights dimmed and an alarm sounded. Keeble quickly hit the button again and stillness returned.

"What just happened?" Kim asked.

Keeble shrugged. "I think something's wrong."

"You don't say."

Keeble looked at Kim. It looked as if she wanted to solve all their problems in a moment.

She gave a decisive nod. "Okay then, here's what we need to do. Keeble, you need to get to the engineering bay and see if you can find out what's wrong with the engines. For that, you'll need Meledrin to help with the reading."

"I don't need her help. I think I'm starting to understand the writing already."

"Maybe, but Meledrin will make it quicker and easier." Kim laughed. "She's our communications expert. So bloody obvious."

"You learned to speak this language in a matter of hours yourself, Kim," Meledrin pointed out. "As did Keeble."

"Yeah, I know, but you're still the expert. You seem to be able to learn any language. Maybe when the gods redesigned man, they wanted to make sure we'd always be able to understand each other enough to get by, so they hardwired a language into us. And into elves, they hardwired the ability to learn any language."

Keeble thought it sounded a bit ridiculous, but then so did so many other things that were happening.

"Very well."

"Well, let's all get down to engineering then, shall we?" Kim said with a smile. "Let's see about getting the engine started. I'll be your assistant, Keeb'."

"I don't need an assistant." How could she assist? She'd do nothing more than get in the way.

"Yes, you do, and we need to learn as well, just in case."

"Do you even know what the Gravitic Field Generator is?"

"No. Do you? Maybe 'Gravitic' has something to do with gravity. Or antigravity?"

"Antigravity isn't possible." But Keeble wasn't willing to bet what might be possible any more.

"The CIA seems to think the aliens use antigravity."

Keeble wanted to know more but wasn't about to show that. "And what is Tuki going to do during all of this? If you knew anything about leading, you'd know that it isn't good to have one person just sitting around doing nothing. It's bad for morale."

"Tuki can continue doing what he's doing. It may be the most important job on the ship."

Keeble looked across at the moai. It didn't look like he was doing much at all. Ever since his silly globe had clicked into place, he had stared at the projected image that hung in the air above it.

Kim seemed to suddenly think the same thing, for she went over and encouraged Tuki to play and experiment.

"But what if I do something wrong?" he asked. "What if I break something?"

Kim smiled for him. "I doubt it's possible to do either. Just play with the controls and see what happens."

As if to demonstrate, Kim did something and the suspended image changed, scrolling to the left.

"There you go, see?"

Tuki's eyes lit up. He smiled and nodded and hesitantly reached out to do something himself.

Meledrin was talking with Cuto, waving her arms about as she did. "Cuto wishes to assist with the repairs," the elf said eventually.

"Great," Keeble muttered.

Kim said it as well, but she sounded as if she meant it. "Maybe you should start teaching us Cuto's language as well."

"The spoken words may be beyond all of us, in the end. Just a minute of conversation hurts my throat tremendously. But the hand signs will perhaps be easier."

"Just as long as we can start to understand each other. Which will mean the hurgon leaders will understand us as well."

Meledrin nodded. "In the future, I will talk in this language and do the hurgon signs. I shall, for a while, try to use the signs as much as possible when others are speaking." She was already suiting words to actions, waving her hands as she spoke. Keeble tried to match them up. The alien interrupted her, and she stopped to listen. "Cuto says the hand signals are called ini rituals. The kil'ini are unable to hear, so the rituals were designed to make it possible to communicate with them."

"Cool. Be prepared for lots of questions, too," Kim said, and the elf waved her hands.

Sick of waiting, Keeble headed for the engineering department. The others, except for Tuki, hurried to catch up. Now that there was power, the elevators were working so the trip was quite a bit quicker than it had been previously. One elevator from under the captain's chair down to level one. Then another to level 7.

Down in engineering, Keeble immediately took charge. He took a seat at the computer, Meledrin and Kim towering over him as he started to go through the menus.

Like Kim had said, the computers up on the flight deck showed only the bare essentials. It would have taken him a lifetime to discover anything important on them. But in engineering he was able to power forward. The computers told him everything, slow process though it was.

Cuto watched as well, occasionally offering suggestions, but hanging back for the most part. When a dull boom reverberated throughout the ship the alien hardly seemed to even notice. The lights dimmed, then came back to life.

Meledrin stopped reading for a moment. "What was that?" She forgot the ini rituals but corrected her mistake a moment later.

"The Americans, probably," Kim said, "still trying to get in."

Keeble grunted. "Not much we can do about it."

But Kim had other ideas. "Maybe not, but the computer will probably tell us if they're doing anything we need to worry about."

"Really?"

"Yep. Somewhere."

They went back to the start of the menus and, in 'Maintenance', found 'Hull'. According to the diagrams, the hull was slightly damaged, but whether that was recent or fifty thousand years old was impossible to tell.

The muffled thud a few seconds later helped.

"Looks good," Kim said.

"How?" Meledrin asked, waving her arms and flicking her fingers. She looked slightly shocked, which was a lot for her. "Surely this graphic indicates that the vessel is damaged." She obviously didn't understand.

"Yes, we're damaged," Keeble said with a sigh. "But nothing changed with that last explosion, so the Americans didn't cause it."

"If you are sure?" Meledrin looked to Kim, as if Keeble's explanation wasn't enough. She remembered the ini rituals after a moment of hesitation, and Keeble tried to follow.

"I think we're safe for now."

"Right, but we should still get out of here," Keeble said. "What does this say?"

"Let me know what you come up with," Kim said. "I'm going down to the hold to see what I can find."

Cuto said something.

"You were going to help with the repairs," Meledrin translated.

Kim looked at the computer. "Yeah, but I guess I know my limits. If Cuto is a radio technician, he should be able to help more than me."

"Cuto is not a male," Meledrin pointed out, again.

"Whatever. Look, I'm going. Let me know if you do actually need me."

Keeble was back at work before she had left the room.

Another half an hour in the 'Maintenance' program, and he discovered that the Gravitic Field Generators were out of alignment by 9.67 percent. He didn't quite know what that meant. But he thought he knew how to fix it.

Another explosion shook the ship as Keeble got up from his chair and went to find Kim. He found her talking to herself in a huge metal packing container.

"How desperately do we want to fly?" he asked poking his head through the door.

She nearly brained him with a metal bar.

"What do you mean?" Recovering her composure, she wiped sweat from her brow and sat down.

"I think I could have us flying in a couple of hours, but not in optimum circumstances."

"Meaning?"

He sighed. "Meaning, the two Gravitic Field Generators are out of alignment. If I disconnect them and we run off only one, that should solve the problem. I think. But then we're left with the question of which generator is aligned correctly, and can I realign them once we're flying." Keeble knew what he'd choose. He'd be flying as soon as possible and worry about the rest later.

But he had to admit that Kim was in charge and probably the best person for the job. It wasn't something he wanted to admit. It wasn't something that he should have to admit. It wasn't right. But Kim had managed to get them all to this point. She was the only one who understood something of all the areas they might happen to need. She could fly a plane, and she'd worked out other things.

But there was more to leading than knowing things. There was also acting, making a decision and running with it, and Keeble had never known any woman who could do that when it was really needed.

"Worse case scenario if we go with the one generator?" Kim asked.

She knew as much as he did, but he answered. "You can't fly with any sort of control at all because the alignment is out, and we crash." He didn't know what a single unaligned field generator could do, if anything, but it sounded reasonable. Or perhaps the two Gravitic fields just had to be aligned with each other and nothing else. "Or we get into space and have to stop to do repairs and get attacked. Or the generator fails when we really need it."

"Do you really have any idea, or are you guessing?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, but I'd like to know anyway."

Another thing he didn't want to admit. "I'm guessing." No dwarf liked to guess.

"Okay, well, a couple of hours to disconnect the generators and get us flying that way. How long to align them?"

Keeble shrugged.

"Guess."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I really don't know."

"The computer doesn't tell you?"

"Probably, but I didn't get that far."

"Right. Well, I say let's fly. Disconnect the things, and let's worry about the rest later. People are dying as we speak."

Keeble nodded. You have to know when to stop thinking and start doing. He smiled slightly. And when you decide to do things, you have to decide with conviction.

"Give me a couple of hours."

"Great. Can I help?"

"No. It's just a case of finding the right panels and disconnecting the right wires. I think."

"Okay. Then let me know when you're done."

At least she didn't pretend to know how to fix anything.

"Keeble."

"What?"

"See if you can talk to Cuto about making those adjustments to the radio."

"What adjustments?"

"So we can talk to the hurgon."

"Oh. Right."

Keeble returned to the engineering department and the computers. Three quarters of an hour later, his eyes were starting to ache and his head was spinning with all the words and diagrams. He hoped Meledrin was feeling at least a little bit of what he was feeling. If she was, she didn't show it. He scowled at her and switched the machine off. He knew all he needed to know. All he had to do now was find where he needed to go and find out what he needed to do, exactly.

There was a stone panel in the corner that led to the first of the engines. He touched the wall. The first sounds of his Song sprang into his mind, and he started to Sing them. He didn't need to concentrate like he had not so long ago. It was like he was breathing, thoughtless and easy. While he Sang, he turned away from the panel and started to search for tools in the cabinets around the walls. After a moment, Cuto searched as well.

A few minutes later, the alien said something.

"Cuto has found some tools," Meledrin said.

Keeble went to look. "Good. Just what we need." He tried a hand signal that he'd seen Meledrin use several times. Cuto tilted its head to the left in reply.

"What did I just say?"

"You said 'Good.' The tilting of Cuto's head to the left is equivalent to a smile"

"Good." He took the large box down from the cabinet and carried it across the room. It was full of all manner of tools. Keeble recognized some of them.

Cuto followed and poked through the tools for a moment. Keeble scowled again. He couldn't work out if Cuto was male or female. Should the alien be allowed to work? Or should it be made to keep out of the way? No decent dwife would consider trying to work. Except Ari. Ari had wanted to work. He remembered that she'd mended his socks while he worked in the tunnels. She'd cleaned her own room in the bunker, despite him saying she wasn't allowed. Meledrin wouldn't try to do any real work, but everyone knew that elves were lazy.

The alien picked up something and examined it, turning it from side to side. Then another one. A wave of hand signals.

"Cuto recognizes some of the tools," Meledrin translated, "but not all."

Keeble returned his attention to his Song, which he'd continued during the search, and started to build the higher layers. With the toolbox in hand, he stepped up to the wall and through it into a small recessed area. Cuto followed.

Keeble reigned in his thoughts. Hope this is the best engine to disconnect. There may have been something in the computer to tell him, but he didn't know how to find it. He shrugged and got to work. He was starting to work like an elf, no concrete plans. Almost making it up as he went along. If Milo could see him now.

He used a wonderful, automatic, star-shaped screwdriver to undo a set of four screws and carefully laid aside the panel they'd been holding. With the panel removed, he could see the part he thought he was after, two and a half meters beyond. He crawled awkwardly into the hole, dragging the tools with him.

Cuto grunted and scratched out some words.

Keeble started, hitting his head on something hard and unforgiving. The alien was right behind him, squeezed in amongst the machinery. It was motioning towards the toolbox.

Keeble nodded and, free of his burden, moved quickly into a more open space and sat up to look. Cuto did the same.

"Let's see what we have here, then," he said to himself.  He identified what was called the coupling block and set to work.

The instructions for disconnecting the generator were inscribed on Keeble's mind, but he didn't blindly follow. He found the first control panel that needed to be modified. It was only a minor operation, but he wanted to do everything right. He sorted through the wires, identified the terminals.

"Give me some..." But Cuto didn't understand, so he turned and pointed. The alien found the right tools and offered a simple, one-handed signal as it handed them over.

With each task he needed to complete, Keeble checked to see the results of what he intended to do, following pipes and electrical wires and circuits from here to there and back again. Every time he disconnected something, he connected it again to make sure it could be done.

Every time he needed a tool, Cuto found it, held it out, and translated into sign language or gave the alien version of a shrug. More than once the alien was there to lend a hand, working with solid concentration and a steady grip. Its big hands, with three fingers and a thumb and too many knuckles by far, were as strong as clamps but also surprisingly dexterous.

In an hour the job was done, or at least Keeble thought it was. He turned to look at Cuto. The alien shrugged an alien shrug.

"I guess we'll find out." He packed away the tools and followed Cuto back out into the engineering bay. And now for the next job. He shook his head and asked Meledrin, who was studying the computer, to ask Cuto about the radio.

32: Fly

Kim didn't go straight to the hold. For a while she just wandered around the ship, shining her lantern in through doors and into corners that hadn't seen light for about fifty thousand years. There was a hangar with a couple of strange looking craft parked untidily about. There was a cup sitting on a desk in a small office near there. Kim stared at it for five minutes, imagining the man or woman who had once sat in the chair, drinking and talking. Working on some small problem that had come up. Or playing solitaire on the computer while the boss wasn't looking. Shivering, she hurried on.

In the hold she found a crate with a partially opened door. Putting the lantern on the floor, Kim gripped the handle and pulled. At first she thought nothing at all was going to happen, then it creaked open further. A sliver of light made it through the gap and revealed smaller boxes full of shiny silvery bags and square black containers. There were labels, but Kim couldn't decipher anything. In the end, she bit the bullet and tore open one of the bags. It contained what might have been food. The dry block crumbled to dust in her fingers. Then she fiddled with one of the square containers for five minutes before the lid came off. Inside was a gloopy mess that actually smelled pretty good. Maybe it was food. Maybe it was still edible. She hadn't really given any thought to what they'd all eat. She had the tins of baked beans, or whatever it was they'd stolen from Area 51, but that wasn't going to last very long at all.

She dipped her finger into the slop, raised it to her mouth, then thought better of it. She would wait until she was a bit hungrier yet.

The dull boom of another explosion echoed slightly around the hold. It all seemed so far away, like someone else's life, or a bad movie on TV in another room. Kim tried to forget about it.

There were no other open containers that she could see, so Kim grabbed a door handle at random and pulled. Nothing happened. The handle was stuck. She tried another with the same result and decided she'd need a tool. A big, heavy, bashing tool.

She found a metal bar in a corner and used it first to pound, then to lever. Eventually the handle gave up and did as she wanted. And inside the container was machinery of some kind. It was beyond her to even come up with a sensible guess as to the purpose of anything. Can openers, which might be handy for getting to the baked beans, or planet destroying weapons.

She made her way through half a dozen more containers, wrestling with every door but one. Standing in the most recent container, lantern throwing her shadow across more piles of the unknown, Kim wiped sweat from her face and wondered if there was anything to drink. Preferably alcoholic. Great rebel leader she'd turned out to be. She'd stolen a spaceship that wasn't going anywhere and a cargo load of nothing useful. At least, as far as she knew. Meledrin would be handy to help with some translation but was busy doing more important things.

"Shit." Fixing the engines wasn't a lot of point if they couldn't talk to the aliens.

Kim jumped when another shadow joined hers. She spun, metal bar ready, and saw Keeble poking his head in through the door. Perfect timing.

"How desperately do we want to fly?" he asked.

Kim didn't want to sit around in the dark — lantern lit or not — for any longer than was necessary. They needed to fly, to talk to the aliens, to end the war. She thought of telling the dwarf that outright but thought he might appreciate a bit more thought going in to the matter. It all came down to the same answer in the end, though. She also mentioned the radio and received the expected scowl in response. Priorities, woman.

When the dwarf stumped away, grumbling to himself but obviously pleased with the idea of fiddling with the ship, Kim made her way back out into the hold. She looked around. There were containers everywhere. Some were piled neatly while others looked as if they'd been dumped, ready to organize later. The point was, there were hundreds of them, plus a whole extra level down below. She could search all day and still miss all the good stuff.

"Well then, I guess I could go work out how to fly this thing."

But she needed to eat first. They'd all gone too long without food already.

Collecting her lantern she made her way to the lift and up to the mess. She organized a meal of tinned spaghetti in tomato sauce and not much else. She took some down to the engineering department. Cuto sniffed at some then gave the hand signal for 'no' and said something.

"Cuto does not need to eat yet. And even if there was need, Cuto is unsure of what you are offering." Meledrin poked at hers with her spoon and raised her eyebrows. Apparently she wasn't sure either.

"If you don't want it," Kim said, "just let me know. There'll just be more for the rest of us."

Keeble was already eating. Kim divided Cuto's portion between the other bowls, skipping Meledrin's when the elf gave a small shake of her head.

On the bridge Tuki was still playing with the skyglass, hardly even noticing when she arrived. He only looked up when Kim offered the food, accepting it with a slight smile. When another explosion thundered in the hangar outside, he quickly turned back to his study. It was as if he was using it as a distraction. Kim didn't have any encouraging words for him. She didn't think the ship was being damaged, Keeble would have said something otherwise, but the constant battering wasn't doing much for her state of mind either.

She climbed up to the pilot's chair and examined the controls as she ate. They'd worked out which button started the engines. Other than that, she decided, she could work from what she knew of the controls in the ship they'd stolen from the Americans. Except there was no steering wheel. It seemed to have been replaced with a ball, which sat on a pedestal directly in front of the seat. The pedestal wouldn't move, so it wasn't a joystick, but the ball rotated in all directions. "Perhaps in a life without gravity you needed steering wheels that could point up and down, and all the points between, as easily as left or right." Which would mean that the thing they stole from Area 51 had only been a plane after all.

The ball was colored a pleasant, pastel green and decorated with a pattern of concentric circles. On one side, the circles were so close together that they were almost indistinguishable from each other. In the center of the smallest was a red spot. The further you went from that spot, the further the lines were apart. The effect meant that, no matter which direction the ball was facing, you could always tell exactly where the red spot was. There was a blue spot directly opposite, in the middle of a smooth, blank area.

There was what looked like an altitude knob but it could also be moved like a regular joystick. And there were three pedals instead of just the one that was in the plane they'd stolen. Added to the mix was a lever, currently set in what appeared to be the neutral position, halfway along its range.

They seemed to be the main controls, but there were dozens of buttons and switches besides. There were another two little levers side by side. Switches and knobs, gauges and screens and dials.

So, the ball for steering. The knob for lift and something else. The lever for something, and the pedals for...

"Shit."

When Keeble, Meledrin, and Cuto stepped into view an hour later she hadn't made any further progress.

"Do you know how to fly yet?" the dwarf asked.

"No. But I wasn't game to try anything until everyone was in here and strapped in."

"Well, I don't think Cuto sits down, but Meledrin and I can." He made his way to his chair.

Kim's mouth dropped open. "You mean we're ready to go?" She wasn't ready.

"Yes. Well, maybe." As usual, Keeble didn't seem pleased with not knowing for sure.

"The Gravitic Field Generators are separated?"

"Yes."

"Well, do you think we should go now? Or get some sleep first?"

"The hull is still holding together, but who knows for how long? Those American's don't quit, do they?"

"But..."

"Let's fly."

"Okay. I'll try."

Keeble gave a whoop of joy and hurried to strap himself in. Meledrin followed suit, though she didn't look quite as excited. Cuto crouched down behind the horseshoe of seats and locked meaty hands around a backrest.

Kim looked at the controls in front of her and then at her companions. She couldn't blame them for their nervousness. "Should we name the ship first?" she asked, trying to delay the moment as much as possible.

Keeble had a sour look on his face but was nodding. "It's traditional, I suppose."

Her first idea was Kittyhawk, but she was sure the Americans would already have taken that one. "How about The Hakahei?"

"What the hell is that?"

"It's what the Hurgon call our worlds."

Meledrin looked as if she didn't care. Possibly she was staying silent in case she started jabbering like a normal person. Tuki was still staring at the skyglass, fiddling with the controls.

Keeble was over it as well. "Whatever."

"Right. Hakahei it is, then." It wasn't quite the reaction Kim was after, though she didn't really know what she'd been expecting. She took a deep breath and, out of excuses, turned her attention to the controls once more. "So, what do I do now?"

Keeble grunted. "Don't lose your nerve now, woman."

"What?"

"Start the engine. You know the button."

Kim pressed the button. Her heart was racing like a jazz drum solo.

On a small screen to her left, an iconic, profile view of the ship appeared. The two legs shown on the bottom of the craft flashed a few times then disappeared. Down in the corner of the screen a small picture of the legs appeared colored in red.

"Umm..."

"What is it?"

"I think we're flying."

"But we aren't moving."

"Well, no." The Americans certainly were, scurrying like cockroaches caught in the light. From her vantage point, Kim could see soldiers out in the hanger, all making for the limited protection of the far wall, pulling out their weapons like those cockroaches shaking their fists at a passing car. Or like knights with cannons.

Only one thing seemed to have changed on the panel. There were now three indicating lines near the altitude knob. Two of them showed all red, but the final line had one bar of green.

"Well," Keeble said, "start with a control that doesn't look very important. See what happens."

"All right then." She picked a dial and, with a deep breath and one eye closed, slowly spun it. "The ship's spinning," she said with a laugh, watching as a wall came into view outside. So much for the green ball being the steering wheel.

"I'm not so sure," Keeble said. He unbuckled himself from his seat and went to the view port for a closer look.

"What do you mean? I saw it."

"Do it again."

Kim spun the dial in the other direction, hoping to get them facing the door once more.

Keeble gave a grunt. "The dome is spinning, but the ship itself isn't moving."

"Are you sure?"

The dwarf looked back over his shoulder.

As the bridge continued to turn, Kim noticed something. "Hey, the ball doesn't move." She indicated the pastel ball she'd thought was the steering wheel.

"What?" Keeble came closer.

Kim turned the dial. The bridge spun, but the ball stayed in exactly the same position, as if the whole structure was spinning about the pedestal.

"Keeble, how does the engine work?"

The dwarf didn't have anything to say.

"You understand the concept of gravity, right."

He gave her a look that spoke volumes.

"Well, just because you're controlled by gravity doesn't mean your people have given it any real thought. Or that you know how it works. But anyway, let's assume that the Gravitic Field Generators somehow create gravity. Or antigravity."

"Well, all those big holes or funnels or whatever they are on the outside of the ship seem to do two things. Something goes out of them, and something comes in."

Kim ignored that. "First of all, for the sake of convenience, let’s say that the funnel surrounded by those four antennas is at the front. No, let's call it north. Okay."

"All right."

The look on Keeble's face showed what he thought of that idea, but Kim knew it would be best because she was sure she knew how it worked. She was pretty sure she knew how it worked. She smiled and did a little jig in her seat.

"Here's how it is," she said. "Gravity can be funneled out any of those funnel things and that obviously dictates the direction you travel. Right? Right. So, what you do is, you use this ball to point the gravity in the right direction."

"So, where is the gravity now, then?" Keeble asked. "How do we make it funnel?"

Kim examined the main controls. "We use this lever for thrust," Kim said. "Forward and backward."

"And why does this room spin around? And when the room spins, why doesn't the ball?"

"Only the room spins and the ball doesn't because there isn't really any forward or backward for this ship. We can go in whatever direction we want without actually turning the ship around. So, if the room didn't spin we'd sometimes be looking in the wrong direction. And the ball doesn't turn with the room because we want to be able to look in all directions without actually changing directions."

"But the lever? You said it was to make us go forward and backwards, then you said there is no forward or backward."

That was obvious as well. There was a blue dot on the top side of the range and a red one at the bottom. "This way means we move towards the red dot." Or was it away? Kim pushed the lever a fraction of a centimeter away from the neutral position. She'd forgotten the engine was running, until the Hakahei started to move.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." It took a moment for Kim to gather her wits and shift the lever back to neutral. Luckily, she hadn't moved the lever far and luckily the dot was directing them away from the wall. Momentum carried the ship forward, and it wasn't until they scraped along the side of another vessel that they finally stopped.

"Okay," she muttered, "we move away from the dot. I hope someone remembered to renew the insurance."

The others all looked at her.

"Give me a break."

"So, are we going to sit here until the Americans work out how to shoot us, or are we going to leave?"

Kim looked at the others.

"I'd rather crash out there than get shot in here," Keeble said. The others didn't look so sure.

"But they can't get us," Kim said. "They can't get in. Otherwise they would have gotten into the ship at Area 51. In fact, this one is probably tougher, because I think the other one is only a plane."

"So we just sit here until we starve, then?"

"I found food in the hold. Dried, sealed, in tins. All sorts of long-life stuff."

"Long life? 50,000 years?"

"Maybe."

"So what was the point of all this if we're just going to sit here?"

"The point was to talk to the hurgon and stop this war."

"Right. How will we do that sitting here?"

"Does the radio work? The hurgon might be able to hear us from here."

Keeble sighed. "Try it then."

"Right. Meledrin."

"Yes, Kim?"

"See if you can get the hurgon on the radio for me."

"I am not aware of the method for doing that. Is it accomplished from this work station?"

"Yes. I think so."

Cuto interrupted and Meledrin turned to listen "Cuto says that the hangar doors are closing."

"What? Shit."

The two huge hangar doors were starting to slide closed like twin glaciers. Kim froze for a moment and totally forgot the little she knew about flying the ship.

"Don't just sit there," Keeble said. "We're quickly losing one of our only two options."

Kim took a deep breath. She fiddled with the steering ball — all forward, no up or down, and watched the doors close some more.

"Move, woman."

Kim closed one eye and nudged the thrust lever.

"Go straight, for Whistler's sake."

"I'm pointing at the door but it isn't going that way." They pushed amidst a flotilla of smaller ships until she adjusted slightly and had them going in generally the right direction.

"Of course it isn't your fault. Never is."

"Keeble," Meledrin said, "is it not true that the engines were incorrectly aligned?"

Keeble grunted. "Maybe the engines aren't aligned with the steering ball," he admitted.

Kim didn't care. "Whatever," she snapped. "It wasn't going straight." She tried to calm down.

"Well, we're going the right way now, I suppose." Keeble gestured towards the doors. "A bit faster would be good, though."

They weren't going to make it, was what he meant. Kim nudged the thrust lever a bit further. It was hardly above neutral at all, but the ship lurched forward, picking up speed. The Americans were either scattering again or firing their weapons, as if each hoped their bullet would be the one that broke the camel's back.

"Are we going to make it?" Kim asked. The doors seemed to be closing very quickly now, although they probably hadn't changed speed at all.

"I don't think so."

Cuto said something as well, but Meledrin didn't bother translating. The elf was staring at the doors as if indignation alone would keep them open. Apparently it wouldn't.

Kim adjusted her aim slightly, increasing thrust again. They scraped along the side of a smaller ship and slewed slightly. Before she could work out how to fix the problem they crashed into the edge of one of the still closing doors. The ship nearly stopped. It spun, pushing against the door, until they were almost facing back the way they'd come. The other door was approaching. Amidst her panic, Kim had a moment of inspiration. She reversed the thrust and the ship hesitated for a moment before popping out onto the exterior platform while Kim spun the bridge.

The ship quickly gained speed. It dropped serenely over the edge and out over the forest. It slid down towards the bottom of the valley, nudging trees out of the way as it went.

"More up would be nice," Keeble said. He was holding on tightly.

Meledrin had her eyes closed. Tuki was staring out the window like a man watching a train rush towards him.

Kim nodded, trying to think. There was the steering ball and the altitude knob. She tried the knob first. The ship certainly got further from the ground, but not much. It seemed to max out at about a hundred meters.

Keeble shook his head. "Space looks more like a planet than I thought it would."

"Shut up, Keeble." Biting her lip as they continued towards the bottom of the valley Kim examined the steering ball. She reached out for it. So many things could go wrong. Was she missing something? "What have we missed?"

"Certainly not any trees. We hit every one, I think."

"Well what about... Have you checked on life support?"

"What?"

"Life support. I told you there's no air in space, remember? So something on this ship makes air. And the ship has to be airtight so it doesn't all escape."

"How am I supposed to check that?'

Meledrin, much put upon, sighed and went to look. It didn't take long.

"Everything is green," Keeble said. "That's good, right?"

"I think it is. What color were the displays when the Americans were shooting at us before? Green is good on Earth today, but how am I supposed to know. Shit. What about fuel?"

"Checked it earlier. According to the computers we have 87% fuel."

"Right. Okay. Are we ready then, folks?"

Nobody said they weren't. Kim still wasn't ready. She didn't know if she would ever be, but she decreased the thrust slightly and spun the steering ball so the dot was facing almost directly down. She felt the heavy hand of G-forces for a moment as the ship started to climb.

33: You Are Here

Tuki stared as the ship surged upwards. All he could see was sky, but he could not take his eyes off it.

I am closer to the Goddess than any moai has been for millennia, he thought.

He offered a silent prayer to Poti. He would have looked to the four points of the compass to offer his thanks, but he was strapped in his chair, and with no ground on which to locate himself, the idea of directions seemed meaningless.

The world was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly, though it was surely still day below, an endless array of stars sprang into view.

"Batteries are charging," Keeble said. "The ship is taking something in through the funnels that aren't being used and converting it to power."

The dwarf sounded a lot more vague than he had recently, and Tuki wondered if he was slipping back into wherever he had been before. He stole a worried glance at his friend. Immediately he knew nothing was wrong. Keeble could hardly concentrate on his monitor. He stole glances at it every now and then, but otherwise the scene outside trapped his gaze.

"Don't worry about the batteries, Keeb'. What about life support? Check that again." Kim was obviously trying to keep her mind on the matters at hand, as well, but not having much more success than Keeble. Tuki saw her craning her neck to try and see everything at once. "Wow."

Meledrin did not look like she had been affected at all. She continued to translate into Cuto's sign language as she calmly surveyed the view, as if she had seen something as magnificent every day of her life.

"We're still moving," Tuki said after a moment. He thought it might be a good idea if they stopped, for a short while at least, so they could get their bearings. He watched Meledrin, trying to decipher her signals, but it wasn't easy.

"Shit, shit, shit. We aren't just moving, we're accelerating."

Tuki watched the view. He didn't see what Kim did to halt their progress but could feel when it happened. He thought he could tell when they stopped completely.

"Tuki, can you show us a view of where we are?"

Tuki looked at Kim for a moment, his heart racing. She wanted him to show her on the skyglass. But no, not just that, she wanted to see from her own seat.

This is what I am here for, Tuki thought. Keeble is here to fix the engines. Kim is here to drive, and Meledrin to talk to people. I am here to show them all the way. Which was a horrible thought. He was merely a go'gan. Did they not realize? He should not be telling them anything. He should wait and watch and do as he was told.

"Tuki?"

"Yes, mo'min?"

"Show us."

Tuki had been practicing with the controls earlier, but suddenly he could remember nothing at all. He decided to work on the skyglass first and worry about the rest later.

Touching his finger to the cool, smooth glass, he spoke the word that made the 'glass the center of the view. Then he made the view step back slightly, so more could be seen. And again. Soon, the world below was in view — or was there no below, now — and the moon halfway around the far side. Plus fifty-three yellow dots that could only be other ships like their own, except driven by the hurgon. Not meteors as he had once thought.

"One thing I don't understand," Keeble said from across the other side of the room. Tuki tried to block the sounds out as he concentrated. "I understand how we were all shaped this way by the gods so we could all do our work on these starships. Well, not how, but why. Dwarves are small so we can climb around in all the little nooks and crannies to fix things. Meledrin looks all calm and controlled and important or something, maybe so we look good to strangers. And Kim, you... Well, I don't know about you. Maybe flying the ship doesn't need anything special. But Tuki? If he's just here to be a map-reader, why is he so big? I mean, he could do that if he was my size, couldn't he?"

Tuki did look up then. The whole conversation was really about him. He listened as he worked.

Kim was nodding. "I've been thinking about that, and I think I know the answer. There's a book on Earth called The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's a comedy book, but still. In it, the author describes a form of torture. People are taken into a room and shown a map of the entire universe, the whole thing, with a little sign saying 'you are here' pointing to where they are in the universe. And it doesn't just show them, it makes them understand."

"So?"

"Well, most individuals in the book go crazy when they see that, because they realize just how totally insignificant they really are."

"That's just stupid."

"Not really. You don't know how big the universe is, Keeble. I'll tell you."

"Are you sure I won't go crazy?" Keeble said with a smile.

"No, because you won't really understand. You won't be able to picture this. Okay, light travels at about 300,000 kilometers per second, I think. More or less. Do you understand that much? Light isn't an instantaneous thing – it has to travel."

"Like sound?"

"Exactly. Only much, much, quicker."

"300,000 kilometers per second?"

"Yep. Now, a light-year isn't a measure of time, but a measure of distance. It's the distance light will travel in a standard year of Earth time. Still with me?"

"Yes."

Tuki didn't think he sounded sure.

"You know how long a second is?"

"Yes."

"Right, well an Earth year is..." Kim squinted and cocked her head to one side. "Shit. Sixty seconds in a minute, 3600 seconds in an hour, twenty four hours in a day..."

Tuki worked it out easily. "86,400 seconds in a day," he said.

And Kim turned to look at him. Tuki looked back down at the skyglass and blushed.

"Okay." Kim was nodding her head slowly and still looking at Tuki when he stole a glance a few seconds later. "86,400 seconds in a day. And 365 days in a year, Tuki?"

"31,536,000 seconds in a year."

"So, this light travelling at 300,000 kilometers per second will travel how many kilometers in a year, Tuki?"

He juggled the numbers in his head. He started to sweat. "Do you want exactly?"

"No, close will do."

"Well, I do not know how to say the number. In the decimal system that humans seem to use, it is a bit more than nine with twelve zeros after it."

"Nine trillion? Do you know the decimal system, Keeble?"

"Yes."

"So you understand a nine with twelve zeros after it?"

"Of course."

"Big number isn't it?"

"Yes."

"That many kilometers in a light year. Right?"

"Yes, but I don't see the point. Who uses numbers that big?"

"That's the thing, bud'. From the star the Earth orbits to the next closest star is about four light years. Or five light years. Four or five light years."

"Four of those light years in distance?" Keeble gaped.

Tuki looked back to his work so as not to stare at the dwarf. He noticed that the dots that showed the alien ships were starting to move. The picture Tuki was looking at was still only in the skyglass.

Kim continued. "That's right. Now, I'm sure you're sitting there thinking, 'Wow, what a big number that is'. And intellectually, I'm sure you realize that completely. But to realize and to truly understand are two different things. I don't understand. I think that if I did, I may well just curl up and whimper for the rest of my life. Especially since I now think I can fly between those stars, and it's not just an interesting notion any more. But I think Tuki really has to understand.

"And, I think, because he has to carry all those huge ideas of numbers and space around in his head, the gods had to add that extra layer to his brain. Airman Dongoske said he had an extra bit in there." Kim got a thoughtful look. "Or maybe that's the bit that let's him control the skyglass."

"Umm... mo'min..." Tuki said.

"So? Why make his body bigger?"

Kim sighed. "Because they had to make his head bigger. He'd look really stupid with a huge head and normal sized body."

"Oh."

Tuki didn't want to interrupt, but thought he really should tell Kim about what was happening. "Mo'min." He finally remembered the combination of buttons he had to press and worked up the nerve to try them. He stabbed at the moai-sized buttons with shaking fingers, and the scene shown in the skyglass flickered into existence in the top of the dome. He knew he could press another button to label the different aspects of the scene, but seeing nobody would know what the labels meant, he didn't bother. "I think the alien ships are coming towards us."

"What? Alien ships? What alien ships?"

Tuki divided his glance between the display above and the window of amazing glass. "There are fifty-three alien ships coming towards us."

"Christ. Turn the radio on. Get Cuto talking to them."

Keeble made his way up to Meledrin's console. He counted controls, flicked switches, and pushed buttons.

"The radio is on," he said, "but there's nothing to hear."

"Have you tried all frequencies?"

"We rerouted one of the controls."

Cuto said something.

"Cuto asks if you have the radio on shower or beam?" Meledrin translated.

Tuki had no idea what either of those things were, but apparently Keeble did.

The dwarf swore under his breath. "It's on beam and aimed at nobody," he said, hitting some buttons with needless force. Whatever he did fixed the problem, for the harsh alien language burst into the air like a flock of startled crows.

"Does Cuto need to come up here to speak with the hurgon," Meledrin asked.

"Probably not," Kim replied, with Meledrin translating, "but for now it will probably be easier."

Cuto went up to stand near Meledrin's chair and scanned the controls. It was Keeble who pressed the buttons though and pointed to a flexible stick that poked up above everything else. The alien started to speak.

Meledrin cocked her head to one side to listen. "I believe Cuto is speaking codes at the moment, offering greetings from an ally, verifying identity. Grandson Cuto — though 'grandson' is not right. It is merely the closest approximation I can make. It seems particularly complicated and convoluted, but I believe it is something like a rank. Grandson Cuto of the T'loop Family, Lo'anen Branch, As'elda Sub-branch — he has mentioned these previously — on board the human hakan construct." She tilted her head the other way. "Then a long string of numbers."

While Meledrin spoke, Tuki tried to watch her hand signals, but the image in the dome held his attention. The hurgon ships continued to get closer. They were a few thousand kilometers away, but that did not seem to be very far at all. Tuki divided the image into segments, counted seconds in his mind, and worked out that the aliens would only take a few minutes to arrive if they continued at their current speed. They did not appear to be listening to Cuto at all for the babble on the radio continued unchanged. According to Meledrin, Cuto was repeating his greeting and trying to talk to a 'Mother'. Any mother.

Remembering something he had tried earlier, Tuki pressed some buttons and an image of space appeared on the wall behind Kim's chair. Another button, and the focus shifted. From there he used a little lever and was quite proud when an image of the closest alien ship came into focus.

"It is as Cuto said," Tuki said softly. "The ship is alive." It was seven hundred meters long, green and lumpy, smudged and pulsing with life. It had four eyes on stalks and three tentacles reaching out kilometers behind it.

"What?" Kim asked. She was so busy concentrating on Cuto and the translation that she hadn't even noticed the image behind her.

Tuki pointed.

"Jesus." She sat silently for a minute. "It isn't at all like what I expected.

Tuki had not known what to expect at all when Cuto described the kil'ini. It was a strange and magnificent creature, but it and its fellows might kill them if Cuto was not successful very soon.

An alarm shrieked out of the strange ball-chair near Tuki, making him jump. His heart started to pound. He examined the chair for a moment, wondering what it meant, before looking back at his own controls. A red light was flashing. Words were scrolling across one of the screens. He couldn't read them, but he didn't think he needed to. There was a new dot on the image made by the skyglass. It was colored orange and was racing towards them from the closest kil'ini.

"Mo'min. I think they have fired a weapon at us." He didn't say it very loud. Even had he been certain, he didn't know if he could have spoken any louder.

"Pardon?"

Tuki cleared his throat. "I think they have fired a weapon at us." His fingers were trembling on the edge of the console.

Cuto stopped talking for a moment as Meledrin translated.

Keeble was working at his console, lips moving silently as he read. He stabbed at some buttons, and the alarm cut off as suddenly as it had started. The silence was eerie.

Eventually Cuto started talking again. There was an unmistakable note of urgency now.

Kim stared at the image. Her mouth was open, eyes wide. "Should we run?" she asked.

Tuki turned to look as well. His heart was still racing. His mouth was dry. Did Kim say there wasn't much water?

"Cuto says that hurgon weapons carried by the kil'ini are stronger than those carried by the kidol, but is unaware how successful they will be against this construct. Seeing it is the only one known to be flying, nobody can know."

"Right." Kim turned her attention to her controls. "Here goes then." She spun the ball and pushed the thrust lever.

The pressure of acceleration disappeared after a moment.

The dot was gaining on them.

"We will have to go faster, mo'min."

"What? That's all we've got." She pushed at the lever again, as if hoping she was somehow mistaken.

Tuki examined the moving images above him. He tried to calculate. Fifteen seconds, he thought. We will be caught in fifteen seconds. Should he tell Kim? He wasn't sure that he was right, so he remained silent and counted down in his head. The computer would probably tell him how long they had, but he couldn't even read as well as Keeble yet. Nobody had shown him how.

Three, two...

The ship was rocked by an explosion, then another, and it was set to spinning wildly. Tuki grabbed at the console in front of him, expecting to fall on his head. The ship tumbled through space, stars flashing past the window. Another explosion knocked them the other way. Though the ship somehow made it feel that they weren't spinning at all, Tuki felt he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes and held on.

"Hull breach in sector 178, level seven," Keeble shouted over the thunder of another hit. "That's something to do with fuel. I think." He seemed to be keeping calm through a sheer act of will, as if concentrating on his screens and controls, doing the tasks he had been assigned, would make the reality go away.

Tuki swallowed and forced his eyes open. Kim would know what to do. She had gotten them so far already.

He watched the kil'ini in the image in the dome. They were still catching up, spreading out as if to trap the ship in a net. He thought of telling Kim, but it didn't seem relevant. And he didn't know if he could make his voice work anyway.

"Shields are at 100%," Keeble added.

"Shields? What shields? How do we turn them on?"

"I don't know."

"No use then, Keeble." Kim was gripping her console, staring at the steering ball. It seemed to be spinning wildly, when really it was perfectly still and the ship was spinning. "Talk to them Cuto. What the hell are you doing?"

34: The Enemy

Meledrin glanced at Kim. "I will not translate that literally," she said. In fact she didn't say anything at all to Cuto. Though the alien seemed calm on the surface, it was obviously trying desperately to get through to their attackers. To suggest otherwise might be seen as an insult. Kim had no sense about how to deal with people.

"Cuto and the hakans have not attacked," the alien was saying. "The hakans will not attack. Cuto has information that could bring immense profit."

And finally, whether it was something that was said or how it was said, the chatter on the radio stopped and, after ten more seconds, the explosions stopped as well. A lone voice issued from the radio.

"This is Mother Konu of the F'nago Family with Re'angadano'a," Meledrin translated. "Is Cuto a prisoner? I believe that the failure to mention a family branch is significant. Re'angadano'a is the kil'ini." The elf cocked her head to listen again as Cuto replied. "Cuto is not a prisoner. The hakans aboard this construct rescued Cuto from a prison on Target World Three3."

"Why? Why should Mother Konu believe that Cuto is not under duress?"

"Have these hakans fired upon Re'angadano'a or any other kil'ini? Have the hakans made any threatening move at all?"

There was a moment of silence. "No. That does not mean this is not a trick. Or a trap of some kind."

The alien ships now completely surrounded the Hakahei. It would all be over very quickly if Cuto failed to convince Mother Konu.

"If that was the case, Cuto would have used the proper codes."

Another stretch of silence. "Are these hakans important? Can the hakans be ransomed?"

"No."

"Then where is this profit Cuto speaks of?"

"The profit would come with the end of the war."

Other hurgon, mothers and fathers from other kil'ini, joined the conversation. Meledrin listened as they discussed contract law and other subjects she did not understand. She did not translate all that was said, explaining to her companions that much of the detail was irrelevant.

"Do you think it worked?" Kim asked. "Have we stopped the war?"

Meledrin was unsure and said as much. "None of the hurgon here can make such a decision, but they can speak to their superiors. They can make recommendations." She paused to listen to Cuto. "Mother Kuno wishes to speak with the Mother on our ship. I believe that would be you, Kim. It is akin to a captain."

Kim suddenly looked very nervous. "Are you sure?" She took a deep breath but did not look any calmer when she was done. "Of course you are. Okay then. Pass on my greetings and thank what's-her-name for listening."

Meledrin raised an eyebrow. "What's-her-name?"

"You know who I mean. Kuno."

Meledrin shook her head in disgust. "Some respect would not be out of place."

"I respect them, I just can't pronounce their names properly."

Meledrin sighed and waved her hands in the ini rituals. Cuto translated into the microphone then paused to listen to the reply.

"Mother Konu says the F'nago Family are pleased to have the opportunity to speak with the hakans about a possible end to the war. Konu says if agreements can be reached it will bring much esteem and wealth to the F'nago and to Cuto's T'loop Family. Furthermore, lasting peace would —"

Meledrin paused in her translation as Konu commenced speaking again. She could not understand all the words, but it was immediately obvious that the alien was not pleased. Cuto interrupted Konu's interruption. Neither raised their voice or seemed overly agitated at all.

Meledrin was unable to believe what she was hearing. She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it closed. She gathered her thoughts and wove a Changing. "Konu says Cuto's deception has bought dishonor upon all the T'loop."

"What?" Kim said, almost shouting. "No. Come on, damn it."

Meledrin almost felt like shouting herself. She cleared her throat. "The F'nago and the other families holding Target World 1 will not let the action go unpunished. The Greater Council will hear of the deception. Sanctions will be enforced. Matters will —"

Four missiles struck the ship in quick succession, and Meledrin lost the thread of the conversation. Possibly the details didn't matter all that much in any case.

"What's going on?" Kim shouted.

It seemed obvious enough to Meledrin. She closed her eyes and hung on as the ship tumbled under a barrage of missiles. "Konu has ceased trusting us for some reason," she said into a moment of silence as she attempted to loosen her grip on the arms of her chair. "Cuto is currently discussing the matter with Konu."

"No shit?" Kim was staring at Cuto as if force of will could change the outcome of the conversation.

Meledrin did not understand the term, so made no reply.

"How many moons were there before?" Keeble asked.

She turned to examine the image in the dome overhead, which now also included the world they had fled. Something was different, though she could not quite grasp what it was.

"I'm not sure," Kim replied vaguely, glancing at the three-dimensional image located in the center of the room. "As long as I wasn't going to run into it, I didn't really care."

Meledrin had not taken particular notice, either. She had never considered the fact that there might be other than two.

"There was only one," Tuki said quietly.

Meledrin watched as well as the smaller of the two moons moved. She shifted nervously on her chair, weaving a Greater Beginning with shaking hands. It was an unseemly display but appeared to go unnoticed.

Meanwhile, Kim gasped and Keeble muttered under his breath.

"It is a ship," Tuki added hesitantly. He zoomed in but could not get close enough to see it clearly. "It is a cylinder, twenty point four kilometers long and two point three in diameter."

"Jesus."

Meledrin shifted again. She examined the ship but could not truly grasp the implications of the dimensions Tuki was listing.

"It's killing the aliens," Keeble said.

The small yellow dots of the aliens were disappearing from the view overhead. Those closest to the strange ship went first. The others were scattering.

"Are you sure they're being killed?" Kim asked, almost as quietly as Tuki. She was leaning forward in her chair as if wishing to go to help the hurgon. "Or are they just disappearing?"

"Some were shot," Tuki confirmed.

"Are you sure?"

Tuki suddenly looked as if he was not sure. He glanced at Kim for a moment, then back at his screens. "Some are leaving of their own accord now. Others are dying."

Meledrin was unsure if a young saveigni such as Tuki could be trusted to make such a judgment but was not about to argue. The yellow dots were disappearing by the handful. Those that chose to remain were moving randomly, dodging towards the newcomer as they fired their weapons, if she was interpreting all the dots correctly. But all their maneuvering seemed to do nothing more than delay the inevitable for scant seconds.

"Mother Konu obviously believes this recent arrival fights at our behest," Meledrin said. She sat back in her seat and smoothed down her dress to disguise the shaking of her hands. The rapid beating of her heart could not be controlled so easily.

To have come so far to fail now.

Cuto was the first to notice that the image on the back wall had changed. Shifting away, the alien pointed and Meledrin turned to look. Where previously there had been a view of the stars outside, now there was a perfectly white, reflective, humanoid face. It was perfectly symmetrical, perfectly formed. Too perfect to be real.

The cold, dark eyes flickered. The mouth moved rapidly as if the androgynous being were mumbling. Symbols came and went at the bottom of the screen. They slowed. Slowed. Slowed. Stopped. Meledrin could read the word. It said 'Rongo', the language of Kiva.

"Where are you running?" the creature inquired a moment later. Its voice, like its face, was expressionless. It was a dull monotone. "Like ninth level beings leaving a stricken vessel, you scurry for safety. You cannot run fast enough."

On the screen, the creature smiled, but merely as if it had seen a smile somewhere else and wanted to see how the gesture tasted. "Multeese will kill these hurgon," it said, "and then chase you at our leisure."

Meledrin could understand passion, any type of passion, but the face of the creature did not suggest it would gain anything at all from killing them. Thinking of its vessel, she did not doubt that it would kill them. In an instant. The ease with which it was destroying the kil'ini suggested it would be no effort at all.

"Run all you like. It makes no difference to us. Multeese superiority is unchallenged, though even fifth and six level creatures, all claiming some form of intelligence, never admit that before their deaths."

Kim nodded, a cold look in her eyes. "Well, let us get to our running then."

The figure on the screen paused, as if attempting to drag another expression from its memory and failing. "We will kill you."

"We'll be expecting you."

"You will not escape."

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you," Kim said. She turned to Meledrin. "Switch that damn thing off, would you."

Meledrin had not turned the image on in the first instance, but the expression on Kim's face made her withhold any comments. After a moment of hesitation as she attempted to remember, Meledrin selected a button and pressed. The screen did not go blank, but the cold, white face froze.

Tuki looked terrified.

Keeble was shaking his head. "So, you were trying to get us killed?" he said to Kim. "There are easier ways of committing suicide."

Kim shrugged.

Keeble was hitting buttons. "We have to get back to the planet."

"We aren't going down there."

"It's our only chance, woman."

Kim was staring at the screen, as if trying to memories the face of the alien. "Us going down there will kill everyone, one way or the other. Even if that guy doesn't kill us, then the hurgon will."

"You don't want to be friends with this new alien?" Keeble asked with a sneer.

"There was always a spark of compassion in the hurgon."

Meledrin slowly sat back in her seat. She felt the need to wave a ceremony but was unsure which might be most suitable. Greater Beginning? Greater Ending? Greater Changing? Perhaps an 'ini ritual would be better. In the end, she did none. "Then what is it you are proposing?" She did not wish to admit to agreeing with Keeble.

"We run."

"Why?" Tuki asked quietly. "It was killing the kil'ini easily."

Kim sighed. "I haven't come all this way to give up now. I haven't come all this way to die without a fight."

Meledrin had seen Kim like this on one another occasion. At Sherwood Forest, her determination had been partially obscured by her uncertainty, but here it was burning fiercely. Greater Beginning.

"So, that's your plan then? We run?"

"Part of it. Meledrin has to get on her radio and warn the Americans, give them time to prepare for an attack as well. And we have to run faster, because the longer we last, the longer they have. Right?"

Keeble depressed some buttons and checked his console. He still read slowly, but seemed to be improving remarkably quickly for a dwarf. "We were going two kilometers a second under our own power. The hurgon bombs gave us a push along though, so now we're doing double that."

"Good." Kim appeared slightly stunned by the figures. She checked her safety belt. "Meledrin, you're just sitting there? Find the Americans for me. I need to talk to them."

Meledrin did not like Kim's tone but was accustomed to it by now. She sighed and turned to do as she had been asked.

"They appeared out of nowhere," the dwarf pointed out. "Can we really outrun them?"

Kim shrugged. "Who knows? But leading them to the hangar down there will be a very bad idea. Those ships are the only real hope we have at the moment. So, we have to warn the Americans and draw the bad guy away."

"We don't even know how to fly this thing properly," Keeble added. "And we're running on one engine."

"Well then, we'd better all learn and get things working." Kim examined her controls. "I'd better start by stopping all this spinning."

Meledrin studied her companions.

Keeble shook his head but turned his attention to his screens. Tuki strapped himself in and examined the skyglass, as if answers to all their problems lay within. Cuto was crouching adjacent to the center of the bridge, gripping the back of a chair. The strangest group of allies an elf had ever known. Was this truly the group that could save all the hakan people? Or would they merely be the first to go?

Probably they would be killed, but perhaps Kim was correct. Perhaps their own deaths were insignificant compared to the thousands of deaths that might well occur. Delfrana had scorned her desire to help Keeble because he was merely a dwarf. Meledrin had done it anyway. And she felt the same obligation now. Neither her companions nor their peoples deserved to die, no matter that they were not elves.

The frozen image of the alien looked down from the screen on the rear wall with cold dark eyes. Meledrin felt a shiver run down her spine. She was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been.

With a glance around to be sure nobody was looking, Meledrin licked her lips and turned her attention to the controls.

There was work to do and only herself to do it.

If you enjoyed ‘The Space Between’ please consider going here to write a review. If you didn’t enjoy ‘The Space Between’, then I’m not sure why you read this far, but you could go write a review as well. To sign up for Tengama News and keep up to date on my book, go here.

Thank you for reading.

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END PART 1

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Tribes of the Hakahei:

Part 2

Singing Other Worlds

by

Scott J. Robinson

(Copyright 2012)

This book is

dedicated to

Bayli and Noah

Who both love books as much as I do.

Contents

    Prologue

1: A Damaged Ship

2: The Time Comes

3: Books

4: Sharp Bits

5: Gates of the Hakahei

6: One Good Thing

7: Wrong Church

8: Elephant Tower

9: Djinns of Smoke

10: Engineering

11: New Friends

12: Swinging Cats

13: Challenges

14: Better Offers

15: Dry River

16: Untold Landscapes

17: The Same World

18: Different Types

19: Take the Sky

20: Clockwork Dogs

21: Wrong Choices

22: Look of the Sun

23: Bigger Problems

24: Mother Blower

25: Skyglasses

26: All the Stars

27: Ruins in the Desert

28: Clocks

29: Interesting Thoughts

30: Different Angles

31: Wanderer

32: A Slight Problem

33: One Task

34: Manual Operations

35: Fun to Be Had

36: Cliffs of Knowledge

37: Simple Machines

38: Lightning

39: All of Space

Prologue

***

Elsewhen

Eventually, a new voice erupted from the speakers.

“This is Major Harrison Williams. Have you called us to gloat, Miss McLean? I wouldn’t bother. We’ll catch you soon enough.”

“You had one of the spacecraft at Area 51 for nearly sixty years and didn’t get inside, Major, and you expect me to believe you’re going to get into one that’s not even on the same planet as you?” Kim sighed. “But no, anyway, I’m not here to gloat. I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“That’s right. The usual aliens, they call themselves hurgon, are in space above your position.” The usual aliens? Kim almost laughed. “There’s nineteen of them— but when we entered orbit there were fifty or sixty of them.”

“They’re leaving? I’d have thought that was a good thing.”

“They aren’t leaving. There’s another ship up here Major, and it’s killing the hurgon like it’s shooting fish in a barrel.”

“Again, Miss McLean, I’d have thought that was a good thing.”

“We talked with this newcomer, Major. He isn’t doing it to help us. He isn’t going to stop with the hurgon.”

“And while we hide down here you’ll be getting further away. How convenient.”

“Major, close that hangar door if you can and get back though the gate to Peru on the double. If you can’t close the door, then forget it and get back to Peru anyway.” Kim doubted anything she said would make a difference. “The new alien didn’t just drop subtle hints about what was going to happen.”

“Why should I believe you, Miss McLean?”

“Well, just step out the door and have a look, for God’s sake. The alien ship is huge— about ten kilometers long. You should be able to see it clearly enough.”

“Miss McLean—”

“That’s all the warning you get, Major. You need to get the hangar closed and hopefully save the ships. We have enough problems of our own.”

“Look, we—”

“We’re going to have to co-operate if we want to live through this Major. I hope you can work that out quicker than General Hilliard. Now, you do what you think’s best, I have to concentrate.”

“Miss McLean, we—”

“Turn it off, Mel.” But she did it herself, hitting several buttons until she found the right one. She returned to her seat.

All the movies made flying a ship and getting away from hordes of ravening aliens look relatively easy. The thing was, the pilots of those ships never faced that threat forty-five minutes after first getting into space in a ship they’d never before seen... A damaged ship they’d never before seen.

Elsewhere

Meledrin nodded. “So, how did hurgon meet with kil’ini? How did the relationship begin?”

“When hakans ships departed from Hulgorn, hurgon watched and waited, wondering when the hakans would return. With eyes turned to the sky, hurgon saw the kidol. Some wondered if it was possible to ride kidol, like the hakans rode their shining metal birds. It was possible.” Cuto’s hand signals had become slow and smooth, as if it was singing, almost, or reciting a poem. Meledrin guessed that the story held great importance for all hurgon. She studied the hand signals closely, trying to learn.

“From the backs of the kidol, hurgon could see further still— to kil’ini flying even higher above. Kidol were urged higher and higher, right to the upper edge of the sky. Hurgon and kidol could not fly all the way to kil’ini, but communication was possible with signals and gestures.

“Never could hurgon fly high enough, but one day a kidol, Lapenti— with Zorta riding— was injured in flight and in danger of falling to the ground. A kil’ini reached down to help.

“The kil’ini, Ila’nidri, sheltered Lapenti and Zorta until the injuries healed and a return to the world was possible. While waiting, Zorta and Ila’nidri spoke of many things. Ila’nidri offered to take hurgon between the stars if it was wanted. Soon other kil’ini were making the same offer.”

When Cuto had finished his tale, Meledrin began translating.

“Wait a second, we attacked them?” Kim interrupted when Meledrin reached that part of the story. She had barely begun at all. “They hadn’t yet gotten into space and humans were attacking them?”

“That is what Cuto says.”

“Ask again.”

1: A Damaged Ship

All Kim could see out the main viewport was a sky full of unknown stars and for a moment she forgot about the aliens who were trying to kill her. For a moment.

But Cuto was standing not far away, huge meaty hands locked around the back of a seat, watching as Meledrin translated all the conversations into the arm waving ‘ini rituals. The alien had the patience of a mountain— he would wait for as long as required. The rest of his people were apparently the same, planning their revenge over fifty thousand years.

But the hurgon didn’t scare her. They might kill her, given the chance, but they were still just people fighting a war. Short, ugly, leathery people with no genetic relationship to humans, but people all the same. The other alien was a different matter entirely. The multeese would swat them from existence and not even consider the fact that it should feel some sort of emotion during the process. The memory of the cold face on the monitors— humanoid but obviously not human— still made her shake.

Kim took a quick look at the rest of her companions. Keeble, Tuki and Meledrin were genetically human but vastly different, though each had traces of earth in their appearance. Kim took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. She needed to find a way to keep them all alive.

They’d been traveling at two kilometers per second when the thrust had cut out, leaving them coasting. She wanted more thrust, lots more thrust. The ship was a sphere and the controls allowed it to travel in every direction equally. “But there are antennas— or whatever the hell they are— to the north,” she said softly. She’d called it ‘north’ for ease of orientation— she could call it the bow, but seeing it might not always actually be the front... “The antennas prove that one direction isn’t the same as every other.” They meant she had to be able to turn the entire thing around to face somewhere else.

Back on Nexis— was it only half an hour ago?— Kim had decided the three main controls were the steering ball, the power lever and three pedals. The pedals were the only things she hadn’t been game to try. With a shrug, she pushed the left-hand pedal gently. It was a bit stiff, as was to be expected after 50,000 years, and didn’t seem to do anything at all.

“Keeble, what happened?”

Down on the left hand side of the bridge, the dwarf hit some buttons on his console. He didn’t come from earth but probably wouldn’t have looked out of place in South America. He had dark skin, a broad nose and full mouth. “Do it again,” Keeble said, scratching at his short, beard with the mechanical hand strapped to his left arm.

The pedal had pivoted in the middle so Kim pressed the opposite side.

Keeble hit some more buttons. “Huh. The ship turned and the bridge stayed still this time.”

There was a dial that worked the other way, spinning the bridge atop the ship.

“Are you sure?”

Keeble looked up over his console, eyes narrowing as if he was being accused of murder. He was sure.

To change the subject, Kim indicated the steering ball— it didn’t change the direction the Hakahei faced, but controlled the direction of the thrust. “But that thing didn’t move again.”

Kim tried the other two pedals, rotating the ship every which way possible. She gripped the edge of her seat, expecting to fall on her head at any moment. And the ball stayed still in relation to the universe outside— as if that was the point around which the entire ship spun.

“No matter where we spin,” Keeble said, as if reading her mind, “we keep traveling in the same direction. We aren’t under thrust now, but if we were, the ship would automatically transfer the thrust to different funnels to keep us moving in a constant direction. There’s a button near the bridge-spinning dial?”

There was. A large button decorated with a strange symbol. Everything was decorated with strange symbols. “Yep.”

“That button locks the bridge in place on the top of the ship, so when the ship spins on the top-bottom axis, so does the bridge. It won’t affect the ball either.”

“Right.” They made things too complicated. What was wrong with a plane that flew in space? Kim could fly a plane.

Kim fiddled until they were looking at the planet they’d recently vacated. It was an amazing sight, one half basking in the light of the star, the other half in shadow. It took up most of the view-port— clean and pure and colorful.

“Is anyone following us, Tuki?” It was a sensible question— one that should have been asked earlier. After examining the space around the planet for a moment, Kim looked across at the young man seated behind a console on the right-hand side of the room. “Can you show us the aliens? The new ones in the big ship...”

“Perhaps, mo’min.” If Keeble was from South America, then Tuki was from somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He too had dark skin but was about two meters tall and had tattoos all down one arm.

Kim turned to look as an image appeared in the depression in the middle of the room. It showed the planet, it’s moon and a whole heap of aliens. The living ships of the hurgon were like flies buzzing around the huge multeese ship.

“Nobody seems to be following us,” Meledrin said from her seat just below Kim’s, still waving her arms so Cuto could understand. Tall, slim and pale, like some red headed Nordic ice-queen, the elf sat with calm dignity, as if she’d been sailing between the stars all her life and not just for the last half an hour.

Kim considered the fact that she may appear calm and rational as well, but at least she hadn’t been living in a ‘timber-age’ society a week earlier. Still, she was finding it hard to ignore the immensity of what was happening and concentrate on the moment-to-moment details. “Do you have the Americans on the radio yet?”

“In a manner of speaking. They are able to hear me— and I am able hear them— but they are not responding.”

“Well, switch them over to my console. I’ll get them to respond.”

Meledrin just looked at her.

“You don’t know how?”

“Not at this point in time.” Apparently that didn’t need translating for Cuto.

Kim sighed again. Things weren’t looking promising. She went down to where the elf sat.

They had escaped from military custody and sprung Cuto from prison as well. Then they’d led the American Air force on a merry chase across two planets. And now they didn’t even want to talk?

“Hey there,” she said into the microphone, before remembering to speak English. Like everyone else, she’d learned Tuki’s language of Rongo in just a few hours, and now English felt unwieldy.

She tried again. “I need to speak to General Hilliard, right now.”

“Kim, do you not think that a modicum of manners would be—” Meledrin stopped mid-sentence as an American accented voice erupted from the speaker. Kim smiled.

“General Hilliard is not in control on the ground here.”

“Then who the hell is?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Kim McLean— one of the people you’re trying to catch.”

“Oh. Major Williams is in charge.”

“Well, in about five minutes he won’t be, so go get him right now.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Just get him. Are you saying he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“I’ll see what I can do. He busy at—”

“Bullshit. I was in the army, I know what being in charge means.”

The American didn’t reply.

Kim stared out at the stars while she waited.

Eventually, a new voice erupted from the speakers.

“This is Major Harrison Williams. Have you called us to gloat, Miss McLean? I wouldn’t bother. We’ll catch you soon enough.”

“You had one of the spacecraft at Area 51 for fifty years and didn’t get inside, Major, and you expect me to believe you’re going to get into one that’s not even on the same planet as you?” Kim sighed. “But no, anyway, I’m not here to gloat. I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“That’s right. The usual aliens, they call themselves hurgon, are in space above your position.” The usual aliens? Kim almost laughed. “There’s nineteen of them— but when we entered orbit there were fifty or sixty of them.”

“They’re leaving? I’d have thought that was a good thing.”

“They aren’t leaving. There’s another ship up here Major, and it’s killing the hurgon like it’s shooting fish in a barrel.”

“Again, Miss McLean, I’d have thought that was a good thing.”

“We talked with this newcomer, Major. He isn’t doing it to help us. He isn’t going to stop with the hurgon.”

“And while we hide down here you’ll be getting further away. How convenient.”

“Major, close that hangar door if you can and get back though the gate to Peru on the double. If you can’t close the door, then forget it and get back to Peru anyway.” Kim doubted anything she said would make a difference. “The new alien didn’t just drop subtle hints about what was going to happen.”

“Why should I believe you, Miss McLean?”

“Well, just step out the door and have a look, for God’s sake. The alien ship is huge— about ten kilometers long. You should be able to see it clearly enough.”

“Miss McLean—”

“That’s all the warning you get, Major. You need to get the hangar closed and hopefully save the ships. We have enough problems of our own.”

“Look, we—”

“We’re going to have to co-operate if we want to live through this Major. I hope you can work that out quicker than General Hilliard. Now, you do what you think’s best, I have to concentrate.”

“Miss McLean, we—”

“Turn it off, Mel.” But she did it herself, hitting a few buttons until she found the right one. She returned to her seat.

All the movies made flying a ship and getting away from hordes of ravening aliens look relatively easy. The thing was, the pilots of those ships never faced that threat forty-five minutes after first getting into space in a ship they’d never before seen... A damaged ship they’d never before seen.

She breathed deeply and tried to think. She couldn’t remember a calm moment since watching Keeble and Meledrin step out of the Major Oak in Sherwood Forest a few days earlier. It wasn’t even calm she wanted. Just a few minutes where she wasn’t thinking she was about to die. Just a moment for her heart to stop racing.

But if she wanted any calm or peaceful moments in the future, she’d have to work for them.

“Keeble.” Kim sat up and turned to look at the dwarf. He’d been quiet for a while but Kim doubted he’d been idle.

“What?”

“We need to get out of here.”

“You don’t say.”

Kim ignored his tone. He didn’t like women all that much, but at least he was trying to be civil. “There must be a hyperspace drive or something.”

“A what?”

“Something that allows us to travel faster than the speed of light.”

“Why must there?”

“Because I don’t intend to spend five years traveling to the nearest star.”

Tuki cleared his throat. “The nearest star is over six light-years away.”

“Thank you, Tuki.”

“According to the charts there are no planets there.”

“So, what does this thing look like?” Keeble asked. “What will it do?”

“How should I know?”

Keeble grunted in disgust but apparently gave the matter some thought. “We know what the batteries, Gravitic Field Generators and clocks do... basically...”

Kim nodded and smiled. “Yes, we do.” The Gravitic thingies made something like gravity and threw it around in space to move the ship. The two clocks... well, they kept time, but why there were two mechanical clocks— with geared wheels and pistons and springs— was anyone’s guess. “That only leaves one thing. Or two things. Those bits at the front, connected to the aerials.”

“The Ohoga Drive.”

“Yes.” Kim drummed her index finger on the edge of the consol. “What if they open a Ohoga Gate?”

Keeble shook his head, paused, nodded. “Could be... But the power involved in those gates is amazing. I doubt we have enough power on this ship to make one.”

“Well, maybe we don’t make one as powerful as the gates. Maybe they don’t let us travel that far. Tuki, how far between the gates?”

The lad ducked his head again, hiding from the unwanted attention, even as he gently worked at the buttons on his navigation consol. “Nexis to Earth is... 53.74 light years, Earth to Kiva 70.09, Nexis to Tiandi 59.22. I can tell you the others...”

“No, that’s fine. So, maybe we only go ten light years at a time.” Kim was glad she couldn’t grasp just how far a light-year really was, though she knew intellectually. Just saying the words, she could ignore the ramifications of the single step that had taken her from Earth to Nexis through the ‘magical’ gate. “Let’s just assume for now and see where that line of reasoning takes us.”

Keeble nodded slowly. “But we have no idea about... anything.”

“That isn’t what I want to hear.”

“It isn’t what I want to say.”

Kim knew how Keeble liked everything to be sure and perfect. Everything had an ideal state and it was Keeble’s mission in life to make sure everything was in that state. It made him ideal for the role of ship’s engineer. But of course he was— tens of thousands of years ago his ancestors had been engineered for the role. All the races had been shaped in some way to better be able to live and work in space. And it was Kim’s job to lead, to find solutions to problems and keep everyone alive and well. I’m not off to a good start. Though they weren’t dead yet.

They continued to race away from the planet and the aliens while Kim tried to think.

Tuki shifted in his seat.

“Yes, Tuki?”

“Eight hurgon ships remaining, mo’min.”

“Thank you. Tell us again at five.”

“Yes.”

Kim drummed her fingers on the side of her seat. “All right, Keeble, how do I turn on the Ohoga engines?”

“We don’t know—”

“I know we don’t know. Christ.” Kim closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Did humans get headaches 50 thousand years ago? And if so, did they have any painkillers on the ship? “We have to do something or we’ll be dead in about five minutes.” Five minutes? That was probably a bit generous. She avoided looking at the image below her so she wouldn’t have to witness the fates of the hurgon ships.

“All right then.”

A couple of hours earlier, Keeble hadn’t been able to read at all but he seemed to find his way among the touch screen menus easy enough. He was probably following a trail of pictures, tracing schematics as much as anything, but Kim didn’t think it would be long before he was reading. She suspected the language had been hard-wired into their brains— it seemed the writing had as well.

Keeble grunted. “You were right, I think. We make a gate and go through it...”

Kim needed to get up and walk around. She thought better on her feet, on solid ground, and with a ceiling of sky above her. How could she think when there were no limits to the universe? She gripped the edge of her console and stayed where she was.

“Four buttons to your right,” Keeble said eventually, just when Kim thought she could no longer stand the waiting.

“Yes. A group of three, then one below them. There’s a little readout beside the top ones.”

“Press the first of the three.”

Kim did as suggested. She was rewarded with a chiming noise and a series of symbols appeared on the display. “It looks like...” What it looked like was a series of symbols.

“They’re numbers. Are they flashing?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that means it won’t work. It’s connected to the clocks and they aren’t turned on.”

“Five life forms left, mo’min,” Tuki said softly, scratching nervously at the meteor tattooed on the back of his left hand.

Kim hardly took any notice. “Thanks, Tuki. So, the flashing lights are a clock?”

“No, they’re connected to the mechanical clocks.” The dwarf examined his screen some more. “The first three buttons turn the time on and adjust it up and down. When you press the last button, the clocks start to count down from the set time. And when the countdown reaches zero... the Ohoga engines work.”

“The gateway will open after whatever amount of time is shown on this display?”

“Yes.”

“But what about now? Surely we don’t have to plan to use the gate an hour in the future or something.”

“The time is adjustable,” Keeble said. “From one hour all the way up to... 140,000 seconds.”

Kim looked at Tuki and the lad answered almost immediately. He hardly looked up and spoke softly. “Approximately 40 hours.”

But that didn’t really answer the question. “But what about now?”

Keeble’s brow wrinkled as he tried to read. “The Ohoga Gate opens when the time reaches zero, but pressing the button also opens a gate immediately.”

“Two gates?”

“Yes, though...”

“Though what?”

He worked furiously at his console, cursing whenever he tried to use his mechanical arm in his haste. “The Ohoga Gates make a noise like a symphony or, more accurately, they are created by the symphony, or they... Anyway, the symphony of the timed gate is different to the one that opens immediately.”

“How do you know?”

He poked a metal prong at his monitor. “It says here, once you know what you’re looking at.”

“Okay. So... Does that help?”

“Well, obviously the first gate takes us somewhere, and the second one brings us back.”

Tuki broke the ensuing silence on the bridge. “Two life forms remaining, mo’min.”

Kim examined the controls in front of her as if a new one, with a big helpful label, might have appeared while she wasn’t looking. “Shit. We have to open a gate and go through. How do we turn on the clocks?”

Cuto said something in his harsh, rasping language and Kim turned to Meledrin. She tried to decipher the ‘ini rituals but knew it would be a while before she understood much at all. She waited for a translation.

The elf paused for a moment, obviously sorting the words in her head. “Cuto says it madness to use a gate in these circumstances.”

“These circumstances? We’re about to die.”

Meledrin spoke with the alien and eventually translated. “Cuto say that to go blindly into such a dangerous situation is bad enough. To rush the process is even worse.”

“What does he suggest then?”

“Cuto is not a he— the hurgon have no gender specific pronouns.”

“I know,” Kim said. “Whatever.”

Kim stared at Meledrin until the elf sniffed and spoke to Cuto for a moment.

“Cuto suggests that we cut all power and hope the alien can not detect our whereabouts.”

2: The Time Comes

“So we literally do nothing?” Kim said. “That may well be the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.” She shook her head. If not the stupidest it was certainly tied for the honor— with her own plan.

Keeble grunted in agreement. “The level of technology the alien’s shown so far suggests it’s unlikely it won’t see us.”

“I am merely translating what Cuto has said.”

Kim sighed and sat back in her seat.

“One life form remaining,” Tuki said softly.

Kim turned to look at the lad. “What do you think, Tuki?”

Tuki still looked startled every time someone asked for his opinion. “You know more about this than me, mo’min. I will do whatever you think is best.”

“Right. Great. Thanks for your help.” But after a moment, Kim realized it did help. She knew more about the situation than Tuki, but Cuto knew more than anyone on the ship. “Cut the power, Keeble,” she said.

“It won’t work.”

“How do you feel about using a machine that you don’t understand?”

“It’s never a good idea.”

“Right. We don’t even know if it still works. Cut the power.”

“What about life support?”

“There’s enough air in here to last us a while. That won’t be what kills us.”

Keeble obviously wasn’t sure he liked the way that was worded, but he nodded, checked his screens one last time, and cut the power.

Throughout the ship various things were making noises— fans slowing inexorably, motors approaching stillness. And then...

Silence.

Not a sound.

Kim took a breath.

The silence stretched on.

“How long do we wait?” Meledrin asked eventually, hardly louder than a whisper.

Kim didn’t know. And she found the passing of time impossible to measure anyway. Had they been sitting in the dark for five minutes or twenty? “We wait a while yet.”

They drifted onwards.

Kim thought she was getting cold, but then thought it was her imagination. A noise, but if she could hear something it was coming from inside the ship, not out. She waited for the missiles to hit. She waited for the explosion that would end everything. With the ship’s power turned off they couldn’t even know what was happening. It would be over before they found out.

Perhaps they were about to die and didn’t even know.

All they could do was wait.

Kim drifted off to sleep. She woke with an aching back and cramp in her arm. Five minutes or an hour? Silence hung heavy on the bridge like it had been there for eons, gathering dust and mass as it waited.

“How long?” Kim asked. She sat up, loosening her grip on the arms of her chair and scrubbing at her face.

Keeble shifted in his seat, a glacier of thought propelling him along. He shrugged. “An hour, maybe. If you hadn’t fallen asleep you’d know.

“Bite me.”

The dwarf narrowed his eyes as if giving the idea some thought. He was probably just trying to work out what she meant.

Kim sighed and wiped her face again. “All right. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

The dwarf looked at her some more but pushed the relevant button. Systems started coming back online one by one. Machines beeped. Light flooded the bridge. Kim was holding her breath.

Tuki sat perfectly still.

“Can you see anything, Tuki?” Kim asked.

Kim watched as the moai looked out the window before realizing he had to use the skyglass. He worked silently for a minute. “The alien is not here, mo’min. It has gone.”

“Are you sure?”

He pressed some more buttons. “Yes, mo’min.” He didn’t sound sure.

Across the other side of the bridge Keeble, brow furrowed, was talking to himself as he worked at his console.

“What’s going on, Keeble?”

The dwarf continued to mutter. Eventually he spoke out loud, eyes still on his read-outs. “I was checking on damage. It doesn’t look like we’ve sustained any serious damage,” he said eventually. “There’s a crack in the hull. Plus lots of little things. Possibly it was there before the hurgon started shooting at us. I didn’t really know how to look before. One of the fuel tanks is empty though.”

Kim cleared her throat. “What fuel tanks? I thought we had the batteries and they were recharged when we flew? You never said anything about fuel tanks.”

Keeble grunted in disgust. “Of course there has to be fuel, otherwise we’d have a perpetual motion machine, which all dwarves know is impossible.”

“So, how much fuel do we have?” Kim asked. The need for fuel was obvious, really, but she hadn’t thought. Shit. Concentrate, woman. The rush to leave the surface of the planet and then the rush to escape the aliens had short-circuited everyone’s common sense. Little things like that could kill them as quickly as the multeese.

Keeble grunted again. “We have a total of eight tanks totaling 1164 cubic meters and overall they are 86 percent full, but what does that tell you unless you know how much fuel we use? And who says the readings are correct anyway, after all this time.”

“Well...”

“Well, indeed. So, what do we do now, Captain?” he said it with a sneer that Kim ignored.

She sat back in her chair and tried to sort through the options. There weren’t all that many of them. Except for the hundreds that she and her earth-bound mind couldn’t think of. “Right... How much of a problem is this minor damage that we’ve sustained?”

Keeble shrugged. “No really sure. The trouble is there are a hundred little things and it would take me a week to find anything out on my own. I’m not totally sure what half the stuff mentioned actually does so I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, start with the clocks and we’ll see after that.”

“Clocks are very specialized— I don’t have any training.”

“You’ll figure out more than the rest of us.” Next. What next? “Meledrin is going to see if she can get a hold of the Americans on the radio. And other than that... We’ll worry about that when the time comes.” Great plan. Sit around and do not much until the time comes, then think of something.

But Keeble didn’t seem to mind, for once— he was already working, tapping his metal hand against the console while he hit buttons with the other.

“Kim, Major Williams is waiting to speak with you.”

“Thanks, Mel. I’ll...”

“I believe I have the ability to transfer it through to your seat.”

“Cool.” Kim took a moment to get herself thinking in English before she spoke. “Major Williams, how are you?”

The delay was noticeable.

“Annoyed.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because nothing happened. We evacuated almost everyone, like you said— just a couple of people here to man the radio— and nothing happened.”

“For now, Major. The aliens seem to have gone but I’m sure they’ll be back.”

“Do you ever have any doubts, Miss McLean?”

Kim rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t have time for doubts. If she slowed down for a moment to think of all the wrong decisions she might be making she curl up and cry. “Look, right now we need to get another skyglass. A dozen of them would be even better.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mainly, it’s a navigation computer, Major. We also used it to start the ship. Like a key.”

“And to fly it?”

“At this stage we haven’t used it for anything specific, though it still may be needed. If we want to go interstellar, we’ll need it for sure.”

“Maybe there are ships in the hangar that already have a skyglass. Did you think of that?”

Damn. That was the type of comment Kim normally came up with; it was really annoying. “Well... No, I didn’t think of that, actually.” But she could call his imaginary bluff. “If you can get inside a ship and get it started then good for you. Let us know if you need our help with something else.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end— longer than the usual delay— before Williams decided to ignore the digression. “I don’t imagine you’ll give up your skyglass, so how do we get one?”

“Just a second.” Kim released the microphone button and sat back to the creak of ancient something-like-leather. How to get another skyglass? It was a few seconds before she thought to ask Tuki.

The lad shrugged. “I only know of one other, mo’min. It is in Danyon Ford, but I doubt the mo’min there would give it up.”

“There are only two of them?”

“There used to be hundreds, but they have been lost for centuries. There may be some on other worlds as well, but I do not know.”

“Would you be able to see them in our skyglass?”

“I doubt it. The mo’min would have collected the others already, if they could be seen.”

Keeble grunted. “Maybe she didn’t know what she was looking at.”

Tuki shrugged again.

That didn’t leave a lot of options. Which was good in a way— it made Kim’s decision easy. “Then I guess we just have to go and get the one we know about.”

“I do not think the mo’min will give it to you, mo’min.”

“It’s a religious thing, right?” Kim gave a small smile. “I’m pretty sure she’d give it up if your goddess turned up.”

Meledrin cleared her throat. “It may be a religious artifact, Kim but my understanding is that it is also used for studying the weather and seasons, so they can work out the best times for planting crops and similar actions important to the life in the village.”

Kim laughed and shook her head. “I’m not much of a gardener, but I think after a couple of years I could work most of the stuff out. The skyglass might have been more at one stage, but now it’s just a symbol that gives the women power.”

“Perhaps...”

“Think of it this way, Mel— the multeese will kill everyone if they aren’t stopped. Are we going to stop them on our own?”

A voice crackled from the radio. “Are you there, Miss McLean?”

Kim stabbed at the button... “One minute...” And turned to Keeble. “Keeble, what sort of fuel does this thing use?”

“You told me to look at the clocks.”

Prioritize, she thought. But the damage should have been the first priority. “Yes, I’m sorry, but things change.”

“Right, but only around women.” Keeble worked for a minute. “The ingredients seem to be kept separately. The main thing is a gas called... well that won’t help much, really. I don’t know your word for it, or Tuki’s, and you don’t know mine. On the scale of elements it is number one.”

“Atomic number one? That’s... hydrogen. Huh, there’s heaps of that everywhere. We can pull up near just about any star and get hydrogen.”

“There’s whole tanks for it but there’s other stuff in there as well.”

“Like what?”

“Number 12. It’s a type of metal.”

“Right.” She didn’t know that much about the periodic table, though apparently Keeble did.

“And number 11. That’s the main ingredient in salt.”

“Sodium.”

“And... 8— a liquid metal...”

“Mercury?” Was there more than one liquid metal?

Keeble shrugged. “They are all mixed in a special way to get it all to work.”

“Well...”

“Miss McLean—”

She hit the button so hard her finger hurt. She just needed half an hour on her own to get her head straight. Or maybe just half a carton of beer on her own... “You think this is easy up here, Major? Shut up and let me think.”

Meledrin had been translating for Cuto and the alien offered. “Very little fuel will be used in traveling between stars. Starting and stopping and entering or leaving gravity wells is all fuel will really be needed for.”

“Right.” Kim nodded. “And we have 86 percent, right?”

Keeble nodded.

“So, at most, we used fourteen percent to leave the planet. That’s not much. Keeble, if we had the ingredients, could you make the fuel here on the ship?”

“If we have the ingredients then the ship should do it itself. A hundred liters, or whatever, of each should last a long time. Hydrogen is the main thing.”

“Right.” Kim took a deep breath and returned her attention to the microphone. “Here’s the deal, Major. We’ll get you a skyglass, and in return, you get us three elements. Numbers 11, 12 and 8. 100 liters of each will do us.”

“And coffee,” Keeble said. “We need coffee.”

Kim sighed. “And some coffee, Major. And food. Lots of food. Pallets of food.”

“You’re selling us the skyglass? I thought you were helping.”

“Just get us the stuff. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“How long?”

Kim shrugged, though it wouldn’t help. “No idea. Have to work out how to drive this thing. And have to travel...”

“Just over sixty light years each way,” Tuki offered.

Kim relayed the information. “We’re going to Tuki’s world.”

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to go through the gates, Miss McLean?”

“Maybe, but we still need to work out how to drive, so this’ll be good practice. And besides, I think it’s a long way from the gate on earth to where we’re going.”

“Very well, Miss McLean—”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Major. Now, I suggest you keep that door closed and keep everyone under cover.” Kim sat back and looked around, annoying people in authority made her feel better. It made her calmer. Or... well, it made her calmer about the things she really needed to be calm about.

She thought of something else. “Major, we’d also like Palsamon to be brought to us...”

“I don’t know that he’s fit enough to travel, Miss McLean.”

“Major...”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do about the skyglass, but we can’t promise anything.”

“Right.”

“We’ll be in touch.” Kim sat back again. “Keeble, we need the clocks up and running.”

“Right. I’m going to the Engineering Bay.” He got out of his seat and headed for the lift.

But how did Kim find out about the Ohoga engines? She turned to Cuto. The alien was the only real source of information they had, though it wasn’t likely to know much at all. Kim asked and watched the hand signals while Meledrin and the alien spoke. She was starting to get some of the signals, but was a long way from understanding an entire sentence.

“As far as the hurgon have been able to ascertain, from talking with hakans at the time when the war began, the gates lead to a parallel universe,” Meledrin translated. “This other universe is linked closely with our own, but is quite a bit smaller. So, for every kilometer we travel over there, we will have traveled quite a few more here when we return.”

“That’s it? What’s the catch?”

“The difficulty lies in the fact that no complicated machinery will work in this other universe for more than a moment. We are unable to undertake powered flight. We are unable to steer. We are unable to stop.”

“So, how do we get back?” But she already knew— the timer. So, you set the huge mechanical clocks to open a gate for you at a certain time, then sailed through and back into the real world at the end. What worried her more than anything else was the fact that none of this information surprised her. Another universe? Was she going insane? But she’d stepped between worlds. She was in space. Perhaps nothing was ever going to surprise her again. “So is there atmosphere in the other universe or something? What slows us down?”

Meledrin asked Cuto then explained. “Cuto says it is unsure though something exists to slow our progress.”

“How much will it slow us?”

“Cuto is unsure. The hurgon use a similar method of travel but go to a different universe entirely.”

Kim nodded vaguely, trying to sort through the facts. “Are there any planets or anything that we might run into after we go through a gate?”

“Cuto does not believe so, though the hurgon have not explored it in full.”

“Is there anything else Cuto thinks we should know?”

“Cuto believes it has given us all known information that may be of assistance in this matter.”

“‘No’ would’ve done, Mel.”

Meledrin straightened her skirt and didn’t reply.

#

“How did we go?” Kim asked when Keeble returned to the bridge an hour later. She was bored and also petrified that the multeese would return at any moment.

“One of the clocks is completely buggered. I’ve disconnected it. The other one works but it’s losing time in relation to the electronic clocks. I had a look around but...” He shrugged. “Like I said, clocks are very specialized.”

“How much time is it losing?”

“About a minute since we turned it on.”

One minute over an hour was a lot but as long as they didn’t try to cut anything too close... “Well, it will have to do because Cuto has explained how the gates work.”

Keeble was suddenly interested. “How?”

He’d obviously gotten the wrong impression. “Well, not how they work, but what they allow us to do.”

“Oh... And what’s that?”

Kim explained while she went through a checklist of her controls, preparing to get the ship moving.

“That’s it?” Keeble asked when she’d finished speaking.

“Well, there is a catch. Nothing really works in this other universe. That’s why there are the stairs between levels.” And it also explained the couple of hundred gas lanterns scattered around the ship.

“So, after we pass through, the ship starts slowing immediately and all we can do is sit and watch?” Keeble asked. “Then the timer uses the stored power in the batteries to open another gate so we can pass back to our universe?”

“That sounds about right.”

“And if we aren’t moving?”

He wasn’t supposed to pick up on that so quickly. “Then we sit in the dark until we die, basically.” Kim cleared her throat. “So, are we ready then? How much power do we have in the batteries?”

“One is nowhere near full.”

“Then we need to get moving.” Kim hesitantly nudged the ship into motion then, once she was sure they were heading in the direction she intended, she pushed the thrust lever to it’s limit. Like last time, they reached 2 kilometers a second before the thrust cut out and they were coasting. She looked out the view-port, and at the controls, and back out at the stars again.

“It will be about an hour and a half at this speed.”

“An hour and a half? Jeeze.”

“At this speed. We can go faster, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. How would I know?”

Keeble explained which switch was needed and when Kim flicked it over she immediately felt the power kick in. She had a small smile for her companions. Eighteen minutes later, their speed had increased to 20 kilometers a second.

“Batteries are charging quicker. Another forty minutes until full.”

“Right-i-o then, forget that and concentrate on matters at hand. Tuki, which direction do we want to go.”

The young moai looked nervous again, suddenly called upon to make a decision for everyone. “Ummm...”

“You know this stuff, Tuki. Just tell us.”

“We want to turn fifty degrees to the east, mo’min.” He checked the map, which he had displayed in the dome overhead. “And half a degree up.”

“Right. Tell me when to stop.” Kim spun the body of the ship around without changing the direction of the thrust. When Tuki told her to stop, she did, but it took several fine adjustments before he was completely happy that the aerials were pointing in the right direction. Then she had to get the ship moving in that direction as well.

“This is bloody impossible.” She set the thrust from the side and turned their line of travel too far. Then she over corrected.

“Next time I’ll get us pointing in the right direction before we start to move,” Kim muttered.

“I’m sure the aliens will wait for you to get everything just right.”

“Shut up, Keeble,” Kim snapped. “Have you fixed the clocks yet?”

The dwarf glowered but fell silent and Kim tried to concentrate.

“How’s that?” she asked eventually. It had taken more than thirty-five minutes and a great deal of frustration. Keeble took the opportunity to once more let her know what he thought of the exercise.

“It is not exact,” Tuki replied, “but exact will not help.”

That didn’t sound good. “Why not?”

“Because we do not know if we will be effected by gravity in the other universe the same way as we are effected in this one.”

“Huh?”

“You explained to me that in a journey from Nexis to Kiva we would be effected by the gravity of many stars and planets even if they are a long way away...” He made it sound as if it was his fault... “Does that happen in the other universe?”

“Ummm... I don’t know.” Kim tapped on the edge of her consol. “Well, how about we just go for an hour first and then maybe you can do some calculations and work out how quickly we slow down and how far our aim is out.”

“Yes, mo’min.”

“Tuki.”

“Yes.”

“Call me Kim, remember?”

“Yes, mo—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was no reason they couldn’t go. The batteries were charged, they were pointing in the right direction, or near enough, and... Kim still didn’t press the button.

“We’re going top speed,” Kim said eventually. “The timer goes up to about forty hours, so we should be able to easily travel in the other universe for an hour, right? We aren’t going to stop in an hour.” Kim looked to Keeble.

The dwarf shrugged. “Sounds logical.”

“Right.” She held her breath as she turned the Ohoga engines on, then took a moment to think some more.

Is there anything I’ve overlooked? I wonder what my mother would think if she could see me now. Shit, focus.

She held her breath while she adjusted the electronic readout to one hour, the smallest time possible. When she was ready, she looked around the bridge. “Are we ready?”

Nobody said anything.

“Tuki, you know our exact position so you can work out exactly how far we go?”

“Yes, mo’min.”

“Right. Anybody want to say anything?” Apparently they didn’t. “Well, what are we waiting for then?”

Kim’s finger hovered over the button that would open the gate and start the timer all in one. Her heart was racing. She’d stepped between worlds— this was going to be a piece of cake.

“Mo’min?”

“Yes.” Any excuse to delay.

“Something on the scanners.”

“The alien returning, do you think?”

“Perhaps.”

“Can you tell which direction it’s coming from? Can you tell anything?”

“Maybe, mo’min, but without something to compare it to...”

“Yes, without a context—”

Meledrin cleared her throat. “If it is the alien then do we really wish to remain here?”

“Right. Let’s do it.” Her hands were sweating. She closed her eyes and hit the button. She opened one eye in time to see a shifting silvery sheen materialize in the crisp darkness in front of the ship. She opened the other eye just as they went through.

There was no flash and no bang. There was no indication at all that something momentous had just happened except every system on the ship suddenly shut down and the stars disappeared— that was no small thing.

They were in another universe.

And again, all throughout the ship machines hummed and whirred towards stillness. It was much scarier than last time because there was no switch to turn everything back on.

And then...

Silence.

“Is this what’s supposed to happen, do you think?” Tuki asked, barely above a whisper.

Meledrin was finally overawed by something. She whispered a reply. “Cuto did inform us that nothing would operate.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Keeble asked. “Sit here for an hour and do nothing?”

Kim shifted in her seat wondering how her voice would sound. She cleared her throat. “Ummm... I guess so.”

The strange universe outside offered a small amount of light, though not really enough to actually see. They were racing though a colored, softly glowing mist. There were streams of lavender and puce and other sickly colors she couldn’t name, all swirling wildly. The ship’s speed was much more obvious with something to compare it to. With a context... Kim laughed softly and shook her head.

“I fail to see what is so amusing.”

3: Books

The night and storm retreated, slinking away like a pair of half-drowned cats to leave the morning fresh and cool. Two of Kiva’s three brother moons rode the cloudbank westwards.

Scree sat on a rock, looking out across the valley and scratching a three-day-old cut on his bare chest. The hills on the far side, a couple of kilometers distant, were rugged thrusts of landscape, higher and steeper than anything near where he sat. But most of the slopes over there were covered with trees and were less stark. There could’ve been some magical line running along the valley floor, following the curves of a road. Life and greenery on the far side, mud and stone on this. The village that sat in the centre was neither here nor there. The people lived on the divide between life and death and didn’t even realize.

Scree smiled and licked his teeth.

The previous night, when the storm had been at its fiercest, he’d known there were people about but he’d been too tired to know where, and too tired to find out. Now he knew and intended to take advantage. He flexed the muscles in his shoulders and back. He wiped a slick of dew from his bald scalp.

“Yo, Scree,” Gravel called.

Scree turned to look at the other troll who was poking through a pack as if he might find some long-lost morsel of food hidden in a seam.

“What we gunna do today?”

Scree sneered. “What do you think?” he replied. “We’s going to run.” They’d been running non-stop for more than a month. It wasn’t likely to change any time soon.

Most of the Redworm pack was stirring. Grumbling and scratching, they put hands to weapons before they’d even risen to their feet.

“We gunna mangle that village first?”

“Course.”

“Yeah, but...”

Scree didn’t hear what the other troll had to say. His attention was fixed on the dozen, pointy roofed buildings half a kilometer to the east, clustered like flies around the muddy scar of the road. There was a small stone chapel to the south with a stable beside it. And a tavern hunched like a beggar beside the road leading north. Between those two outposts rough timber houses huddled together, butting shoulders despite all the vacant space.

Scree made his way back to the camp. Everyone was awake, sitting in silence mostly. Flint and Shale had just finished rutting. They ignored the clinging mud as they quickly pulled on their clothes. Lichen was neatly repacking her pack after changing out of her running boots.

“You lots ready?” Scree asked, rubbing himself. He grabbed his backpack from the ground and slung it over his shoulder.

With business at hand the trolls started placing bets and boasting before the deeds of the day were done. Some scrambled to their feet to demolish the rain soaked scenery with maces, flails and clubs. They scattered the brittle white bones of the bushes and cracked stone skulls.

“Come ons.”

Flint was still donning her shirt, tying leather laces over her big tits, but Scree led the way down the hill. He followed a well-worn trail that wound a random course through the waist high trees and small stone cairns.

The village was stirring when he strode between the first of the houses. A man, hair like a sun-browned tussock of grass, stepped out onto a gap-toothed porch and stretched, arms above his head, mouth gaping in a yawn. Gravel sent the human’s brains in a glistening arc across the wall of his home. The body collapsed almost gently as a scream erupted from inside. The sound stopped a moment after Gravel went through the door.

Scree stopped in front of a ramshackle blacksmith’s workshop. Smoke poured from the chimney and a horseshoe glowed on a much-battered anvil, but there was nobody in sight. All was quiet. The other trolls had already disappeared and the village’s residents were either cowering behind barred doors or running across the fields towards the hills.

Scree smiled and strode up onto a lopsided porch to attack the door. The first blow of his club split the warped timber. Two more and he stepped through. An old woman sat in the corner, shocked and silent, holding a broom as if for protection. But she didn’t even scream when he left a muddy footprint on her face.

It was hardly worth the effort. The only food she had was a couple of leathery strips of bacon and brown onions. Scree grunted in disgust as he ate. He gave the old woman another kick. “Bitch.”

Outside, Scree wondered where to go next. Just as he was about to find another house to search, he saw movement. A pale, human face peered from a narrow slot between two buildings. A moment later, the woman broke from cover. She ran, wild and screaming, along the street. Her night-robe flapped about her legs. Waist-length hair flew out behind her. Scree licked onion juice from his fingers and set off in pursuit.

The woman, barely more than a girl really, turned down beside a building. She was quick, fear lending her speed, but Scree was enjoying the hunt.

A fence beside the house slowed the human for a moment. She struggled between two loose palings, kicking desperately like a grounded fish, gasping for air and groaning with fear before making it through. Scree barely broke stride as he vaulted into the yard. He caught his prey as she tried to go over the fence at the rear.

“You not going nowheres,” Scree said as he grabbed her around the waist. The woman screamed some more, whipping her head back and forth, kicking and swinging her arms. She barely came to his chest. All her struggles did nothing and it wasn’t long before her screaming and fighting slowed.

“No,” she said, barely raising her voice above a whisper.

Scree laughed and licked her ear.

“Let me go. Help.”

No help would’ve come even if she’d been shouting. The other villagers had problems of their own. But someone had come.

“Yo, Scree. What’s you got there?”

Scree was furious at being interrupted. Furious he’d let someone surprised him. He looked up, but the curse died on his lips. Mica was there, leaning on her club and smiling.

The trollop wore a pair of soft linen breeches that didn’t even cover her thighs and a shirt that barely contained her tits.

“What you gots there?” Mica repeated.

Scree shrugged. “Nothin’ much.”

“Looks alright to me. If you don’t want her...”

Suddenly, Scree didn’t want her. He wanted Mica. The trollop had resisted his advances since joining the pack— he had a lump on the back of his head and the wound on his chest as proof of that.

Scree looked back at the human he held then threw her to the ground. Before Mica could react, he crossed the small space to the trollop and pushed her back against the wall of the house.

He tore at her clothing, throwing away her shirt like he’d thrown away the unwanted human. When he started to push at her breeches, he felt a line of pain across his throat.

Mica smiled at him as she ran the blade of her knife along his skin. “Are ya feeling lucky?”

Scree kissed her and she bit his lip. He kept her pressed against the wall with the weight of his body, working at her breeches with one hand and his own with the other.

She could have killed him, but didn’t.

When he eventually finished, Scree was sweating and weak at the knees.

“That was good,” Mica said after long moments, breathing as heavy as he. “But if ya done it again I will kills ya. Understand?”

Scree knew an invitation when he heard one. He licked blood from his lips and smiled. “Yeah. I understands.”

“Good.” Mica nodded as she stashed her knife.

“Finds anything interesting inside?” Scree asked, motioning to the house with his chin as he started to fasten his breeches. His breathing was still ragged.

“Nah.”

Scree looked up from the rise and fall of her tits and saw her smiling as she dressed.

“It’s just a kind of... watcha call it..? Book place?”

“A library?” He wiped a warm dribble of blood from his neck.

“Yeah, that’s it. A library. Lots a books and not much else.” The trollop gave up on her shirt— it was torn and useless. She threw it back on the ground and collected her club.

“Whats the hell is a farmer living in the middle of nowheres doing with a library?” Scree asked, more of himself than Mica.

“Don’t knows that he was a farmer. Just a crazy old guy. I went in there and he was mumbling something and waving at me.”

“What’d you do?”

Mica shrugged. “Smacked him.” She thumped her club into the palm of her hand.

Scree was still looking at her tits. “Did you takes anything?”

“Nah. Like I said, just books in there. Down stairs at any rate. Didn’t go up.”

“Right.” Scree had once spent a couple of months stuck in a human monastery recovering from two broken legs. A daft old monk had taught him to hate religion and to read. The first lesson had proven useful plenty of times already, the second was bound to sooner or later.

When Scree brought his attention back to the present, Mica was gone. He looked around— clothes hanging on the line, a small pile of wilted parsley, the whimpering woman, a bucket leaking water into the dust— then hurried into the building.

He had to duck to avoid knocking himself out on the ceiling beams as he strode down a dark passage. Bare walls crowded close beside his shoulders. To the left, a small kitchen. To the right, a room filled with boxes, as if somebody was still moving in. At the front, right near the door, he found the library.

A wooden desk dominated the room. Overflowing bookshelves lined one wall. Volumes, teetering dangerously, were stacked on the floor and the corners of the desk.

“They only needs one more shelf,” Scree said, shaking his head in disgust. “How’s they supposed to find anything whens it’s so disorganized?”

A small book lay in a clear space on the desk. Its pages were stained with age, the curling letters faded almost to invisibility. A big ball, painted blue and green and brown sat on a stand. The human, head caved in on one side, chest bloody, lay on the floor under the desk.

Scree ran his eyes along the top row of books on the shelf and struggled to make out the letters. He sounded out each word as he’d been taught, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Who is there?”

Scree jumped and upset a pile of books. He gripped his club tighter and prepared to do some damage.

But it was the man on the floor who’d spoken. He should’ve been dead.

“Who is it?” The human was holding onto his life like a troll with his last shank of meat. “Is that you, Akawi?”

Scree said nothing but stepped closer.

When he was a meter from the stranger, he stopped. A soft voice seemed to whisper in his mind, picking at the edges of his consciousness like a vulture working at a carcass. He didn’t go any closer— he knew magic when he felt it.

“Akawi, you must take the books and flee. You must. I know these men who attack us are just trolls and will not stop to steal two books, but they may burn them.” The man coughed a dollop of blood onto the polished timber floor. One of his legs shook violently, drumming a ragged rhythm on the tasseled edge of a rug. “You must take the books.” He coughed again. “We are so close. I know it. Continue the search for the portals.”

Scree didn’t move, hardly dared to breathe, and the dying man grew more urgent.

“Take the books and go. Flee.”

The troll could feel the man’s desperation pushing at him even as the whisper of magic started to fade. “‘s the books?” Scree asked softly. “Where?”

“They are where they have always been, Akawi. Where my precious books have always been.”

“Where’s that?”

“In the...” He struggled to sit up, though he should’ve been dead as dead. “Who are you? You are not Akawi. You...” But the man couldn’t say any more. He stared for a moment before slumping to the floor and remaining still.

“Gutted cats.” Scree stood up and kicked the finally-dead human. “Where’s they at?” Akawi, who ever he was, would know.

“So,” Scree asked the dead man. “Does I finds Akawi? Or does I finds something more useful, like food?” Food did sound good— he hadn’t had a half-decent meal in days— but a dying man’s last thoughts were for some books, not himself!

As if to decide the issue, a skinny, bony young man crept into the room, peering back over his shoulder. He looked as nervous as a cat in a room full of hobnailed boots.

Smile on his face, Scree grabbed the man around the neck before he could react.

“Akawi,” he said, “how is ya?”

He got a gurgle in response.

“Your friends here was talking abouts some books.” He gestured towards a stockinged foot, the only part of the dead man visible from the doorway. “Where’s them books at?”

Akawi, if that was who it was, shook his head and sniffed like a girl through his long, pointed nose. Scree decided he might save himself some trouble by first finding out if he was talking to the right man.

“You is Akawi, ain’t ya? Keeping in minds that if you ain’t, thens I mightn’t have any more use for you.”

The man nodded, eyes widening with fear as if he’d expected to live before that.

“Good, so hows about we makes a deal? You tells me where them books is hid, and I’ll let you lives.” Scree smiled. “Sounds like a fair deals to me.”

Akawi nodded again and Scree loosened his grip on his neck.

“The secret compartment is behind those books there.”

“Let’s go have a looks then, eh.” Scree dragged his captive across to the bookshelf and thrust him toward it.

Akawi stumbled, righted himself on the corner of the desk then crouched down. He folded a section of the shelf out of the way to reveal a small stack of books.

“You said you’d let me go,” Akawi said, sidling towards the door.

Scree looked at the man, at the books, and back at the man. He rubbed at his head. He didn’t make many deals, but the ones he made he kept— the daft monk was proof of that.

Akawi would live another day, Scree decided, but not until he helped some more. He shoved the man down into the corner furthest from the door.

“Sits there and don’t move.”

All the hidden books looked much the same to Scree but seeing he could read, sort of, he had an advantage no human would suspect. He worked out the first title as quickly as he could, then held the volume up for Akawi to see. “What’s this called?” He could read them all himself but that would give him a headache.

Akawi cleared his throat. “The Valley of Mist.”

He was lying. Scree held up the second without attempting to read it. When they’d gone all of the way through the pile Scree moved to crouch down in front of the human.

“Let’s try agains,” he said. “And for every lie you gives, I’ll break a limbs. Don’t know what I’lls do once we gets to number five. We’ll just haves to wait and see.” He sucked some blood from his finger and smiled.

The new list of titles mostly involved the word magic or something close. Only two didn’t. The Gates of Hakahei and The Second Opening— two volumes of not much more than a dozen pages each. That meant that those two books were probably the valuable ones the dead man had wanted to protect— he’d mentioned searching for portals, not doing magic. The other five books would probably be worth something though.

“Goods. See ya.” Scree collected his books and put them carefully in his pack, arranging them in order of size. His canteen was in a pocket on one side, his flint striker on the other. As he exited the room a moment later, he looked back over his shoulder and saw the human sitting in stunned disbelief. The look on Akawi’s face made the whole incident worthwhile, even if the books proved worthless. Scree liked to shock people.

He paused for a moment. “You really should tidy up in here. It’s disgusting.”

And then he left.

The street was deserted. Scree figured the rest of the pack were still at their rutting. Or eating, if they were really lucky. And all he had to show for the morning’s work were some books.

Scree grunted and scratched himself.

He was about to find himself a lonely human woman when movement caught his attention. There was a large group of men to the north of the village. They were moving quickly.

Screeching kittens. Scree was impressed. The humans had been on their trail for a week or more but must’ve run through the night to catch up.

He started backing down the street. He could waste some time warning his companions but sooner or later they’d all be caught. Or he could leave on his own.

I cans hide if I’m alone. And maybe if they killed the rest of the pack in the village they wouldn’t continue the search.

With a shrug, Scree decided to split the difference. Shouldering his backpack he shouted, “Soldiers,” at the top of his voice. Then before he saw any of his companions he fled, past the church and stable, onto the highway and southward. Reaching the ragged fringes of a forest he turned aside, angling eastward, following a game trail as it rose and dipped and twisted, snaking through the trees and sodden undergrowth.

The stolen books were a comfortable weight in his pack as he continued to run. There were more companions to be had, but only if he stayed alive to find them.

2: Sharp Bits

Scree sat up and leaned against the wall of the cave, dragging his pack closer. He was feeling rested for the first time in weeks and decided to read one of the stolen books.

He’d pulled a particular volume out so many times since fleeing the village two days earlier that he knew the title by heart, could tell by touch alone that it was the one he was after. But he’d never gone as far as opening the cover. He sat with it in his hands in the darkness, wondering if he dared open it, and wondering why he wanted to.

“The Gates of Hakahei,” he said, running his callused fingers over the letters stamped into the leather cover. He still thought this was one of the books the wizard had been trying to protect, but didn’t know why. He figured he’d never know if he didn’t read at least a little.

So he concentrated inwardly for a moment, focusing on a certain spot hidden in the back of his mind, until the darkness started to slide away. Soon his night-eyes were painting everything in shades of red and black. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, as if that could save him from any magical protection, he flipped to the first page of the book. Nothing happened. Scree opened one eye. The page was blank. He opened his other eye.

“All that,” he said, “and the damn things is empty. Rotten cats. Stinking, rotten cats.” He cursed loudly, throwing out showers of obscenities. When he turned another page, almost tearing it in frustration, he saw the title printed in dark, curving letters. The page after that was covered in writing— tiny writing that he struggled to read even with his night-eyes. He squinted at the letters and allowed himself a small smile.

“‘The seven worlds of Hakahei are unique in all the known universes of Tengama.’“ Scree read the sentence a second time, just to be sure he had everything right, though if he didn’t get it right the first time, it was unlikely he ever would. He moved on. “‘They are not amazing in themselves, beyond the way in which any world might be amazing. Atlantis has the Tashbar Falls and Amar River, while Tiandi lays claim to the Wixen Harsh and Sherindel to the giant secowa trees. But any of these things could have occurred on a thousand different worlds given a slightly different tilt of the table during the Big Bang throw of the dice. What makes the seven worlds of Hakahei unique, what makes them stand out, are the Ohoga Gates. Imagine stepping from one world to another, instantly, like you are stepping through your front door.’“

Scree thought his head might explode if he read any more, so he carefully put the book back in his pack and sorted through the words, rearranging them this way and that as if that might help him understand.

Seven worlds? Gutted cats! For years he’d thought one world was more than large enough. He’d spent most of his life wandering and not yet come back to the start, but... Other worlds? Maybe there were worlds without humans. Maybe there were worlds were trolls lived on their own. He picked at a slowly healing scab on his arm as he thought.

As a troll he’d always imagined that he’d die violently, surrounded by humans and battling to the end. But, if there was a world without humans...

Scree laughed. If there was a world without humans, the trolls would probably just get around to killing each other a whole lot quicker. But still, it would be amazing...

He heard something beneath his laughter and fell silent. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it but the sounds came again— voices echoing down the passages, punctuated by the tread of heavy boots worn by a group of tired men.

“Shredded kittens.” He gathered his pack close, sitting for a moment in the night-eyes-painted darkness.

The soldiers had found him.

He thought of staying where he was and letting the humans drift past, but they wouldn’t have entered the cave without torches and he’d run too far to sit like a startled rabbit now. He pushed himself to his feet, spat on the floor and edged his way to the entrance of his short passage.

The glow of torches reflecting around a bend stung his night-eyes. He turned and hurried further into the side of the hill, choosing tunnels at random. He had no plan but wasn’t worried about finding his way out. He struggled to remember letters, but like all trolls he could read the world better than any human could hope to.

With his mind refreshed from sleep, Scree noticed that the walls and floor of the passages were polished smooth. He ran the tips of his fingers along the stone. As a boy he’d heard heaps of stories about the ‘Builders’, the midgets who lived underground, carving huge cities into the mountains. Once, the tales had sounded like a load of crap, but with the book in his pack describing other worlds, the smooth stone under his fingertips made him wonder.

At the next junction he turned, and again at the one after that. Eventually, Scree found himself in a big chamber, ten meters across, twenty deep, with the ceiling out of sight above. The walls were all still polished, but now there were designs carved into the surface. Stone-relief humans lined the walls, staring forward. Each figure held an object. One had a slender, two-leafed branch, another a ball, like the one in the magician’s study. Others held pikes or swords or strange stuff Scree didn’t recognize. At the end of these two lines of people were tall ribbed columns, one in either corner, with a blank wall between.

Scree was about to retreat and find a hiding spot where he could wait the humans out, but he stopped for one more look around. When he finally turned to leave, a shadow caught his eye.

Between the columns at the far end of the room, sunk almost to the hilt in the wall, was a sword. He didn’t know if the weapon was whole, or if only a stub of the blade was left. Either way, he’d lost his club the night before and anything was better than nothing. It was years since he’d used a sword, but it wasn’t that hard. Hit the enemy with the sharp bits and don’t get hit yourself. Nothing to it.

With a quick look behind to be sure the humans weren’t too close, Scree moved forward.

Up close he could see the sword wasn’t thrust into the bare stone like he’d first thought. There was a crack running from above his head down to the floor, so straight it couldn’t be natural.

With a shrug, Scree spat again and wrapped his hand around the hilt. He pulled, grunting with the effort, thick cords of muscle straining. He added the strength of his other arm to the task and set his foot against the wall. His arms quivered. For long moments it looked like nothing was going to happen. Then the weapon slowly started to slide free with a loud metallic shriek of protest. The blade kept coming and coming until Scree started to wonder if it was ever going to end.

When it did finally slip all the way free he was left holding a weapon as tall as he was, almost a hundred and ninety five centimeters. It was plain. There was rust on the first twenty centimeters of blade, but closer to the point it was still shining like the owner had just been polishing it and put it aside while he went to kick his dog.

Noises.

A soft rumbling, like thunder, and voices as well. He spun about to see if the humans were already there. The light of their torches was visible, dancing on the walls.

The rumbling continued, coming from behind him. He spun again and saw two large sections of stone swinging towards him like massive doors opening. He stepped backwards, turning to flee.

But the humans were coming.

Standing in the middle of the room, sword gripped in his hand, Scree spun from one threat to another. He didn’t know how many humans were coming, but it sounded like a lot— too many to fight at once. Especially when he knew nothing at all about what was going to step into the room at his back.

The thick stone doors were still swinging open, silently now. Inexorably. The light from the humans’ torches painted the walls out in the corridor.

Scree dropped into a fighting crouch, searching for a way to escape. He’d fight if he had to, but he’d rather live. He thought he saw what he needed. Above the door through which he’d entered was a rectangular patch of deeper darkness, going all the way from one wall to the next

He threw his new sword up there sideways. It disappeared, clattering against stone, and didn’t come back down.

With a grunt he threw his pack after it and dashed across the room. With the help of the stone humans, he scrambled upwards. He used a carved knee, then a belt buckle, and then a shoulder, his strong fingers finding hand holds in the background designs. Then he was as high as he could climb. Turning to look, he could see a room above the door with a low rail protecting it. With two sets of sounds pressing in on him, Scree tensed his muscles and threw himself upwards and outwards.

As he thumped against the stone his hands clutched at the rail. He grunted when he hit, struggling for breath, then hauled himself upwards. His feet slipped over the edge and he lay still.

A voice from below roused him moments later. He couldn’t understand anything that was being said.

“[We’re through, sir, and still alive.]”

It was a weird language, like nothing he’d ever heard before.

“[What can you see, Sergeant? The cameras aren’t working.]” This second voice came from further away, sounding hollow and thin. It was gibberish too. The two men kept talking while Scree stayed perfectly still behind the protection of the rail.

“[Sir. We’re standing between two columns. The walls are covered in carvings of people. There’s about twenty people, each holding a different item. There are swords and helms plus a heap of other stuff.]”

“[We can get some experts in later.]” There was a pause. “[The silver sheen still fills the doorway, but we can see you just fine— and hear you, obviously. None of our electronic equipment is penetrating the barrier, however. Report on the conditions.]”

Another pause.

“[Air: normal, if a bit stale. Radiation: normal. The room is definitely empty. Whatever was making the noise earlier is gone. Looks like another room above this one— a balcony or something. We’d need more light to be certain.]”

Scree could hear the humans coming. They must have taken a wrong turn earlier, but they were on the right track now and heading for the room he’d just left. The voices continued from the room below, but the tone had changed, as if they’d heard as well.

“[I hear something, General. Footsteps.]”

A third voice joined the discussion. “[And there’s light. Fire-light by the looks of it, sir.]”

“[Do you want to pull back, Sergeant?]”

“[I’d love to, sir, but I don’t think it’s an option. If we go back through that door we might never get through it again.]”

“[Very well, hold your position. I have reinforcements ready, but I’ll keep them back for now. Try to do this diplomatically.]”

“[Of course, sir. What would you expect of me.]”

“[You’re a highly trained killing machine who’s spent the last few years guarding a locked door— do you really want me to answer that?]”

There was a bark of laughter from below.

Scree carefully crept closer to the rail as the humans got closer. At last they clattered into the room. They sounded like inept troddlers, intent on getting themselves killed. They certainly made enough noise to attract the attention of any watchers.

So, Scree gritted his teeth and stuck his head up to have a look around.

5: Gates of the Hakahei

Scree saw five men, humans by the look of them, standing in front of what was now an open doorway. The one at the point of the small triangle was down on one knee, holding something out in front of his face. The others were on their feet, larger black items nestled into their shoulders. Scree knew those things were weapons, but they were like nothing he’d ever seen before. Below him, in the sights of the weapons, were the other humans, the ones that had been chasing him.

“[Throw down your weapons,]” the leader of the strangers shouted. “[Drop them.]”

For a long while nothing happened. Finally the leader of the pursuers stepped forward slightly, sword drawn, and sunk into a crouched guard position.

“[Do you understand English?]”

It was obviously a question, but it was all still gibberish.

Another of the five men spoke, then another, and it seemed to Scree they were trying different languages. The fourth man cleared his throat.

“Can you understand me?”

Some of the words were strange, but the meaning was clear enough.

The leader of Scree’s pursuers nodded. “Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Keyman Talgayni. And I want the troll.”

“[He says he wants the... I’m not sure what he wants exactly, sir. I couldn’t understand the word. Something to do with a kachina, maybe. It’s a spirit of some kind, normally. It’s not easy, sir. A lot of Shonsone words don’t translate to English, and he uses other words again...]” And then to Talgayni: “You are a soldier?”

“No, I wear this uniform because it is the height of fashion.” Talgayni hardly moved in his crouch. “As I said, I am Talgayni, Keyman in the Popago Plains United Guard.”

“I’m Ben Dongoske of the United States Air Force Ravens. My rank is Senior Airman.” The strangers hardly moved either.

“Well, Senior Airman Ben Dongoske, as I said: all I want is the troll. We lost him, but there are clear signs out in the passage. There is nowhere else he could have gone.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t help you. I don’t know what a troll is, but we’ve only just entered this room and it was empty when we arrived.”

“Then he must have gone beyond you. We shall follow.”

“No, sir, he didn’t go past us. You can’t follow.”

Scree wanted to laugh at Talgayni. Couldn’t he see that these strangers held weapons? He mightn’t get to kill any humans himself, but he had a feeling he was going to get to watch. Anyone could tell what a sword was, and what it did, so the Ravens could be in no doubt. But those black things...

Smiling around his clenched teeth, Scree glanced through the door behind the strangers. A transparent silver sheen covered it, though there wasn’t much to see beyond. There was a tiny room with reflective walls. And there was something that might have been a door.

Talgayni laughed. “Five against twelve? Do you really think you can stop us?”

“We can, sir, if you intend to use swords.”

“These? Oh, we intend to use them all right.”

Scree watched as Keyman Talgayni leapt forward, sword descending before he’d crossed half the space to the strangers. Most of his men followed.

Thunder barked out, deafeningly sharp. Scree covered his ears, and watched as Talgayni stumbled and fell to the ground. None of the strangers had gone anywhere near him. They’d hardly even moved. Talgayni was still alive, clutching at his stomach and writhing in agony, groaning and screaming all at once. The air shattered again and more Popago Plainsmen fell as they rushed forward. Sprays of blood erupted from legs. One man was flung backwards, spinning about and cracking his head against the wall.

In a moment there was silence again, or something like it. Scree’s ears rang.

Mixed with the moans of injured men, he could hear something else fluttering at the edge of his attention. Someone had escaped. Scree wanted nothing more than to be gone as well, but he stayed still, holding his breath so he could hear better.

Two men had escaped. One was near to death, wheezing pathetically, half carried by his friend. He found it hard to believe the strangers couldn’t hear them as well. Scree wanted to take another look over the rail before he fled himself, but he didn’t dare.

“[We need medics in here, General,]” someone shouted. “[I don’t want to be the first man responsible for killing an alien.]”

“[Is the area clear?]”

“[There is nil threat here.]”

“[Very well. Stand by, Sergeant.]”

Scree scanned his hiding place and saw a door in the rear wall. Crawling backwards he carried his pack in one hand and the huge sword in the other— the sword that had wedged shut the door in the room below. He continued slowly, until he reached the entrance to his small balcony, then rose to his feet and went down the stairs he found there.

Picking up the pace, he leapt awkwardly down the last four stairs, stumbled and twisted his ankle. He cursed softly and limped forward as fast as he could.

Around the next corner Scree almost ran into the two fleeing soldiers. One was healthy enough, but the other was clutching a hand to his stomach, as if that would stop the flow of blood. His legs were painted scarlet. His pale face was slack with shock. Scree wondered if he was in shock himself. He couldn’t seem to think straight and paused to lean against the wall and flex his aching ankle.

“Leave hims,” he said to the other man, hardly more than a boy, really. “He’s dead. If you keeps moving at this speed you’ll get dead.”

Scree got himself upright and shoved past.

“I can’t leave him to those butchers.” The soldier’s face was bleeding from a gash and the look in his eyes suggested he was only just holding himself together.

Scree laughed. “Butchers? Ways I saw it, your good old Keyman attacked first. And after he was givens a warning plain as anything.”

“Yes but...”

“Ain’t no buts about it. I weren’t in the room behinds them Ravens, and theys was defending their patch. You dumb cats deserves what you got.”

“And you’ll deserve what you get, too, troll.”

Scree looked around the tunnel and wondered what he was doing, standing there talking to a man who’d kill him if given the chance. “You’s right,” he said with a smile. “And whats I’m getting is out of heres.”

Before he’d gone two steps the human shouted at him. “Don’t leave us. Please. I don’t want to die.”

“Dump the corpse, kid, or nothing I can do would helps you anyway. And shuts up that cat screech of yours.”

“Help me. I can’t leave him.” He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his uniform.

“You gots food? You knows anything about this place?”

“No,” the young man said. “I don’t have enough to spare. And I know nothing.”

“Suits yourself.” Scree shrugged and turned to start jogging again.

“Very well.” The soldier lowered his friend to the ground. “If you promise to help I’ll share all the food that I have.”

“What sort of foods?”

“Does it matter?”

Scree could have just taken the food, but decided he wanted someone to talk to after days on his own. A young human would be better than nothing. With a grunt at what the world was coming to, he hurried back and picked up the wounded man.

“What’s your name?”

“Nemucca.”

“Well, hurry up then.”

They moved deeper into the maze of tunnels. Scree tried not to leave a trail.

#

Scree looked at the dead man speculatively.

“You are not going to eat him,” Nemucca said. The young soldier was weak, but on the mend. He’d lost a lot of blood from a wound to his leg and his face would carry a long, wide scar. But he’d survive.

“I don’t eats people, you fool.”

“Then why are you looking at him like that? It’s not likely he’ll be carrying anything you want.”

“He isn’t nows. But he did haves a good knife earlier.”

“You took his knife?”

“Yeah.” Scree took the weapon out to show the boy. It only had a short blade, but was well made. “What? He won’ts be needing it any more.”

“But... He’s dead.”

“Noticed. He complained enough abouts it before it happened.” Scree had smothered him during the night just so he could get some sleep.

“But you can’t steal from the dead.”

“That’s right. They’s dead, they don’t owns anything.”

“No. What I—”

“Just shut up, Nemucca. If you thinks he should have his knife back then you come and gets it. Or he can.”

The soldier kept his mouth shut, but watched Scree edgily.

“‘Bout time I changed my policy on bloody deals,” Scree muttered. “Fetid cats guts.” He sniffed.

“What?”

“Shut up.” He waved the knife.

“You won’t kill me.”

“Why’s that?”

Scree continued to look at the dead man. He’d told the truth: he didn’t eat people. The thought disgusted him. But he did have other uses for bodies. He ran his fingers along the handle of the knife while he examined one of the corpse’s pallid legs. Nemucca wasn’t likely to like what he was really thinking any more than what had already been discussed, but Scree didn’t give a shit what the human thought. He’d been stuck in the cave for two days, sharing one man’s already meager field rations, listening to one man die and another one complain constantly. He needed something to ease his tension.

“Don’t do anythings stupid,” he said to Nemucca as he crawled across to the body. “I ain’t going to eats anything.”

“What are you..?”

Scree used the knife to start cutting through the corpse’s leg near the knee. Nemucca shouted angrily and surged forward. Scree turned to glare at him.

“Please, no. Don’t.”

Scree continued to saw at the hardening flesh. Behind him, he heard the human gag.

“You never seens a man get cuts up?” There was no reply, so he kept working.

After a minute, Scree gave the leg a violent twist and it came away with a loud crack. He pulled his prize away and held it up in triumph.

A shaft of sunlight angled down through a crack in the ceiling and he moved slightly so he could examine the end of the bone more closely. It was thinner than he normally liked, but would do. He started stripping the meat away, leaving a small pile at his feet. Nemucca wasn’t watching any more.

“I can’t stay here now that you’ve done that,” the human said, motioning wildly over his shoulder.

“You was going to be staying here with the stinking corpse? Damn, I shoulds have taken the boot offs first.” He slit the low leather boot and struggled to pull it free so he could keep exposing the bone.

When he reached the ankle joint, Scree separated the foot from the leg and tossed it back down with the rest of the body. What was left was a strong bone covered with small amounts of gristle and blood. He tore away a section of the dead man’s clothing to remove the latter and then started to work with the knife with a little more care. Another ten minutes passed before he was satisfied.

“You did all of that for a club?” Nemucca asked.

“What?” Scree grunted as he used another section of shirt to wipe his hands. “No. Why would I hits someone with a bone when I gots that bloody great sword?”

“What is it then?”

“There’s two things I have really haven’t gotten enough ofs in the last couple of weeks, Nemucca: music and sex.”

“Sex?”

“Yeah. You nots—”

“No.” The young man held up his hand and backed himself into a corner. “No, I’m not interested. Even if you were human. Even if I hadn’t just seen you cut off someone’s leg. Even if... There’s no way I would be interested.”

Scree shrugged. “Didn’t thinks you would, but there’s no harm in asking. I’m ain’t much into thats myself, but there’s only so many times you can polish the sword before you gots to use it in battle.”

The boy grunted in disgust.

“Know what?” Scree kept working on the bone, slowly sawing through the ends. “I think those Raven guys came from another world.” He’d been thinking about it for a while.

“Another world? That’s just crazy. There are no other worlds.”

“That’s what I thought. But I gots this book, you see, and it says there are other worlds, and they’s joined to this one by these doorways called Ohoga Gates.”

“You have a book?”

“Yeah, so I gots a book.”

“And you can read it?”

“Yeah, I can reads it. And likes I said, it says there are—”

“Yes, I heard you. Lots of worlds joined by doors.”

A week ago Scree would have killed a human for talking to him like that. He probably would have killed this one before he’d even opened his mouth, but the youngster would be more use alive than dead. He just gave Nemucca a cold look and continued working. “There’s lots a worlds, yes, but only seven of thems is joined by the Ohoga Gates. Those weapons them Ravens had, they ain’t nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“I’ll give you that. And they did have a strange language. And clothes.”

“That’s right.”

“So why did they only just appear then? They could have been wiping us out long ago.”

“I thinks the sword was jamming the doors shut.”

“The sword? And you pulled it out?”

“Well, how was I s’posed to knows. It was just stuck ins the rock.” Scree didn’t really care anyway. Like he’d told Nemucca— the strangers had done nothing more than defend themselves.

“Sure.”

Scree gave the human another glare and the lad hurried on.

“So, what else does it say in this book of your’s?”

Scree shrugged. “Don’t know. Been kinda too busy to reads lately.”

“Where is it?” Nemucca crawled across the smooth, polished stone of the floor to where Scree’s pack sat. He pulled it open and tumbled the books out onto the floor.

“Careful.” Scree wanted to tidy up the mess but his hands weren’t really all that clean. He glared for a moment until Nemucca started to go through the pile. “Pack that away properly when you’re done.”

Along with Scree’s flask and flint, there was also a hard, dry bread roll, a silver chain and amulet, and a silver ring, all of which had belonged to the man who was now missing a leg.

“You stole his things.”

“I thoughts we already had this conversation.”

There was a long pause. Scree watched the emotions chasing across the lad’s face; anger, fear, disgust. He smiled.

“Which book is it?”

“The Gates of the Hakahei is the ones I was reading. The Second Opening mights have something in it as well though. A wizard types guy was willing to die to protects them two books.”

“And I suppose he did die?”

“Course. But I hads nothing to do with it.” Scree got back to work.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“You think I yearns for your good opinion?”

Nemucca gave half a bark of uncomfortable laughter. The Hakahei book was the first one he found. “Not much of a book,” he said. “It will only take ten minutes to read it. He opened it up to the first page and settled back against the wall to read. After several minutes, he raised his head.

“You think this is true? All these worlds?”

Scree shrugged. “The wizard guy who owned the books seemed to takes it serious enough.”

“How far did you get?”

“First page was about it.”

“Well, it says there are thousands of worlds, but only seven are linked by these magical gates.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And people used to sail to the other ones in huge flying ships.”

“Sailed to other worlds in ships?”

Nemucca nodded.

“That’s stupid. How do you gets them off the ground?”

“It says something about ‘blasting’ them into the sky. Putting a fire under them and—”

“Yeah, right. I tried something likes that once. The ship just burned and alls of the humans jumped off. Which was kinda what I wanted.”

Scree finally finished with the bone. He held it up in the shaft of sunlight and examined his handiwork. It looked good. Well better than he’d expected anyway. It was clean and white and the ends were both lying on the ground beside the foot. The holes were drilled. All that was left was getting the marrow out of the centre. Normally he would’ve used water, but that wasn’t an option— water was running low as it was. He sighed, put the bone to his mouth and blew.

Nemucca turned away in disgust. “What are you doing?”

Scree spat the taste from his mouth.

“Why did you do that?”

In answer, Scree put the bone to his mouth again. This time he blew more gently and got a slightly raw, off key, note.

“It’s a flute!” Nemucca said. “You play the flute?”

“Yeah, I plays the flute. By the look on your face anyone’d thinks I sprouted wings and flown aways.”

“Well, it’s just...”

“Yeah, I’m a savage bloody troll. Knows all about it.”

“Why doesn’t anyone know about this. I’ve never heard anybody speak of trolls playing music.”

“Because most humans who see trolls ends up dead.” Scree smiled wickedly and worked at the flute for a moment. It didn’t improve the sound. “Nots very good,” he said. “The bone is supposed to be treated and dried and stuffs first.”

He played for several minutes, dancing the almost-notes around in the still air like dust in the shaft of sunlight. Nemucca continued to read, but cocked his head now and then to listen.

“So,” Scree said at the end of the tune, “what’s the names of this world ours is linked with?”

“We’re actually linked with three worlds. There’s a map thing in here.” The young soldier held the book up for Scree to have a look.

“Which ones are we on?”

“This one.” Nemucca pointed to one of the worlds, a circle drawn on the map.

“How does you know?”

“Because our world is called Kiva, and that’s what that says.”

“You sures?”

“Yes.”

“Then wheres are that other lot from?”

“That’s what I don’t know, yet. But it’s sure to say somewhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Somewheres in that book, it’s going to say wheres the ‘humans with the loud weapons and the strange accents’ is from. Am I rights?” Scree started another tune while Nemucca went back to studying the book.

Scree knew they should get going, but now that he had music, no matter how bad it sounded, he couldn’t force himself to move for a long time. He sat, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and played. The music calmed him like nothing else could. The strangers were out there somewhere, but for a while that didn’t matter. After several tunes he lowered the flute and looked at Nemucca.

“Other days, how’d you finds me?”

“I didn’t. You found me, remember?”

“No, I means how’d you knows I was in the cave in the first place?”

“Oh. We didn’t. Keyman Talgayni...” Nemucca paused there, as if thinking about his leader’s death. “Keyman Talgayni had given up. We found the ruins in the valley and thought we might be able to find shelter from the storm. We found the cave. When we got inside, someone thought they heard laughter and we followed the sound.”

“Right then. You knows the name of the city out there?”

“The ruins? No, but the valley is called Salisha, I think. Why?”

“Well I was just thinkings, seeing this Ohoga Gate things is here, you’d reckons the city would be mentioned somewheres in the book. Knows what I mean? But if you don’t know the name...”

Nemucca smiled. “Wait, Salisha was mentioned, I think. Or a word something like it.” The soldier flipped through pages. “You trolls aren’t as dumb as everyone says.”

Scree stared at Nemucca. “You keeps pushing your luck, boy.”

Nemucca looked up for just a moment before quickly turning back to the book. While the human read, Scree repacked his pack, arranging everything so they’d be easy to find if needed.

“Atlantis,” Nemucca said eventually. “The gate from here leads to a world called Atlantis.”

Scree grunted. That didn’t really tell them anything at all.

6: One Good Thing

The ruins of Salisha stretched for kilometers along the side of the valley. In some places it looked as though the ancient streets had been carved into the slope. Knee high walls drew ragged lines across Scree’s night-eyes’ view of the world. Scattered rubble and crooked, half-hidden paving stones made the footing treacherous.

The sky was clearing and Scree eyeballed the last of the night’s stars. The skeleton constellation danced on a retreating cloudbank. The Hunter stalked it, just peeking over the horizon. “How fars to this place?”

“About four hundred kilometers. I think. I’ve never been there but Tartila is a major trading port.”

Scree grunted. He could manage about forty kilometers a day. Halve that because of Nemucca. Take a bit more off because of the terrain. Down to maybe fifteen kilometers a day. And four hundred kilometers all up... He struggled with the sums in his head.

“A month, maybe,” he muttered.

“You can count?” Nemucca asked. Scree turned to glare at him. The lad cleared his throat nervously. “I imagine there was a major road between the two cities as some stage. We’ll be able to follow that.”

“So we spends a week lookings for this road?” He decided one place was as likely as the next and turned to make his way directly up the slope. They followed a rough once-was-street up over the top of the first ridge. After dipping down into the next slight valley the path died out and they were forced across the slope again to find the next gap in the greenery. They zigzagged into the hills. Nemucca limped along, his injured leg still covered in makeshift bandages. He cursed every awkward, half-seen step, while Scree almost thought he was at home again.

He laughed at that. Home! It’d been ten years or more, since he’d spent any more than a couple of days in one spot through choice.

“What’s so funny?” Nemucca asked, pausing to flex his leg.

“I was just thinking abouts home.”

“What’s so funny about that? I think of home all the time.”

“What’s funny is, I don’t really haves a home.”

“How can you not have a home?”

“I’m a troll, Nemucca. First twelve years of my life I was running around Mount Cardenze, inside or out. I slept wheres I got tired, ate wheres I found some food. After that I joined a pack and beens on the move since.”

“So you’ve spent about half your life sleeping under trees?” He sounded horrified.

“Yeah, just abouts. Not trees though— usually farmers around whos glad to share with us.” He smiled. “Course, that’s better than most trolls get. My mother was near the mountain when I was born so she took me there to be rid of me. Most trolls is running with a pack from the day theys born.”

“But that’s horrible.”

Scree shrugged. “And I suppose you spent all your life walking the sames streets, talking to the same peoples, until you joined the army?” He blew a quick trill of notes on his flute.

“Well, yes, but...”

“But what? I probably seen mores of this world than you ever wills. And I wouldn’t change thats for nothin’.”

“What about your friends? A group of them were killed not too long ago. Wouldn’t you like them back?”

“No. None of thems could help me now.” Scree smiled at the lad. “You my new friends now, Nemucca.”

He didn’t seem too pleased with the idea. “And what happens when I can’t help you either?”

“Thens we’ll see.”

They walked on. Scree played a slow dirge on his flute as Nemucca watched him intensely.

“So, why are we doing this?” the human asked eventually. “Why are we going to look for this gate?”

“Don’t knows about you, but I wants to leaves this world. My peoples is running out of places to run, boy. I haven’t seen a troll I don’t knows for more than five years, and I traveled right across this continent and a couple of others besides.”

“So you want a world where you can get rid of your bad image and start as just a man, helping the needy and doing good deeds?”

Scree ignored him, walking for a while in silence. “What about you? You could’ve left over the last couple of days and I wouldn’t have chased you.”

He ducked his head and blushed. “I’d like to fly between the stars, like the book says. That would be an amazing thing.”

Scree shrugged. “Going through a magical gates will hardly be likes flying to the stars. And a minute ago you weren’t even interested in this world.”

The lad shrugged. “I know, but...”

They were moving across the slope again. Scree ran his fingers along the top of a crumbling wall, watching as daylight started to bleed into the sky. A roosting bird launched skywards and Nemucca jumped in surprise, stumbling on a half-hidden cobblestone. The lad stopped for a moment to rub his leg and curse.

“If you tells me you twisted your ankle I’ll leave you heres,” Scree said. “You won’t even get to see the top of the next hill.” Nemucca could help him, but wasn’t worth worrying about.

“Do you think they’re chasing us? The strangers, I mean.”

“Doubts it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They’d be stupid if they was. What theys got to do now is strengthen their position. Nobody on this world is any threat to thems.”

“Rubbish. There are better soldiers than Keyman Talgayni. And a lot more of them.”

Scree laughed. “Five against twelve and theys slaughtered you withouts even moving. That was just with... personal weapons. Imagine whats their catapult can do, boy? I knows for sure that I wouldn’t want to get in the ways.” Scree found another clear street leading into the hills and turned to walk with his back to the first stains of the day. “Nope, whats they’ll do is spend a few days searching thems caves proper, thens they’ll send small parties outside. When theys see what the valley is like they’ll occupy it completely then either send out peoples or waits for someone to come to them.”

“Emissaries? You don’t think they’ll attack.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You attacked thems, boy. Theys tried to avoid a fight.”

Scree started to walk faster. He was pissed to see they’d left the city behind and seemed to be following the road that his companion had predicted. It wasn’t a highway, but the path through the bushes mostly ran in straight lines, or swept around long curves. Occasionally it switch-backed up the sides of the steeper hills. The waking day offered the only noise as they continued, climbing steadily higher as the sun climbed the arc of the sky.

The day wore on, and Nemucca’s complaints grew louder. When the sun started sinking they’d made barely fifteen kilometers.

“You was in the army,” Scree said as he leaned on his sword, waiting for the lad at the top of another long rise.

“So?”

He spat. “So, hows did you survive? We hardly done half a day’s walking and you fit to drops. And you never shuts up. Noisy as a cat nailed to a fence you are.”

“Well, I’m injured, remember. And we chased you for... I don’t know how long.”

The lad was trying, which was more than most humans would do, but that didn’t help much. “Got some good news for you,” he said.

“What? You found one of those starships?”

“Nope. Next best thing...”

Nemucca narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What?”

“There’s a river that looks like it’s goin’ in the right direction. I can evens see a boat.” The owner wouldn’t want to give it up, but there were no lights showing in the small ramshackle hut beside the water.

“Tartila is on a river.”

Scree smiled. “Well, if this is the right river, we could be there in a couple of days. Come on.”

#

Scree paddled the boat towards the dock. After five weeks of almost constant effort he thought he could feel the muscles in his arms growing by the moment. Four hundred kilometers had turned out to be closer to a thousand. A few days ago a farmer, cowering under a table, had pointed them in the right direction. So, they’d spent the best part of two days climbing over a low range of hills to another river and another boat.

Apparently, this was the right place.

“Can you see anything?” Scree asked, searching the shadows on the dock for signs of movement.

Nemucca shook his head nervously. “There doesn’t seem to be any of them about. It’s hard to tell though.”

Fires were raging all along the edge of the river. A dozen timber warehouses were ablaze. Stone buildings were burning as well. Clouds of smoke choked the sky.

When the boat nudged against the dock, Scree leapt up onto a ladder and wished he hadn’t. His legs and arms were aching. He wondered if he’d be able to make it to the top. Eventually, he climbed up onto the old wooden planks and crouched painfully behind a pile of large boxes.

Nemucca scrambled up the ladder behind him. His leg had healed during the journey down river and now Scree thought that he might be the one struggling to keep up. Not that it was likely the lad would lead the way anywhere.

“Who are they, do you think?” Nemucca said when he caught up. “Where’d they come from? Are they from Atlantis, like those humans?”

Scree didn’t bother answering. How was he supposed to know?

From the boat they’d watched as strange creatures, like colorful cockroaches— hard shelled and clattering— moved slowly about the city, killing anyone in their path. They had weapons as powerful as those carried by the human ‘Ravens’. The city’s residents fought back in some areas, but it never seemed to last.

“Where is this gates going to be?” Scree said.

He received a shrug in reply.

“You ever beens here?”

A shake of the head. “I told you that. We aren’t even in the Popago Plains any more.” He said it as if it was a bad thing.

“You wanted to fly between the stars a few days ago. Now you don’t even want to explore a new city?”

Nemucca turned to look at him for a moment. “There are monsters here.”

Scree laughed. “There’s trolls and humans and those moai within a few thousand kilometers of this place. You think there won’t be all sorts of monsters on other worlds?”

Nemucca swallowed loudly and wiped a sweating palm on his breeches.

“Probably ins the church,” Scree said. He tried to find a spire amongst the smoke, but there was nothing. He grunted and smiled slightly at the thought of the attacking monsters doing at least one good thing for the world.

Scree rose painfully to his feet and pulled his sword from the straps Nemucca had sewn onto his pack. He headed into the city. The monsters made the venture much safer for Scree than it would otherwise have been.

He crept along a narrow alley between two fire-blackened buildings. The air was thick with smoke and alive with the sounds of destruction. A building collapsed somewhere close by. People screamed and shouted. Metal clashed with metal.

Rounding the first corner, Scree was almost knocked from his feet by a fleeing man. He jumped back and a crackling, distorted stream of air knocked the stranger down. The man screamed but only for a moment. The hair on Scree’s arm stood on end. The smell of burned flesh filled the air. The dead man spasmed on the ground.

“Stinking cats.” It reminded him of lighting.

Licking his lips, Scree edged along the wall. He listened to the monster’s slow, clanking approach then leapt around the corner with a wordless shout. He swung his sword.

The shout was useless and the sword bounced away without even leaving a mark on the creature’s hard shell. He attacked again. Each impact shuddered through his body. Except close up, Scree could see it was armor, not a shell. Same difference in the end. Scree’s elbows and wrists rang with pain as he kept pounding. It looked like the monster wasn’t worried. It swiveled slowly, joints screeching all the while.

Scree knew his opponent’s weapon was in the bulging left arm. He also knew he could get in close to stop the monster bringing the weapon to bear.

Swearing and throwing his sword down in disgust, Scree did just that. He bent and wrapped both of his arms around a square, boilerplate leg and heaved upwards. Eventually, the creature toppled backwards.

Trying to catch his breath, Scree collected his sword once more. He rammed it with all of his might into the single, large black window in the front of the helmet. His first attempt made a crack in the surface, though his hands flared with pain. The second attempt shattered it completely. And beneath was an ugly, misshapen face.

Scree stared for a long time, standing astride the fallen figure, sword embedded in an eye-socket. When he pulled the weapon free and looked up, another monster was close by with its arm raised. Scree threw himself sideways as one of the almost-invisible lightning bolts crackled through the air. He rolled to his feet and scuttled away, down the street and into an alley. Nemucca was close on his heels, wide-eyed and fearful.

At the next corner he turned left, towards the centre of the city. He looked back over his shoulder and saw a small section of wall crackle and pop and let off a thin mist of steam. The monster didn’t have a hope of catching them, but Scree continued to run.

All through the city men, women and children were dead or dying. The monsters ambled around, hissing and clanking, dealing out death like a troll in a litter of kittens. Except their sizzling weapons struck down people from fifty meters away. They seemed impervious to smoke, pain and just about everything the locals could think to attack with. Here and there, the humans met with success, but it was always limited and very short lived. They normally didn’t live long enough to celebrate.

Scree didn’t know if he would be able to win another fight himself. Seeing a bakery, he slipped through a huge hole in the side wall.

“Where are you going? The gate won’t be in there,” Nemucca said.

On the river, Scree had eaten more than the human— he’d done most of the paddling, after all. They’d stopped at farmhouses to steal food and had snuck through a village at night to find their dinner, but it hadn’t been enough. The constant energy-draining effort was starting to catch up with him.

“I need food,” Scree said. “I need lots of food real quick.” Given that, he’d be able to go for a few more days yet. Without it, he’d go nowhere.

In the bakery, he started to shove things in his mouth, not stopping to see what it was first. Moldy bread and stale cakes. Flat bread and bisca. Nemucca emerged from a back room with a small hamper containing a wizened apple, crumbling cheese and a flask of wine. Scree left the cheese but crunched through the apple and drank half the wine in one long pull. It wasn’t the best food, but Scree gorged himself for ten minutes.

“That was interesting,” Nemucca said, when Scree finally slowed down. He was sitting on a stool nibbling on the cheese and a piece of flat bread. It appeared as if the relative normality of the situation had calmed him. Scree doubted either the normality or calmness would last.

“Needed energy,” Scree said. He was ready to go again. He took the final swallow of wine, rubbed his crotch and headed for the door. “Comes on.”

“Can’t we stay here for a while? They won’t come back, surely.”

Scree wasn’t sure of anything. He stalked out onto the street stepping around some dead humans on the porch. So much for normality. Nemucca shoved the last piece of his dinner in his mouth and hurried to follow.

Darkness and smoke made hiding relatively easy but hampered progress at the same time. Scree kept to the back streets, always moving towards the centre of the city and always climbing. He hadn’t seen a church but it was sure to be in the best position. There was no guarantee the gate would even be in the church, but religions seemed to believe that myths and legends were theirs to claim if they wanted and he had to start somewhere.

7: Wrong Church

Every time Scree darted across a street, or crouched in a smoke-shrouded doorway, every time he watched colorful monsters stumping about in the smoke, Nemucca was there beside him, like a shadow. Scree laughed at that and the human turned a fearful gaze towards him.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that it’s amazing hows everyone is suddenly your best friend whens there is worse peoples about.”

“I don’t think you’re a troll at all,” Nemucca replied petulantly. “Trolls wouldn’t hide from an enemy, would they?”

“You don’t know nothin’, Nemucca. Trolls’ll hide from any fight theys don’t want and any fight theys can’t win. Unlike humans who thinks honor is more important thans living.”

With that he was up on his feet and running across to the cover of an alley on the other side of a wide street. Nemucca followed.

It was a long, roundabout, smoke hazed journey, but eventually Scree found what he was after. The church had once been a huge thing of blue-grey bricks and stained glass windows. Now only one small section of wall and a long row of buttresses on one side still stood. The rest lay in ruins, spread across the street and the smoking remains of nearby buildings. A fire was blazing amongst the pews.

“What now?” Nemucca asked quietly.

“We has a look.”

One of the monsters was standing on what had once been the church’s portico. Scree couldn’t work out whether it was a guard, had stopped to rest, or was using the vantage point to pick off the humans who wanted protection from the gods. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it didn’t look like it was in a hurry to move on.

Scree handed his sword to Nemucca, shrugged out of his pack and took a deep breath.

“What are you doing?”

He sprang into motion, sprinting towards the armored figure. The monster swiveled slowly, armor protesting and Scree bounded up the stairs, launching into the air. He twisted and struck with both feet. The impact jarred his knees and rattled his teeth. He fell to the ground heavily, winded and aching.

Scree struggled desperately to rise. Once he was on his feet though, breathing hard and favoring his left knee, he saw that it didn’t matter. The creature was lying on its back, thrashing uselessly. The metal of the armor was scraping against the stones, leaving long scratches but finding nothing to help.

“Hurt, did it?” He moved aside as the monster tried to aim its weapon. “Probably didn’t hurt at all.”

The monster stopped moving and said something in a deep voice that sounded as much like coughing as anything else.

“What?” Scree crouched down, but didn’t get a reply. He grunted and spat. “So, hows I supposed to kill you, ‘zactly?”

Then Nemucca turned up and handed Scree his sword.

Scree smiled. “Yep. That’d be the ways.”

Nemucca turned away while he rammed the blade through the tough glass and into the face beneath.

“Let’s go.”

Scree strode through the remains of the church door. The fire was starting to die down. A few dozen bodies lay amongst the rubble. Did the gate lead directly off the church? From between the buttresses, maybe? Or was it hidden away in a cellar? Or was it in some other place completely? He decided that it must be below ground, otherwise someone else would have found it by now.

And who’s to say theys haven’t found it, he thought. Probably some old fart priest sitting on another world right now, safe and secure. Cat piss on him if he is.

“What’re we looking for?” Nemucca asked. The lad didn’t look like he wanted to do a lot of looking at all. He slouched on the splintered, upturned remains of a pew, clutching Scree’s pack to his chest and trying not to gag on the stench.

“Stairs.” He strode across and snatched the pack away. “Stairs down. Or loose pavers ons the floor. Or something. I don’t knows.”

“Well, that helps.” He swallowed loudly and closed his eyes for a moment.

Scree moved to the rear of the church, through a low spot in the rubble that might once have been a door, and into the space beyond. A low wall still stood at the rear, holding up a tumble of stone. A smoldering wooden door was lying on the buckled pavers to the left. Scree tramped over the top of that and found himself in the remains of a small room. The stump of a stairway lead upward, with a pile of rubble beside it. Another body.

He smiled. “Yo, Nemucca, get in heres.”

By the time Nemucca arrived Scree had already dumped his pack and sword. He had dragged the charred body out of the way and was beginning to work at the pile.

“What did you find?”

Stopping for a moment to glare at the human, Scree grunted. “Reckon there’s stairs under this pile.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ah.”

“You goings to help, or what?”

“There’s probably nothing there.” But Nemucca set to work as well, grunting with effort as he picked up the first of the stones.

Scree bent to the task again, working quickly and keeping an eye out for trouble. The first moon was drifting lazily down towards the horizon before he stopped to rest.

Sitting on an upturned bureau, sipping water from his flask, he noticed they were being watched. He cursed himself for not looking properly in the first place. A priest cowered behind yet another pile of rubble, dark robes blending with the shadows. The man set off a small landslide as he attempted to peer around his protection. Scree wandered over and leered down at him.

“No, don’t hurt me. Please. I’ll do anything.”

“You can starts by telling us what’s in the cellar.”

“What?” The old man wiped his face with a shaking hand.

“The cellar. What’s in it?”

“Cellar? No. Nothing. There is no cellar.”

“What?” Scree grabbed him by the front of his robe and hauled him to his feet. “There ain’t a cellar?”

“No.” The old man could hardly speak. He shook violently. “No cellar. Not that I know.”

“Cat’s guts.”

“You aren’t one of them! You are a troll.”

“Don’t looks so relieved, old man. I can kills you as quick as thems.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“There ain’t no cellar?”

“No.”

“A secret rooms?”

“No. Nothing at all like that.” The priest smiled slightly. “You must have the wrong church.”

“What?” Scree lifted him into the air this time.

“Ah... The wrong church. You must have... the wrong church.”

Scree raised his eyebrows.

“There is another church. A bigger church. The church run by the order of Bengo Ohoga”

“Ohoga?” Scree dropped the old man, who crumbled to the ground with a cry of pain.

“Scree!” Nemucca rushed to the priest’s side, flashing a dangerously hostile glance.

“What?” Scree asked. But he was already collecting his pack and sword. “Where’s this church?”

The priest was too busy whimpering with pain to answer. At least one of the frail bones in his ageing leg had snapped. Scree didn’t have time to waste. He strode to the two humans and looked down at them.

“Where’s the church?”

The old man pointed a shaking finger.

“How far?”

“A hundred meters.”

Scree nodded in satisfaction. He left quickly, striding between two still-standing buttresses and into the ruined warehouse next door. Nemucca shouted after him, something that involved threats, swearing and his mother. Scree grunted and spun about but the sight of another monster had him ducking for cover instead. He wasn’t seen.

In the shadows offered by a leaning chimney, Scree examined his surroundings. The moon had slipped down behind the buildings, but there were enough fires about to make normal sight easy enough. The armored figure continued to move slowly down the street, skirting piles of rubble, head swiveling slowly from side to side.

Scree stayed where he was, picking his nose while he waited. It looked as if the monster was merely patrolling, so he was willing to wait it out.

A moment later he cursed. Nemucca hadn’t noticed the monster at all and rose to his feet.

“Go on,” the human shouted. “Go to your new world and leave us here to fight.”

“Rancid cat guts,” Scree said softly, watching as the monster changed course and headed toward the church. “Of all times to grow a spine.”

“What are you waiting for?”

What am I waiting for? But Scree wasn’t sure Nemucca had outlived his usefulness. If nothing else, the human would be able to read the books again if they ever found a suitable time and place.

He swore. “If you are comings, Nemucca, you’d better hurrys.”

“Why would I be going with you?”

“Because you knows, plain and clear, thats you can’t beat these monsters.” Scree pointed to the armored figure advancing through the church even then.

“Damn.”

Scree smiled as Nemucca snatched up his pack and raced across the broken ground towards him. “Suddenly, that priest ain’t such goods company?”

“Just get us out of here.”

“I never did like priests.” Scree stayed where he was, just to annoy Nemucca.

“Hurry up.”

“If you’d shut ups for once we wouldn’t have to run anywheres.” The monster was nearing the rear of the church, lowering its arm to blast the priest.

“Yes, all right.” He glanced back over his shoulder but quickly turned away once he saw what was happening. “Just lead the way.”

Scree smiled as he turned to find cover amongst the remains of the warehouse. The church was not far beyond.

They moved carefully, staying behind cover when they could, but Scree thought that the monster had probably already given up.

“Stupid bloody humans,” Scree said.

“What have I done now?”

“Not just you. All humans. Easy as drowning a cat to gets away from these monsters, but you humans still fight when you has to realize that you can’t win. Death before dishonor and all that cat piss. Like I said before, ain’t no honor in death.”

“Depends on how you die, Scree.”

“Nope. But there’s honor in staying alive so you can win some other way. You dead a long time, Nemucca.”

“When you find someone whose honor you crave, then you’ll change your mind. But now, nobody is more important to you than yourself.”

“And there’s something wrongs with that?”

“You’ll see, one day. Maybe.”

Scree grunted but had nothing to say. They’d arrived at the church. A fire had long since burnt out, though smoke still hung heavy.

They collected torches from fallen sconces near the door and climbed a pile of bricks to light them on the blazing wall next door.

At the rear of the church, behind what had once been a thick oak door, Scree found what he was after. He led the way down the stairs and into a long, low room. Unrecognizable piles of timber were letting out small plumes of smoke. At the far end he stopped before an empty doorway.

“Well,” Nemucca said quietly. “Are you going through, or what?” He held his torch a little higher, as if the extra few inches might help show more than was already on offer.

Scree squinted through the gap. The columns on either side looked the same as the ones in the cave. They were tall and pointless. He thought there was a silvery sheen in the doorway, but with shifting smoke and the flickering torchlight he couldn’t be completely sure. Beyond the door was a short passage, and beyond that a room that was much the same as the one they were in.

“Are you goings through?”

“I...” Nemucca shook his head. “You’re leading this expedition.”

“If I’ms in charge, thens I’m ordering you to go first.” Scree glared at him.

“Uh-uh. No way.” The lad stepped back a few paces.

Scree sneered as he turned back to the door, but couldn’t really blame him. With a deep breath he hefted his sword, closed his eyes, and stepped forward. He remained living and on his feet. For long moments those conditions seemed to continue, so he opened one eye. He was exactly where he thought he should be. He opened his other eye.

“So,” he said, turning to look at Nemucca, “Am I ons another world, do you think?” He slung his pack up onto his back and shrugged into the straps.

“I don’t know. If you are, then... Well, it just doesn’t seem right.”

“What?”

“Well, it just seems that something should’ve happened if you just stepped onto another world.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just because.”

“Well, there weren’t no thunder or nothing whens those Raven guys came through the other door.”

“Maybe there was on the other side.”

“You on the other side now, Nemucca. Did you hear anything?” Scree shook his head. “Now gets rid of that bloody torch.”

“But I won’t be able to see.”

“There’s nothing for you to see anyway. I’m the one who’s gots to see.”

“But—”

“Put the damn thing out or I’ll go back there and put it outs on your face.” Scree turned away and closed his eyes, waiting for his night-eyes to start working. When he was ready, he took a deep breath. “Thats torch out?”

“Yes.”

Opening his eyes, Scree examined his surroundings with the red tinge of his night-eyes. No shadows remained for creatures to hide in. Apart from that, nothing had changed. The stones on this side of the doorway were the same kind, and the same age, as those on the other side where Nemucca stood fretting. The floor was level and stable. The ceiling wasn’t going to collapse. All was right with the world, whichever world it was.

In the next room, Scree paused to look around. More columns. More carved people, and to his left...

Scree screamed.

He kept screaming as he fled back the way he’d come. When he reached the place where Nemucca had been waiting the human had already disappeared across the long room and up the stairs beyond.

Scree stopped, somehow managing to hold in his laughter while he listened to Nemucca stumbling his way through the ruined church above. Finally the laughter broke free and Scree leaned against the wall for support. Eventually, the noise above stopped.

“That’s not funny,” Nemucca shouted, voice higher than it should’ve been.

“It is from wheres I’m standing. And you better stop shouting.” Scree wiped at his eyes. “Now gets back down here. The Ohoga Gate thing is in the next rooms.”

He went to stand before it while he waited for the lad to return.

“Scorched kittens, you is a bloody idiots, Nemucca. Puts out the torch.” Scree closed his eyes and covered them.

“It’s pitch black in here.”

“It is not. If it was pitch black, I wouldn’t be ables to see either.”

“All right, it’s just plain dark, then. Either way, I can’t see a thing.”

“You could sees well enough before whens you was running.”

“Well, I was running then and I’m not now.”

Scree sighed, concentrating and waiting for his night-eyes to turn off.

When he could see normally, Scree returned to his attention to the magical doorway. It looked like a twin of the one in Salisha, but he had no idea how to get it open. He tried pushing it, but nothing happened. Then he found a place to grip the stonework and started pulling with all his strength.

“Use the sword,” Nemucca suggested quietly.

“What for? You’s the only person around heres to kill.” Scree grunted and continued to pull. He thought he felt some movement, but wasn’t sure. “You wants me to kill you?”

“No. Use the sword as a lever.”

“You wants me to use a few-thousand-year-old sword to lever open a great-bloody-big stone door?” Scree shook his head.

“How do you know how old it is?”

“Nemucca, that’s the only weapons I got. I ain’t going to snap it ins half just yet.”

“What ever. You might not get the door open though.”

“Well, I’d haves more of a chance if you’d either help or shut up and gets out of the way.” He grunted and strained.

Nemucca set the torch in a bracket on the wall and dropped his pack on the ground, lending his skinny frame to the effort. Scree wished he hadn’t. The human just kept getting in the way. He was about to tell him to go sit in a corner when he definitely felt some movement. He pulled harder and both doors started to swing open on their own, as if driven by some long-still magic. Scree and Nemucca jumped back and moved quickly to the other side of the room.

The silvery sheen in the doorway was obvious. Darkness beyond conspired with the shifting glare of color to make it impossible to see much at all.

“Can you see anything?”

“Well, if I could use me night-eyes, I reckons I could sees a whole lot more.”

“Yeah, but you’d have to lead me around by the hand.”

Scree moved away from the wall, creeping across the floor like a cat towards a dog kennel.

“Stinking cats.”

He paused once when he thought he heard a sound, but then it was gone, or had never been there at all, and he was moving forward again.

He made it all of the way to the door, but didn’t see anything he couldn’t see before.

Taking a deep breath, he stuck his head into the sheen of color. He didn’t feel anything strange. Trouble was, it was dark on the other side and he couldn’t see anything either. He didn’t like the idea of leaving his head poking through while he waited for his eyes to adjust. He moved backwards.

“What can you see?”

Scree turned to look back over his shoulder. Nemucca was still crouching in the corner, torch in hand again and held above his head.

“I was just asking,” the lad said.

“Well, if you is just going sits over there, you don’t gets to ask nothing. Right?”

Nemucca shrugged, but he collected his pack and crossed to the door. “I can’t see anything.”

Scree grunted.

“Are you going through?”

“Yep. And so are you.” Collecting his sword and pack Scree took Nemucca by the arm. “Let’s go.”

Scree stepped through the door slightly ahead of the human. When his boot passed through the silver sheen he knew instantly that he’d made a mistake— damn Nemucca and his distractions. The ground on the other side wasn’t where it should be.

8: Elephant Tower

Ping glanced at her companions before closing her eyes and whispering a short, all-encompassing prayer. She crossed her fingers. Perching on the edge of her seat as she waited the final few moments, she crossed her ankles as well.

Twice a day for the last six months, at eleven in the morning and eleven at night, the clock in Elephant Tower had sung the hour right on time. Today was not going to be any different.

Ping held her breath and scrunched her eyes tighter. The zorigami crowded in the square outside, and possibly right across the city, hushed in expectation as well.

“Three...” Mrs Kew said softly, “Two... One...”

And right on time, the clock started its long, melodic chime.

The crowd outside, not visible from where Ping sat, cheered and rumbled into life once more as the Mid-summer Festival neared its noon crescendo.

Ping drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes. She smiled at Mrs Kew.

The old lady, seated by the table, smiled at everyone. She snapped the door on her ornate traveling clock closed and, with trembling hands, slipped it carefully into its hard leather satchel. “I am not sure which is worse,” Mrs Kew said, “being in Shark Tower or Elephant Tower on the day of the Noon Chorus.”

Ping shook her head, knowing what was to come. Tung would have an opinion and, sure as the Great Clock, he would offer it.

“I’ve been in both,” he said, pausing for four seconds of reflection and a sip of dark, cool wine, “and Shark Tower is much the worse. Imagine, if you can, the tension of waiting on the edge of your seat since midnight.”

Lan, Enial and Shen went to pour some wine. Deshi rolled his eyes and made for the safety of the balcony.

Ping rose quietly. She straightened the pleats of her lavender skirt and made her way through the arched door and out onto the balcony as well. Tung remained with Mrs Kew and his own rambling.

The gods were smiling on the Mid-summer Festival again. Deep blue sky— north, south, east and west— with just a lacy frill of clouds on the horizon. A cooling breeze, unexpected rogue from the outlands, kissed at the twelve Cardinal Towers and set their flags to fluttering.

From her position halfway up the side of Elephant Tower— the eleventh tower, between Shark and Tiger— Ping had a grand view of the city. The Great Clock was situated in the centre and twelve broad, tree-lined avenues radiated out from there. The Cardinal Towers sat on the top of the hills, at the heads of the avenues, a crown on the king of cities.

A thousand years earlier, Shadon had started out as a small village nestled at the base of the bowl shaped depression. Since then it had grown considerably, flooding up over the hills and into the plains beyond.

And, on this one day of the year, all the zorigami of the world was focused on the clocks. Or so Ping liked to think.

All the main roads, from the Great Clock to the tops of the hills, seemed to already be at a standstill. The crowd around Elephant Tower had grown unbelievably since Ping had last looked. The Jugglers of Jilin were undoubtedly the reason for that. Like the Emperor, the legendary troupe left the Imperial City on just this one day of the year, so there was always a large audience.

The square was designed like an amphitheatre but the balcony of Elephant Tower was the best vantage point of all, and Ping was there. In a clock makers’ club for little more than a year and she was standing in one of the Cardinal Clocks looking down at the Jugglers of Jilin.

Ping remembered previous years when she had stood almost a kilometer from the Jugglers, down the hill and far away, just hoping beyond hope to catch a glimpse of some of the flying colored balls. She had seen nothing, and most people would see nothing today, but tried anyway.

A group of farmers, with sun-browned skin and serious expressions, took up all the shade offered by the oak tree in the corner of the square. They may have been there since the night before. Hawkers had given up trying to move through the crowd. A line of young raven-haired boys, as eager to watch the show as any, had long ago claimed their places along the edge of the stone cistern at the very top of the seating slope.

As Ping stood quietly, one of the boys looked upward. His slanted eyes went wide with wonder. Ping smiled gaily and waved. The boy waved back, beaming. Then he tugged on the arm of his closest companion and pointed, exhorting his friend to look. Soon all of the little group were smiling and waving until Ping blushed.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Ping turned and saw Enial standing by her side, a mug of wine in one hand and a banny loaf, dripping with butter, in the other.

“What is?”

“Those boys are all exited by the fact that you waved to them.”

Ping chewed on her thumbnail as she looked back down at the boys. They were still gazing up at her. “Yes, it’s strange.”

“But, you might well have acted the same way just a year ago.”

“No, I—” But she had just had that very thought about the jugglers and wanting to view greatness, however distantly or obliquely.

“How old are you, Ping? Twenty?” Enial leaned back against the rail and took a sip of wine. “I can remember staring up at the Cardinal Towers when I was your age, thinking that gods worked within. And the Great Clock? Well, I was sure that the walls of heaven would be made from the same polished stone... To hear that magical midsummer’s day chime...”

“We aren’t gods,” Ping said defensively when her companion trailed away dreamily.

Enial laughed. “Of course we know that, but them down there...” He shrugged. “What evidence do they have either way?”

Ping chewed on her thumbnail some more. She waved to the boys again, and they all stood staring at her, mouths hanging open, toes wriggling in the open air over the edge of the cistern. They had not believed the first miracle but could not refute the second.

“And what’s more,” Enial said, as if he hadn’t stopped, “You are young and beautiful. That in itself is normally more than enough reason for boys to worship girls. Now come inside and have some wine to celebrate.”

Ping blushed some more, smoothing down her bobbed brown hair. Beautiful? “Celebrate what? We haven’t won yet.”

Enial sighed and took her by the arm. “Celebrate the fact that you are here, Ping. Those boys would give anything to be in your place, win or not. Your first year in a clock makers’ club and you are in the Great Countdown. Something that you have worked on for a year is within an hour of fulfilling its purpose, and tomorrow it will be pulled apart forever.”

“But the jugglers?”

“They’ll be fifteen minutes yet, at least.”

Ping allowed herself to be led back in through the ornate archway, beneath the elephant gargoyle, and into the shadowed interior. She took a cup of wine when it was offered and resumed her seat.

Tung was still talking to Mrs Kew. The judge was nodding slowly, but it was obvious to everyone— except Tung— that she wasn’t paying any attention. Everyone was too polite to tell him. When Tung finally paused for a breath and a sip of wine Ping asked Mrs Kew a question and a smile of thanks fluttered like a butterfly across the old woman’s crinkled face.

“How long have you been a judge, Mrs Kew?”

“Oh, many years.” The old lady counted in her head, looking skyward for heavenly help. “Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven years. But I really don’t know why I gave up making clocks. I used to work on the Great Clock you know, now and then.”

“You did?”

“Oh, yes. And a finer thing I cannot remember. Your clock is very fine, very fine, but compared to the Great Clock it is nothing.”

Ping chewed on her much-abused thumbnail and stared at the old woman, wondering what it must be like to touch the workings of the Great Clock. Only the best of the best even got to see the interior of the clock... As she stared, Ping was reminded of the boys outside, and what Enial had said.

“That was a long time ago now, though.” Mrs Kew sighed. Then, suddenly business-like, she pushed herself to her feet. “Time for the final inspection,” she said. With a clipboard in one hand and a stylus in the other, she tottered across to the steep steps and up to the clock level above. Tung made to follow but thought better of it. Instead, he paced from the foot of the stairs, across to the balcony, and back again.

“You don’t think the fifth fly wheel is too loose, do you?” he asked of nobody in particular. “Maybe we should have taken off the sharp corners for safety.”

“Maybe we should have made the workings out of timber,” Ping said. It was an idea she’d been thinking about for some time, though she didn’t mean to mention it.

Tung was in one of his moments of panic. “What? Why?”

Ping licked her lips, suddenly nervous as well. She had been thinking about it for a while, but that didn’t mean anything. Everyone was looking at her, all those people with many years more experience than her. She licked her lips again. “Well, metal expands and contracts with changes in temperature. Only slightly, but...”

They were all staring at her. Ping looked from one face to the next. “What? It’s silly, I know—”

“My girl, that...”

“Everything looks fine up here,” Mrs Kew said from the top of the steps. She was marking things off on her clipboard with a shaking hand. “I like what you have done with the counter-weight.”

Mrs Kew was almost as bad as Tung at times. She commented on the counter-weight after every inspection.

Enial sidled over to Ping’s side while Mrs Kew, round face tense with concentration, slowly descended the stairs.

“Not a word, Ping. Not a word.”

Ping nodded.

“The Cog Club was in the Great Countdown the year before last, were you not?” Mrs Kew asked. Having reached level floor once more she struck out for the table.

Tung was still staring at Ping, so Enial answered. “No, Mrs Kew. It was the year before that. In the last two years we were knocked out at the mantle clock stage.”

“And this year?”

“Grandfather Clock finals are this afternoon, of course, and we believe we’ve got a chance of making the Great Countdown again.”

“Not joining the festivities this afternoon then?”

Tung, having collected his scattered thoughts, shrugged and smiled. “We will still have a drink or two, I imagine. Our Grandfather Clock is made and will win or not... There is nothing we can do now. The same as the Cardinal, really.” Tung looked upwards, and Ping could not tell if he was offering a prayer to the gods or once more wondering if there was anything else they could have done.

But of course, the Cardinal Clock had been completed six months ago and had not been touched since, beyond routine maintenance. Any mistakes in its design and construction were long past repairing.

Mrs Kew nodded vaguely as she put her clipboard down on the table and resumed her seat. As Tung started talking again, Ping returned to the balcony.

“Do you realize you may have just changed clock-making forever?” Enial said softly when he joined her at the rail.

Ping blushed. “It is just an idea. Maybe the wood will—”

“Maybe the wood will do a lot of things, but still, one little idea can change everything. Even if we don’t use wood, because it can be effected by moisture, but... “

“Let’s worry about today,” Ping said. She did not want to think about changing clock making. “The Great Countdown and the Grandfather Clock finals.”

Enial smiled and gripped her arm for a moment. “Yes, let’s. Excited?”

Ping was excited about seeing the Jugglers of Jilin without even beginning to think about clock making finals.

“This is the worst time,” Enial said. “Between our last chime and the Noon Chorus. Tung is right though— we only have to wait an hour to know the result while Shark Tower has been waiting since midnight. The tension can almost be too much.” He motioned to the next tower, about half a kilometer distant, the one directly north of the Great Clock. “Can you imagine trying to sleep? Waking each hour to hear the other clocks ringing and going out to look at your own clock to see if it was keeping time?”

“But if it chimed on time just twelve hours ago...”

“Easy to say, Ping. I saw you praying though you know very well our clock was on time last night.” He smiled and took a sip of wine. “Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.”

Down in the center of the square, the Jugglers were almost ready. The six members of the troupe, four women and two men, were arranging themselves on a patterned carpet they had carried all the way from the Imperial City. They stood with stars and moons arrayed about their feet. The crowd hushed expectantly. All movement seemed to stop, apart from zorigami craning their necks and standing on their toes to try to get a better view. Even that stopped when people got what they wanted, or realized that they never would.

One of the jugglers, a giant of a woman well over a hundred and fifty five centimeters tall, took up six colored balls and started to juggle. Her dark blue robes, with stars to match the pattern on the carpet, were full and heavy, but did not hinder her. She tossed the balls in ever-higher arcs, graceful and fluid, in ever more complex patterns. A rainbow of color swirled over her head. Then two more jugglers started, perfectly mirroring the first. After another minute, the other three joined in as well and dozens of balls were spinning through the air, catching the light in dazzling splendor.

There were some zorigami who said that the sun was just another star and that the world spun about it in space. They said that other worlds circled the stars of the night sky, impossibly far away. Ping imagined she was looking at such a dance of nature. Worlds spinning about the juggling stars.

Then the patterns changed again. As if the six individuals juggling on their own wasn’t amazing enough, the Jugglers of Jilin each took one ball from their group and threw it to one of their companions. Balls were sailing across the intricate patterns of the carpet in impossible rhythms.

Ping was speechless. She gripped the rail tightly, leaning forward as if she might add another couple of centimeters to her height and somehow get a better view. At some stage the rest of Cog Club and Mrs Kew had taken to the balcony. Nobody moved. They stood as the boys had earlier, open mouthed and staring.

Across the other side of the city, a clock started to chime. Ping looked up for a moment. They all did. Mrs Kew pulled out her traveling clock.

“Flywheel club in Giraffe Tower. Fifteen minutes early,” the old woman said.

Ping gave a slight sigh. Cog had not come last at least, though they may still run late... It was one thing to get a clock to chime every twelve hours, but quite another to get it to do one distinctive, ring a year after you’d started to build it.

When Ping looked back at the Jugglers of Jilin, they had changed their rhythm to match the ringing of the clock, looping the balls high, holding them back just a moment longer.

And then...

Ping watched the center of the formation, where balls flashed past each other from all directions. As she watched those worlds in such startling proximity, the unthinkable happened. A red ball and a blue, coming from opposite directions, collided.

The two balls bounced away from each other, falling to the ground and rolling away into the crowd. For five seconds the hush of the audience changed from one of reverence and wonder, to the silence of shock. Then chaos erupted as zorigami made a mad scramble for the errant balls.

The Jugglers of Jilin, without a mistake in public in the last century, struggled to keep going, ignoring the small riot breaking out behind them. But with two balls gone from the pattern, they lost their rhythm. Struggle though they might, they could not get it back.

Ping was still leaning against the rail, yearning out into space.

Another clock started to chime.

“Pendulum, in Cat.” Mrs Kew said absently, quietly. “Ten minutes an thirty two seconds early.”

Down in the square, two more worlds collided. Those in the audience who were not scrambling to retrieve balls, gasped, as if they had not believed the first miracle, but could not refute the second.

The jugglers gave up completely then, perhaps in shock themselves, and balls rained to the ground. Some came to rest on the patterned carpet, others bounced away into the crowd and fresh scuffles broke out.

Ping settled back down herself, the heels of her sandals thudding against the ancient planks of the floor. Her hands gripped the rail tightly, thumb twitching, working nervously at a knot in the timber.

The clock in the tower above her head chimed. It started to sing just as Giraffe fell to silence.

“Elephant Tower, eight minutes and twelve seconds early,” Mrs Kew offered.

Ping looked up, as if she’d be able to see the face of the clock to make sure it was still running on time. Looked up as if she might be able to stop the ringing. But she could not see the clock and found herself looking at the blue arch of the sky instead.

Tung swore. Lan started to cry.

“Stop,” Ping said quietly, though she felt like swearing or crying herself. Louder: “Stop.” She was still watching the sky, fear growing within her. “Everyone, look.” She pointed a trembling finger and slowly, one by one, her companions followed her gaze. There was a black cloud in the otherwise clear sky.

“What is it?”

“It’s... I don’t know.”

Ping shaded her eyes. “It’s like it’s falling from the top of the sky. It just keeps coming and coming.”

Down in the square, nobody had noticed the thing in the sky. They still battled among themselves.

“It looks like a storm cloud but...”

Minutes later the object was close enough to see clearly with the naked eye. It was not one object at all, but a group of birds.

One single bird was out the front, leading the way. Monstrous wings beat steadily and Ping almost thought she could hear the air thrumming.

As the bird came even closer, with the flock behind, it became apparent that it wasn’t a bird. Not a normal bird anyway. It was more like a bat and there was something strapped to its belly.

Cylinders? Ping was not sure, it was too far away. But she did see when it dropped a package of some sort. A bat laying eggs while on high? But bats didn’t lay eggs.

Ping watched as the package fell, momentum sending it in a graceful arc towards the city. It fell and fell, almost too slowly to be real, and hit a low, slate roofed warehouse halfway between Elephant Tower and the Great Clock.

Ping gasped.

The old building exploded in a ball of fire, sending sparks and debris high into the air. A couple of seconds later a blast of heat washed over the square and the tower. Ping instinctively turned her face away. She did not see the second package released.

What she did see was another bat breaking away from its fellows. And more after that, a whole line of them coming to add their fire.

“Oh, no,” Tung wailed as another explosion pummeled the valley.

Ping lowered her gaze to look once more at the city.

Smoke was now rising from the warehouse in the valley below, a column to hold up the sky in case the whole world should start to fall apart. And another column was just starting to billow up from the ground.

“Oh, no.”

Ping put a hand to her mouth to hold in the wail that was building within her. Her mouth gaped, tears streamed down her face. She remained silent, unable to move, unable to push beyond the fear that had gripped her.

The Great Clock was in flames.

9: Djinns of Smoke

Wiping her eyes, Ping stared out at the creatures.

They were everywhere. After dropping one volley of fiery eggs the giant bats circled around and came in again, then rose up on columns of smoke and passed out of sight. More of the creatures were swooping down behind the hills.

Fire spread rapidly in some areas. Loud reports could be heard as ancient stone cracked in the heat. Timber buildings erupted in flames. Dolphin Tower, on its own, greeted the afternoon. Even the Great Clock was silent.

Ping broke into a fresh spasm of crying as she surveyed the ruins below.

The focus of the attacks slowly shifted away from the centre of the city, a flood of fire climbing the hills. Buffalo Tower collapsed under the barrage, even as it started to chime. It’s song ended with an anguished clatter and the thunder of falling stone.

As the dust from the tower swirled about in the air, mixing with the smoke from a swath of burning buildings, Ping turned to take comfort from the presence of her friends. She wanted to know that all of her world was not collapsing though the world outside was. But they were gone. She was standing alone on the balcony. Enial was last in the queue, racing across the room behind, following Tung and Lan toward the stairs and the street below.

With a small cry, Ping rushed after them. She flung open the door and ran down the stairs, following the fearful voices and thump of footsteps. She couldn’t think.

Dust rained down all around, shaken from the walls and ceiling.

When she made it out into the square, none of her companions were in sight. Ping found herself amidst a heaving mass of people. She was jostled from all sides. Someone poked her in the stomach with their elbow. Someone else stepped on her toes. Nobody seemed to know where to run.

Each breath was hot in her lungs. The air held the bitter, cloying taste of ash. She needed a drink.

One of the bats raced overhead, huge wings fanning the exploding eggs into crackling life. The three cylinders strapped under its body glowed orange with reflected fire.

For three seconds the surging crowd parted and offered Ping a glimpse of Tung. He’d been splattered by a green gel that burst into flames of its own accord. The people around him were suffering in the same way or simply could not pause a moment to lend a hand. The mass surged again and Tung was lost to sight, his mouth open in an unheard scream. Ping could not get to him through the press. She didn’t know if she could force herself to move anyway. She couldn’t breathe.

When the bats finally spiraled heavenward, one-eyed monsters, slow and unstoppable, marched up from the outer regions of the city. They had hard, bright carapaces that clanked and hissed as they moved. When they came, death followed.

The monsters walked with their thick, bulbous arms raised and wherever they pointed, zorigami died. Ping watched, stunned, as a screaming woman’s skin sizzled. The woman fell to the ground and screamed no more. Others took up the task.

The crowd started to move. They went anticlockwise along Dial Street, away from the main concentration of monsters. Pushed along in the ebb and flow of the throng, Ping stumbled and almost fell. A strong grip on her arm saved her. She looked up to see Enial by her side, tall and lean and grim faced. Then Enial went down himself, trampled in a moment under hundreds of feet. Gone. Ping, sobbing, saw Mrs Kew’s traveling clock being carried by a scarred, huffing tinker.

She felt each second like a lifetime.

#

Ping didn’t truly know what had happened to the rest of her club, but she had not seen them in the screaming, running aftermath of the first attack, nor in the fearful hours that followed. She had run past Deshi’s house at three forty five, fleeing another of the monsters. The door was hanging from the frame like a drunken visitor. The walls were blackened by fire, and djinns of smoke peered out through the windows. She had not stopped to investigate further, fearful that if she stayed in one place too long she would be caught.

Night came, or perhaps it was a darkness born of smoke and fear, and she continued to wander aimlessly, stumbling with fatigue, drifting from building to building. She was an insubstantial wraith herself, a djinni of flesh and bone.

At eleven o’clock, or as near as she could make it in her exhaustion-addled mind, Ping paused to listen for the lulling chime of Elephant Tower. But even if all had been right with the world, even if fire and smoke and clanking monsters did not now dominate, all the cardinal clocks would have been dismantled, ready for the new season. She shuddered and ducked into the doorway of a warehouse. Sheathed in shadows, she sat down and leaned back against the hard, bare planks.

In the darkness, she fussed with her skirt and blouse with trembling fingers. She tried to wipe away the grime and straighten the pleats. She combed her fingers through her singed and tangled hair though it would make no difference. Eventually, she clasped her hands in her lap and tried to sit still.

Ping closed her eyes for just a moment and woke with a start, blinking away tears. A monster was standing on the far side of the street. It seemed to stare at her for long minutes before starting to raise its arm.

Ping gasped, drawing in a lungful of poisoned air. Coughing wouldn’t help, but she did it anyway while she fumbled with the handle on the door behind her.

Eventually, she slipped through into deeper darkness, across a small office and to a door at the back.

Once there, she paused, not daring to move as she waited for her eyes to adjust. She would have stayed longer, leaning against the jam of the doorway, but the clanking of the monster’s steps was audible out in the street. She took a careful step forward but stopped once more when her smarting eyes detected movement.

“Who’s there?” she asked in a timid voice. She was ready to flee, though surely no monsters would be skulking in the warehouse.

There was no answer, but muffled sounds reached her from the fug.

“Who’s there?”

“Go away, woman. You’ll get us all killed.”

“But I...”

“But nothing. Scram or I’ll put an arrow in you.”

“Put an arrow...”

“Yeah. We have been hiding here for two and a half hours and now you’ve gone and led one of the bastards right to us.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Ping couldn’t think. Was this man really going to kill her? She realized she was probably silhouetted in the doorway, no matter the smoke and bad light, and took a small step to the side. Trembling fingers clutched at the front of her skirt, twisting the material.

“Get out. Go. I will kill you.”

“Leave her, Cai,” another voice interjected. “You can’t—”

“I can and I will. If it’s a choice between her and me and my wife, I know who I’ll chose every time.”

There was a momentary pause before the speaker named Cai resumed, as if rebutting another argument from his partner. “There’s only one of her and there’s seven of us. You do the math, Wen.”

“Yeah. Well, no matter which way I do the sums the answer ain’t right.”

But Ping knew Cai was probably right. They couldn’t fight the monster’s terrible weapon, so what right did she have to endanger their lives? What right did she have to expect their help? She would have turned and fled then, but her pursuer had already reached the outer door and was clumping toward where she stood. Distressed boards groaned. The whole building seemed to shake. Ping sighed silently and sank to the floor. Tears streamed freely from her smoke-stung eyes. She wept quietly into her hands and waited, ready to feel the heat and sizzle that had been the end of so many zorigami.

Cai and Wen, the unseen wraiths who had condemned her, started to move at the same moment the creature stepped into the room. Despite the conversation, Ping had no idea of how far away the two men had been. All she knew was that she could hear them retreating into the smoke as if they were right in front of her. The monster heard them as well. It did not notice her huddling on the floor nearby. With screeching slowness it continued walking, large head swiveling backwards and forwards as it scanned.

A soft shaft of light emerged from the monster’s shoulder. By the time it took another step the light was a powerful beam that lit upon bales of wool and rolls of silk. It clumped into the first alley, following the clearly audible sounds of retreat. Ping watched, mouth gaping, before scrambling to her feet. She rushed outside before she was forced to view the aftermath of the hunt.

A building across the street had caught on fire. Flames licked at adjoining structures. Another section of the city would be razed before long. Roiling clouds of smoke advanced like ghostly armies.

Ping was confronted by the problem that had always stumped her. Where to go? Where would she be safe from the armies— those of fire and smoke and those of hard chitinous shells?

Before she had a chance to ponder, a growing rumble drew her attention toward the source of the smoke. A mass of zorigami surged into view, a multi-limbed beast in mad retreat. The men and women were wild eyed but pounded along with grim determination. The quickest members of the group rushed past her, not taking the slightest notice, and the reason for their flight emerged from the grey shroud. Two of the monsters, bulging arms already raised.

Still, Ping could not move. She stood by the warehouse door as the zorigami, her people, raced past. She watched as the now familiar sizzle of energy brought down a straggler. Another fell, and a third. This last man, bare-footed and carrying a shovel, was close to her. He clattered to the ground not three meters distant.

The smell of burned flesh shocked Ping into motion and she staggered away, coughing once more as smoke clouds engulfed her. Wiping at her eyes she stopped in a shallow doorway and turned to watch. She could have run, but she no longer knew if there was any point.

One of the monsters turned in her direction, but didn’t seem interested in her death. It continued to follow those still running, shooting them down with casual ease, though they were outpacing it. It went by close to her, clanking noisily. Ping slumped to the ground. If running would get her killed then she would stay right where she was.

I no longer care what happens. But a metallic sound snapped her attention out into the street just a five seconds later.

Smoke and exhaustion muffled everything. To her left were screams, shouts. To the right...

Ping started to breathe again, tasting the bitter air. A copper flowerpot, dented and scratched, was rolling back and forth in a quickly decreasing arc as it came to rest at the bottom of a slight depression in the road. A daphido, in full bloom, twirled prettily.

Ping huddled further into the corner and started to weep. For a long while, she thought that was all she wanted from life. That and to die quickly. She couldn’t think and without clear thought it seemed useless to act. Running had gained her no advantages that she could see.

A new sound reached her then, the soft patter of feet. Zorigami feet. A child’s feet. The little girl was naked and hanging onto a glass-fronted clock, barely able to stay upright. She hugged it close to her body as if it was all that was left of her family, and quite likely it was.

Ping suddenly knew where she needed to go and wondered why she had not thought of it earlier.

“The Great Clock,” she said to the child, who ignored her completely. “I must get to the Great Clock.”

The Great Clock was where everyone would gather, if they could. The Council would certainly gather there, and they were the ones who would know what to do. Ping pushed quickly to her feet, wiping her eyes. She looked in one direction, then the other, and dashed from the doorway. Another zorigami emerged from the smoke nearby and was cut down a moment later by a monster in the smoke. Ping didn’t stop.

She had no idea where she was or what the time might be. She was completely lost. She ran for the next street hoping to learn where she was, hoping to find a way down to the Great Clock. The street she found was Eight Avenue. And across the way was Sundial Park. She was little more than a kilometer from her destination, though she couldn’t work out how she’d ended up so far south.

Eighth Avenue seemed deserted but lazy ghosts of smoke hinted at hidden movement. Indistinct sounds; voices maybe, grunts and scufflings; emerged from Sundial Park. She thought she saw somebody scurrying between buildings to her left, but smoke stung her eyes terribly and she didn’t really want to know anyway. She backed into a shadow while she tired to stop her shaking and catch her breath.

Finally, Ping turned to the left and continued towards the Great Clock. She didn’t know who would be there, didn’t know if that was where she truly wanted to be, but could think of nowhere else.

At the next corner, she stopped to listen. Muted sounds emerged from the smoke, but she could not identify or pinpoint any of them. Everything looked the same; buildings, street, fire-dancing shadows looming from the park. Corpses littered the street. Each shift in the smoke threatened to reveal an enemy, or prove that she was in fact lost and walking in circles. But Sundial Park was on the right, as it should be, and therefore the Great Clock must be ahead.

Ping crossed the street, the sound of her feet on the cobbles seeming loud in her ears. She tried to ignore the dead hands that groped at her ankles, seeking help that they were long past needing. Did she know any of them? Did the blackened husks belong to her friends? Were they locals or were they just visiting for the Mid Summer Festival? Did it make any difference now? She tried not to look. She tried not to think.

Over her footsteps and small sobs of despair, she could hear something else. A screech... A continuous, jolting screech that gripped her by the spine and shook.

In another protective shadow, where a jutting butcher shop butted against a jeweler’s store, she paused to examine her surroundings. Nothing seemed to have changed. She couldn’t trust her ears and couldn’t clearly see beyond the end of her out-stretched arm, but thought the terrible sound was coming from ahead of her, towards the Great Clock. She dared not move.

Three and a half minutes passed by. Each second ticking away in Ping’s mind felt like an hour. She counted the seconds. The screech seemed to shift around her. Now coming from the left, now from the right, now right in front of her. She shivered, her elbow drumming out her fear on the rough timber wall at her back. She clenched her fists to make the shaking stop.

Then, from the right, back towards the warehouse, came a naked child. The little girl that she’d seen a lifetime ago, minutes ago. She no longer carried the clock, but dragged it along the street behind her, using an ornately carved figure on top as a handle. The glass front of the clock had been smashed, as had the panel behind. The inner workings were displayed for all the world to see.

Ping stared, suddenly guilty. She’d seen a child, alone and in danger, and had done nothing. She’d left the child on her own and set about saving herself. That was no better than what Cai and Wen had done. Was it? Ping, suddenly knowing what she must do, stepped toward the little girl. The child saw her and stopped to look. But the horrible sound didn’t stop. The screeching continued to slice through the smoke with brutal precision. The child remained motionless, unconcerned, as Ping searched with watering eyes.

Emerging from the smoke as slow as the tide of years was one of the monsters. Its colorful shell was scratched and stained. A long gouge had been taken from an arm. It dragged its leg as if the bones had been broken. With each step, it set up a shower of sparks and the horrible sound. Ping stood, transfixed, as the figure continued to walk, not even slowing as it raised its deadly arm towards the child.

Ping did nothing, though she knew she should. She watched as the child was killed in the street. She opened her mouth to scream. But the little girl died without a sound and Ping’s cry died on her lips at the same moment. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, but she made no sound or movement. Though inside she wailed and shook her fist in the air, in reality she slipped slowly back into the shadows and waited for the murderer to continue his slow, agonizing walk down the street. All the while she was praying that the beating of her heart wouldn’t give her away. Once again, she thought only of herself, when she should have done something. She had watched as the girl had been killed and not even tried to help.

Seven minutes later, Ping moved on. She walked as slowly as the murderer had, no longer bothering to hide. No longer thinking about what she might find when she arrived at her destination. One moment she let an innocent child die because she didn’t want to risk death herself, and the next moment she might have cried for joy had somebody stepped from the smoke to end her misery.

She wondered if her misery would ever end.

The Great Clock had once occupied a lush garden at the point where the twelve avenues met. Flowering shrubs had nuzzled the foundations, while more mature trees waited at a respectful distance. Winding paths; cobbled and graveled, paved and boarded; offered all manner of views. Over by the pond, one could once stand and catch a glimpse of the tower, framed between poplars and spruce. Or, where the drinking fountain offered respite, a single graceful window on the side of the building had been on display.

Most of the trees were gone now. Three still stood, though even they leaned at crazy angles. Craters and mounds of debris dotted the landscape. Paths wandered away into no-man’s-land.

The Great Clock itself was also gone. The tower was a long line of rubble, as if the foundations had been removed and it had fallen as a whole. The city’s administration building, not far away, still stood in some places, thought the top floor was gone and the lower looked like a sailor’s mouth after a tavern brawl. Most of the west wing was teetering precariously on the lip of a huge crater. The east seemed to be in tact, though it burned merrily. The flames crackled noisily and painted the underside of smoke-drifts.

Ping wandered across the ruined ground, stumbling through the rubble, forsaking the remains of the pathways to make straight for the main door of the Great Clock building. There may well have been a dozen figures following her but she didn’t pause to look. She didn’t care. She hardly even noticed the dead that were all around.

The main door of the building was open. One leaf was hanging crookedly on a twisted hinge, the other was wedged between a toppled column and the remains of a glyph carved bench.

Beyond the door, a dozen stairs led down to the foyer, and across the foyer was the door to the tower. That door hung askew as well, leaving a large triangular hole that showed only darkness beyond. She crossed the singed blue carpet of the foyer, weaving a path around timber and stone and flesh. She averted her eyes from the motionless zorigami, as if that would make them go away, and ducked her head, passing through into the base of the tower without stopping. Moments later she almost stumbled when she came to the top of another two stairs.

Ping stopped, wondering what to do next. Her only thought had been to reach the Great Clock. When she had first set out, she hoped to find the leaders of Shadon gathering to formulate the defense. But she’d known then and knew now that no defense the world of Tiandi could muster would do any good.

Above her was open sky. The second story had been ripped away when the tower fell. A coppery moon was already high, sailing through curling waves of smoke.

The greatest moment of my life, Ping thought. As a child she’d always dreamed of being allowed to enter the tower of the Great Clock. Now she was there, if only on the ground floor, and the clock was no more. Near her feet was a huge gear wheel, twisted and chipped. Part of the Great Clock, lying on the floor like litter. Ping sighed and sat down in a shadowed corner at the top of the stairs, wriggling back beneath a tilting column.

After a moment of silence, she began to cry. She sobbed and sniffed, not caring who heard. She closed her eyes and shuddered as the remains of the day worked upon her mind.

She stayed like that for thirty-nine minutes and may well have stayed like that all night, face buried in her hands, but a noise snapped her back to the present.

A scraping noise. Muffled voices.

She opened her eyes and, leaning forward slightly, could see around the ribbed protection of the column. A moment later two men stepped out of thin air, high above the ground.

There was a grunt, a scream, a thump and a groan, though it took Ping a moment to sort out the order in her mind.

Both strangers seemed to hit the ground awkwardly, but one rolled to his feet to stand perfectly still in the center of the room, crouched, ready. The other stayed where he was, perfectly still as well, though for different reasons.

Ping watched silently, not knowing what to think. It was a strange end to a strange day. She wiped tears from her eyes and silently moved deeper into shadow.

Outside, she could hear the monsters coming.

10: Engineering

Getting to his feet, Keeble made his way carefully to the lockers located in the wall beneath Kim’s seat. Inside he found lanterns, as expected, and he fiddled with one until it finally burst into life. He stared at the contraption for so long that Kim eventually asked him what was wrong.

Keeble grunted. “You have to ask? In our universe the lanterns are so bright they almost blind us. Here they burn at a comfortable level.”

“Oh right. What does that mean?”

“I’m not completely sure. I’ll look into it when I get time.” He made his way back to his seat and sat down. “So now we wait?” He asked again, hoping the answer might be different. If he knew more about the ship he might be able to do some repairs, even without power, but anything he did now could cause as many problems as it fixed.

Kim shrugged.

“There must be some means of amusing oneself,” Meledrin said, “if being powerless like this is a regular occurrence.”

“You must be right,” Kim agreed. “Chess, maybe, or something like that. Cards. Books.”

After a moment of silent contemplation of the universe outside, Keeble collected another lantern from the locker. When he had it going he headed for the lower levels. “I can’t sit here for an hour. Do you want to see if we can find a chess board, Tuki?”

“No, thank you, Keeble. I think I will sit here.”

Kim had descended from her seat to take up another lantern. “Why don’t you teach Cuto how to play, Keeble?”

Keeble looked at the alien and decided nothing could be worse than doing nothing at all for an hour. He wondered if Meledrin would come as well so they could talk— he was learning more of the sign language all the time, but it was not yet enough. He sighed. There was only one way to find out.

#

When the time finally came there was a moment of humming from the ship, hardly noticeable, then suddenly the silver sheen of the gate was racing at them out of the gloom. The next moment they were back amongst the stars of their own universe and power returned to the ship’s systems one by one. Keeble let out his breath before realizing he’d been holding it. He liked to know something about the machines he was using. Trusting them blindly seemed too much like religion.

He started checking systems as they came back on line and hoped Tuki was doing something similar. Meledrin was scanning the radio frequencies for signs of activity.

“Batteries charging,” Keeble said. “They should be fully charged in... two hours at this speed. And all systems should running again in... three minutes. At the moment all we have is basic functions on each console and life support is trying to catch up.”

“Two hours ‘till we can jump again?” Kim asked. “And three minutes until I can accelerate? Right.” She sat back and looked around. “Tuki, what can you tell us?”

“I am still looking, mo’min. Without the computer to do the adding...” He worked silently for what seemed a long time. “Mo’min, we have traveled 22.893 trillion kilometers in the hour. That is 2.42 light years.”

“2.42 light years an hour? Jeeze, that’s pretty quick. I think.”

“We would not be able to travel that speed over longer times though, mo’min.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because we decelerate. The longer we remain in the other universe, the slower our average speed.”

“Right, I knew that. By how much?”

Tuki shrugged then said, “We slowed by 1/2 a kilometer a second over the hour. We would need to do another journey to see if that rate of decline is steady.”

“Right. But we are now about...” Kim added with one eye closed... “58.5 light years from Kiva? So how long would we need the next jump to be?”

“Without more information...”

“Guess, Tuki. Just make sure you drop us short and don’t over shoot.”

“Well... We would not make it in one trip.”

“What? It’s more than forty hours?” Kim didn’t sound pleased by the prospect. Keeble knew how she felt. Teaching Cuto how to play chess, even with Meledrin watching on, had been painful.

But Tuki shook his head. He had that look on his face that meant he was adding again.

When Keeble said, “We have power to all systems,” Tuki immediately started working on his computer.

“In the thirty-nine hours allowed by the timer we would, if we started at 20 kilometers a second and our rate of deceleration was constant, travel 48.5 light years. Then we would need to go back in for another four hours.” Tuki said.

“Plus two hours for the batteries to charge in the middle,” Keeble added.

Tuki glanced up but didn’t stop talking. “But we could do two journeys of 14 hours forty-five minutes, approximately, plus the charging time in the middle. So, less than thirty-two hours.”

“So, what if we do three trips?”

Tuki added again. “That would be... three trips of just over nine hours each, mo’min. With four hours for charging this time.”

“Christ. Which moron invented the universe?” Kim shook her head. “Let’s just stick with the two fourteens.”

Fourteen hours of the nothing, of the darkness? Twice. Keeble could imagine himself being bored stupid. Two hours until that happened though. He could fix as many problems as possible in the mean time. And find some solutions to work on while in the other universe as well.

#

The computers told him everything about the ship. It was a Taranev Scout Schooner, Class 1. Weighing 4576 ton when empty. Top speed in Real-space was 20 kilometers per second. The information was never ending.

The ship had a cargo capacity of 7300 cubic meters in the standard form or 4200 with the garden option installed.

“Garden option? What the hell are they talking about?”

The Hakahei was designed for a maximum crew of 85 and could, with the garden, go without an atmosphere or water purge for up to six months in deep space. It had a weapons compliment equal to that of a FSN (whatever that was) Ketch plus a compliment of support craft, which meant that it could survive on its own indefinitely— depending on the availability of food— even in hostile territory.

And... Keeble felt his mouth drop open... 98 percent of the ship’s structure was made of stone.

“It can’t be.”

Cuto said something, unintelligible as ever, but Meledrin translated. Keeble didn’t know why either of them were there but he tried to sort through the arm sign language that went with the words.

“I can’t feel it,” he replied eventually. “I can’t sense it. How can it be stone?”

He went to the wall and put his hand against it but still couldn’t feel anything. He hummed the first level of his Song of Being, but found nothing in the wall that he could recognize as stone.

“It can’t be stone.” But the computer said it was. “But it is.”

“What does that mean?” Meledrin asked.

“It means I know how to fix the hole, but can’t do it. My song is a Song of Being— I can make stone insubstantial. You need a Song of Doing to make the stone into clay so it can be shaped and molded and joined.”

“So if you knew a Song of Doing?”

“No, I can’t feel the stone, so I couldn’t do anything either way.”

“But you went through the wall to get in.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Yes, but obviously the bit I went through to get into the ship was different.”

“Cuto wishes to know what we will do in that case.”

“I’ll just have to patch it as best I can until I can work something else out.” He didn’t like the idea— a job should be done right the first time— but didn’t have much choice.

Level 8, where the hole was, was all fuel and water tanks. Access was through the Gravitic field ducts. He would need a breathing suit, but as long as he found the right access door and didn’t let out any of the gaseous fuel, he shouldn’t have any problems having a look at the damage.

The Engineering Bay was in the very center of the ship. It had batteries to the east and west, Gravitic field generators north and south and clocks above and below. According to the computers, Ohoga engines, plus water and air-recycling systems took up the remainder of the level. There were two of each thing as usual. Everything had a backup. There was also a bathroom, an office and six sleeping cabins, presumably for engineering workers. Keeble knew where he’d be sleeping.

He searched amongst the lockers and storage compartments and found a lamp. He also found a row of EVA suits and took one that seemed to be the right size. He looked Cuto up and down.

“One of these might fit Cuto,” he said after a moment, holding out one the same size as his own.

But the alien shook his head and spoke a few short bursts to Meledrin.

“Cuto will not need any protective clothing. The hurgon can apparently survive for some time without it.”

It made no difference to Keeble. He shrugged and made his way to a room to change.

The room he found was plenty big enough. It was four point two meters square. There was a bed big enough for two people, a table with three chairs, and a few cabinets. The mess of millennia was everywhere, some of it still in one piece.

After moving everything into one pile so he could investigate it later, Keeble removed his heavy boots, tough cotton breeches and linen shirt. He laid them neatly on the bed. After a moment of thought he removed his mechanical arm as well and set it down on the table. Finally, he pulled the EVA suit on, stretching it over his stocky frame and testing the breather. He examined the empty left arm, wondering what to do with it. And the glove for the right hand...

When he made his way back out into the passage, Cuto and Meledrin were waiting.

Keeble cleared his throat and stood where he was, examining the ground.

“What’s is the matter? Meledrin asked.

“I need your help,” Keeble told her quietly.

“Pardon?”

In reply, he held up the glove for his right hand. “I can’t get this on by myself. I probably don’t need it though...”

Before Meledrin could move— perhaps she had no intention of helping— Cuto stepped forward. The alien took the glove, opening the end so he could stuff his hand inside then tied a knot in the other arm.

Keeble nodded his thanks. “Come on then.”

There was a staircase, just a meter wide and book-ended by lifts 1 and 2, that ran all the way down from the Administration level to Level 7. A second set of stairs on the eastern side of the ship led past Level 8 to the cargo holds below. Halfway down these stairs, Keeble found an access door. A large red sign said, ‘Warning: Access to Gravitic Field ducts’.

“Kim isn’t intending to go anywhere just yet, is she?” Keeble asked. But Cuto couldn’t understand him and Meledrin had stayed behind in the Engineering Bay.

Keeble had no idea what Kim intended to do— she was a woman, after all. He pulled the EVA hood up over his head then fitted the mask and breather. He switched on his lamp and looked to see that Cuto was ready.

When the door opened, they found themselves looking out into a Gravitic field duct, a meter wide and the same high. There was a warren of ducts around the lower clock with the dark passages leading to every outlet vent from both Gravitic field generators. If one of the generators broke down, the other could be used on its own with no loss of control. There was not a lot to see— black walls, floor and ceiling, and doors leading away in all directions allowing access to other ducts and other tanks.

“Section 130— somewhere in the south east.” Keeble said to himself. He crawled— awkward with only one hand— through a half dozen passages and doors, making his way to the correct part of the ship. A readout by a door showed the tank beyond was empty of atmosphere. Keeble spun the handle and felt a breeze pick up as the air in the duct moved to fill the void. He went through with it and closed the door behind Cuto.

The damage, when they found it, was hardly visible. It was a faint line on the dark hull, down in the lower corner of the tank. If the material really was stone, and he could sense it, and he had a Song of Doing, Keeble could have fixed the problem. It wouldn’t have been hard, just time consuming, digging all the way to the outer edge of the hull and then rejoining the stone as he worked his way back in.

He crouched down, but could see nothing new. He tried to feel something with his mind, but there was nothing. He might as well have been looking at a piece of wood.

On the way back out, Keeble wondered if they really had to fix it. The crack was so small. But he shook his head, disgusted at his attitude. Of course it had to be fixed, if for no other reason than it was damaged and nothing should be left that way. “If we enter a planet’s atmosphere, the heat created will be immense,” he said to Cuto, as if the alien was the one who’d suggested leaving the damage the way it was. “That could make the problem worse. Secondly, there will probably still be fumes in the tank— that heat could make something explode.”

But how was he supposed to fix it? “Short term,” he said, half to himself, but remembering to do the sign language for Cuto, “we could just put a metal plate over it and glue it in place, but the pressure...” He stepped into the Engineering Bay and sat down in front of one of the five computers.

Meledrin was waiting and translated when Cuto replied. “What if we just pumped air into the tank, that way the internal pressure would help hold the seal in place.”

Keeble had thought of the idea just a moment before Cuto had spoken. It was simple but effective and he couldn’t think of an alternative. They couldn’t weld. They couldn’t brace it because anything long enough to reach across the room wouldn’t fit down through the ducts.

“That should work,” he said eventually, “depending on the expansion and contraction of the hull, of course...” Which would be a problem in any case. “See if you can find some adhesive and sealant and I’ll find a piece of metal.”

But where to start looking? He pulled up a map of the ship and scrolled through the floors one by one. Throughout the top and mid levels there were four elevators forming the four corners of a square around the center of the ship. On Levels 4, 5, 7 and 8, the ship’s huge clocks filled the space between. A hangar took up a large part of Level 4 and near that was a workshop and a storeroom. Keeble surmised that if there were vehicles in the hangar that were fixed in the workshop, then there was likely to be sheets of metal in the storeroom.

“I’m going to Level 4.”

Cuto said something but was already working at a computer with Meledrin.

Keeble made his way to a lift and stood silently inside while it rose, resisting the urge to remove the ceiling panels to see how it worked.

When he stepped out into the workshop a moment later, he had to work even harder to keep his mind on the task at hand. Ten meters away, at the far end of the long room, two vehicles were half dismantled. One appeared to be a Loader and the other a flying machine with a scoop at the front and an almost irresistible array of machinery on the back. A door into the storeroom was close by and he had no excuse to go near the vehicles.

The storeroom was almost as interesting as the workshop. There were thousands of different parts lined up neatly on shelves or thrown into boxes. There were tiny things that might have been used to fix a reluctant door and huge metal contraptions that could have been the part needed to fix the misaligned Gravitic field generators. And there was everything in between.

Once he had his mind on the job, it didn’t take Keeble long to find a container of scrap metal and a circular piece of boiler plate that was exactly what he needed.

Cuto was waiting for him in Engineering, gun-like contraption in hand. “There’s glue in that machine,” Meledrin translated for the alien. “Or, there was several thousand years ago, but it’s still sealed so...”

“It’ll have to do. Where did you find it?”

“It was in a storage room on the next floor. We also investigated a means for pumping the tank below full of air.”

“How?”

Meledrin explained but she obviously didn’t really understand. Keeble would just assume Cuto knew and find out the details from the alien when it was relevant. “The computer shows you how,” the elf finished.

“Come on then, Cuto, let see if this will work.” Then there were other problems to solve.

11: New Friends

Scree adjusted his balance, waiting to hit. Then adjusted some more. By the time he realized he was in real trouble it was too late. He fell. Nemucca went with him, pulled through into open air. When the torch breached the doorway, they were both able to see the floor. It was a couple of meters below.

“Scorched kittens.” Scree threw his sword away. The pack followed. He adjusted his fall, twisted. He hit the floor and rolled.

His shoulder jarred. He felt his right wrist crack, but he came to his feet a moment later. There was a loud crack when Nemucca landed. The human was flat on his back.

Scree didn’t bother to check on him. He knew all about broken backs.

The torch guttered fitfully on a pile of rubble. The weak light it threw showed a large room, half in ruin.

Crouching, Scree listened. Below the ragged, wet scratching of Nemucca’s breathing, he could hear nothing. It was an unnatural nothing that sang war cries along the ends of his nerves.

Moving slowly, trying to ignore the screaming pain of his wrist, Scree crossed to his sword but didn’t pick it up. “Damns the torch,” he muttered. Shadows stood like solid things wherever he looked.

More breathing, somewhere. The short, hurried breaths of fear.

“Cats’ piss on thats torch.” He peered into the shadows, trying to calm his own racing heart so he could hear more.

Finally he located the room’s third occupant. A woman, smaller than just about any human he’d seen, was in a small alcove at the top of some steps. Scree didn’t want to scare her. He opened his mouth to speak, though he didn’t know what to say. He caught the words forming in his throat, tensed, and examined the wreckage in the room once more.

Who she was hiding from? Was it him, or someone else?

Recent rubble, a hiding woman. The smell of smoke that he’d been too tense to notice. Scree swore under his breath.

The woman was near a doorway, and beyond her...

Scree moved quickly. He took up the sword in his left hand without looking down. A moment later he heard it, the slow clank of armored feet, and a hissing. He thought to move to the door, but was afraid of how the woman might react. She was obviously at the end of whatever courage she possessed.

Then it was too late. The monsters were there.

For a moment he gave thought to flight. His broken arm ached and his head was hardly better. Some food, a bit of sleep, a quick look at his arm before it was beyond help. All he needed was an hour. But he dismissed the thought before it had fully formed. He didn’t know what was happening outside so his main concern was to keep the woman alive.

“She’s mine,” Scree shouted to be sure the monsters’ attention stayed fixed on him. Then he swore, wondering if the woman could understand him. “Come and get me, you bastards.”

Apparently, the monsters hadn’t met any challenge on this world either. Scree watched, amazed, as the first creature started down the stairs, when it should have just stayed where it was and blasted him.

As the gold and blue figure lumbered down towards ground level, Scree dashed forward and went at it. His arm screamed with every movement, though he used the sword in his left hand. He worked furiously, hacking and cutting and thumping at the head, trying to weaken it. Finally, the faceplate cracked slightly. He rammed the point of the blade into the crack and then again, through into creature’s face.

When he was done he turned to the second, which was just in the door and swiveling to face him. Scree bolted up the stairs to meet it. Sweat drenched his body, but he kept going, dropping his shoulder and charging forward. When the creature toppled onto its back it struggled like an overturned turtle. It spoke long stings of spitting, grunting gibberish. Scree attacked the face of the helmet with a brick, then the sword, and finally silenced it.

It was all Scree could do to control the blood lust. With the pain in his arm and the shadows dancing in the fitful light of the torch and the woman cowering in the corner...

Woman... It seemed a lifetime since Scree’d been with a woman, though it was barely more than three weeks.

He stayed where he was, drawing in one shuddering breath after another. When he was in control he made his way back down to the lower level of the room. The sword slipped from his grasp and he sat on a pile of rubble.

He closed his eyes and breathed.

“Hello,” he said in his friendliest voice, when he could speak again. The woman flinched slightly at the sound. “I won’t hurts you.” Scree held up his shaking hands to show he was unarmed. After a moment, he turned to look at Nemucca, lying on his back where he had first fallen. The pain was etched onto the lad’s face. His lips quivered, his eyes pleaded silently.

“I won’t hurts you,” Scree said, turning his attention back to the woman. She was the only one in the room who could help him. Nemucca was finished.

The pain from his broken wrist throbbed through his body. “I’ms a stranger here. Can you helps me?”

It didn’t look like the woman would be much help to herself. She cowered further back into the shadows with every word he spoke.

“I won’t hurts you.” He finally had to lower his right arm to ease the pain. “Cans you understand me?” he asked, realizing even as he did it that it was a stupid question.

He’d met other trolls that didn’t speak his language, but never had trouble communicating with any of them. “At least with thems, though, we got somewheres to start from, eh.”

After resting for a few moments, Scree rose and searched about in the shifting torchlight. He found some scraps of furniture and a tattered banner. With grim determination he set about making a splint.

The pain was almost unbearable when he set the bone. He grunted softly, blinking tears from his eyes as splintered ends ground against each other. Then he struggled to hold the arm in place between his legs as he fumbled with the two sticks and long strips of material. While he worked, he talked.

“I thinks I’m from another world,” he said. “I gots this book that says there’s doors and stuff, between worlds. Hard to believe, I know,” he laughed through clenched teeth, “but heres I am, I suppose.

“I’m a troll. You don’t know nothing abouts trolls, do you? If you did, you probably wouldn’t be stills sitting there, no matter how comfortable you is. Nobody seems to likes trolls too much. But I gotta say, I don’t know why. Now, I’m assumin’ you can’t understand a words of what I’m saying here, so don’t takes any of this to heart. So, I mean, yeah, we kills people regular enough, but it’s nothing personal the way it always is with humans. Trolls kill peoples for all types of reasons, but at least, with us, you can usually sees it coming. You’re in my way, or I needs what you got, or my life would be easier withouts you in it. Know whats I mean. A human? Nows a human will kill you because your ancestor insulted some ancestor of his two hundred years ago. Or maybes cause your skin is the wrong color, or because you lives on the wrong side of a river. How are you supposed to plan for thats? Hows you supposed to expect it? Now, you got a big hunk o’ meat and there’s a troll nearby who ain’t got none... Chances are, he’ll want that meat and you knows you gots to look out. See what I means? Don’t trust a troll? Huh, never trusts a human is what I say.”

Scree finished tying off the splint and stopped to look at his handiwork. It wasn’t too bad, considering. Probably better than what he’d managed last time he’d broken his arm. It hurt like hell, but he’d live. That left the decision of what to do next. The doorway back to Kiva was above him, but he didn’t know exactly where. There were no fancy columns hanging in the air above his head, just... air.

He didn’t want to go back anyway. There was nothing back there to hold him and he had a chance to explore places no other troll had seen. And just maybe he could find a place where he wouldn’t have to fight those monsters every day.

“So, I needs your help, woman.” He tried to say it in a nice voice, but wasn’t sure if he succeeded. “Nemucca ain’ts no use.”

Scree moved to kneel by the lad’s side. He was slightly surprised to find him still alive. Nemucca’s lips moved and Scree leaned in close to try to make out what he was saying. After a moment of listening to the barely audible, wet rasp, Scree looked over to make sure the woman couldn’t see.

Satisfied she was still hidden in the shadows of the alcove, Scree reached out and covered Nemucca’s nose and mouth with his hand.

The human couldn’t even struggle. A pleading looked entered his eyes in the last few moments, but even had Scree been inclined to help, he knew he was already doing all that could be done. When Nemucca finally died, Scree went through his pockets and slipped the pack off his back before climbing to his feet. With the human’s gear, and his own, he went to sit on the top step, near the woman. While he sorted the collected belongings into two groups— wanted in a pile by his side, unwanted tossed out into the room— he started to talk again.

“Friendship’s a strange things, don’t you think? I means, people talks about doing things for their friends because they likes them or cares for them or whatever, but really, anythings they do they just doing for themselves. They does things to make their friends feel good, because that makes thems feel good. That’s all there is to it.

“You wants this bun? It’s a bit stale, but...” Scree picked some mould of the corner of the chunk of bread and held it out towards the woman. She didn’t move, so he put the food on the top of the steps.

“And family... Don’t gets me started abouts family.”

From the corner of his eye he saw her leaning forward slightly, eyes locked on the bread.

#

Scree’s arm hurt as if a savage dog was hanging off it constantly. And, though he continued to use the sword left handed, every time he killed another monster the pain became almost unbearable.

He stopped and looked back. The little woman walked three steps behind, silent, eyes drawn to the ground and her sandals like a burning cat to a water trough. One hand was twisted in the stained, torn remains of her dress, as if something worried her, but that was all the emotion she showed even as she passed the burned and broken bodies of her fallen countrymen.

Scree led the way to the side of the street and into the shade of a crumbling wall. An over-turned wagon hid them from view as he sat and once more tried to draw her into a conversation of some kind. He talked and gestured and nudged her. But she had hardly reacted. So he gave up and started to walk again.

Scree wondered if she’d be any help at all. Glancing back over his shoulder, he looked her up and down. She was tiny, hardly bigger than a child. Her tattered dress revealed hints of small, firm breasts and slim legs. Scree rubbed his crotch. She could have her uses, but he would wait to see what happened.

The city was quiet. If any residents still lived, they were staying indoors. Scree thought that maybe they spent as much effort hiding from him as they did from the monsters. These people might not know trolls, but they surely knew big, mean looking men with swords, and that was enough.

Most of the monsters seemed to have left too. Perhaps they’d moved on to some other city. Those that remained were solitary figures, lurking at intersections like guards or policemen. Or skulking in shadows like criminals. Scree avoided almost every form of life.

But he couldn’t avoid the dead. He’d long ago given up trying. He’d long ago given up looking back to see if the woman was still there after each new crop of corpses. She seemed to ignore them all, stepping over them, or moving around them as if they were sleeping dogs. Scree hardly noticed them either, but was sure it was for different reasons.

He walked almost silently, scanning the surroundings with constant care. A noise erupted from an alley, but Scree ignored it. A dog and cat. He looked back over his shoulder and saw that his companion had stopped. She was dividing her glance between the alley and Scree, as if wondering why he was still there and not dashing off to make another kill.

Scree watched her until the two animals brought their chase into the clear.

“I won’t let anything hurts you,” he said, and it was true. He needed her alive if he was to have any chance of finding another gate, or even staying alive. There might be other people around somewhere, but the sad case trailing in his wake was the only one he was sure of. “I won’t lets you get hurt. All right? You help me and I’ll help you. We got a deal?” She didn’t react, so he dragged her gently forward. Once she was moving she continued to move, following a few paces behind, so they could continue their slow trek through the city.

At the next corner, one of the monsters was waiting. Scree motioned for his companion to wait where she was as he walked up behind the creature. When he attacked, his sword was a blur of motion. He had struck the creature’s neck four times before it even reacted. With the eighth powerful blow, he had success. The green and maroon armor cracked slightly where helmet and body met. The next strike widened the hole enough for him to get the sword through and skewer the creature inside. It crashed to the ground with a hiss and a crackle.

After a quick scan of the area, Scree went back to the little woman. He slung his pack over his back, then took her by the shoulder to start her moving.

He moved on carefully, starting to cross the street heading ever westwards. Though why west and not some other direction, he didn’t know. When he looked back, the woman had stopped again. She was standing right beside the body of the monster.

“Great lots of help you’ll be I reckons. Come on.” Making his way back, he looked at the armor on the ground and gave it a kick before taking her arm yet again. But she resisted his gentle tug. There wasn’t a lot of resistance, but it was enough to notice. The woman continued to stare at the body and Scree knew he’d made a mistake. She’d seen the corpses of her own people but it was the first time she’d gotten close to one of the monsters. She seemed to have slipped further away from the world of the living. She stared and stared and Scree didn’t know what to do.

Did he leave her for a moment, to vent some grief? Or did he take her away? The woman’s slanted eyes were glued to the partially severed neck and the thick, dark blood pulsing out. When she gagged Scree started to draw her away.

“[Wait.]”

Scree almost fell over. He didn’t know what she’d said, but she’d spoken, and that was more than anything previously. “Hello?”

“[Look. Look at this.]” She pointed to the hole in the armor.

“What?”

She looked up for a moment and Scree saw a hint of life sparking in her eyes. “[Look. The shell, it isn’t attached to the inner part.]”

Scree shrugged. What else could he do? He was beckoned forward, though he didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to be looking at.

“[This shell is like armor. It’s...]” She laughed thinly. “[Maybe it is armor.]” She scratched at the armor as if testing it. “[It’s metal.]” Another laugh.

Scree watched her carefully. He had no idea what she was saying, but if the thing that had caught her interest brought her forth, he was willing to hang around for a while to let it do some more.

The woman crouched down and tapped the bright armor on the monster. “[Armor.]” She touched at her own torn shirt. “[It comes off, like clothes.]”

Scree smiled slightly and nodded. “Yes, it’s armor. Only just work that out?” He used her word. “Armor.”

“[If this is armor, what about this?]” She pointed to the monster’s bulging arm, to Scree’s sword, and back to the arm.

Scree stood perfectly still, staring, trying to work out what she was saying. “The outer shell bit is armor,” he said. “So, the big bit on the arm... is... part of the armor?” Scree smiled broadly. “Gangrene cats. The weapon is part of the armor. Why didn’t I think of that?” He checked their surroundings once and handed the woman his sword, which was taller than she was. Then, with a grunt of effort and pain, he grabbed the monster and dragged it into what had once been a fruit store. The woman dragged the sword along behind, staring at the dark blood marking the blade.

12: Swinging Cats

Scree crouched down by the monster’s side and looked at his companion. “I’m Scree,” he said. “What’s your name?” But of course, she didn’t understand. He pointed to himself. “Scree.”

The woman smiled slightly, pushed dark brown hair away from her eyes. “Ping.”

“Well, then, Ping, what do we do now?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. He hunted through his pack and pulled out the knife he’d taken from the dead soldier a lifetime ago. In a moment he was working on the elbow joint with the short, broad blade.

It didn’t work. Scree swore at his injured arm, dropped the knife and looked around.

“Wait here.” He raced outside and, looking around, found a blacksmiths workshop. He collected a mallet and chisel. Back with the armor, he pounded the chisel into the elbow joint. He wrenched it free and swung again.

Eventually the limb came free and he pulled at it carefully. It resisted for a moment, but then the hard armor started to slide away. There were two ropes attached, running through the inside of the armor.

He started to wrench it apart, but Ping placed a hand on his arm and indicated the cords.

“We needs these?” he asked.

It didn’t help all that much when Ping shrugged in reply.

“Why would we need the ropes?” They were strange things, not really rope. Soft, but tough at the same time. Shiny.

When Ping shrugged again, Scree tried to think it through.

“Hold on then.” He grabbed his tools and started to work on the other arm. In a couple of minutes he had it free and found only one cord in there. Not a great deal of help there either, though obviously they were significant in some way. He started working on the shoulder joint with more care than he had for the elbow.

“Its like a type of burning, what this thing does, right?” He sat back and looked at the half-dismantled arm. “What if it’s like sticking a bit of metal in a fire? You stick one end in, and the other end is nowhere near the heat, but it’ll get hot eventually, right?” He didn’t even look at his companion. “The heat goes along the rope thingy, maybe. Maybe the heat goes from... somewhere... to the arm and the arm throws it out.” He smiled and nodded. It seemed like a strange way to do things, but he’d seen enough strange things in the last couple of days that he wouldn’t be surprised.

Eventually the shoulder came away and the cords were there as well, heading towards the lump on the back of the armor. Scree wondered what to do next.

“[How do they get out?]” Ping asked. Scree didn’t know what she said, but he knew it was a question, so he turned to look at her. Her last few questions had been good ones. She repeated the sentence as if it’d make any difference.

“Yeah, really?” He smiled.

Ping looked exasperated for a moment, then mimed getting undressed. Scree didn’t think she wanted to rut. Which was a bit of a shame.

“Taking off clothes,” he said.

Then she reached through the gap in the elbow and pointed at the blue leathery skin beneath. She looked to see if Scree was watching.

“Yeah. Monster guy taking off clothes.”

And Ping shrugged her shoulders. “[How?]”

Scree went through the forms of questions and tried to relate it to taking off clothes. “What? Why? Who? How? How does he take off his armor? Right.” He smiled. It’s armor. He has to be able to take it off somehow.

“So, how does he takes it off?”

Ping sat down by his side, but didn’t offer any suggestions.

“A lever maybes.” Scree scratched his bald scalp, eyes narrowing in concentration. This would be a lot easier if there was someone I could beats the answers out of. “It has to be somewhere that he can get his hand to it, right? So, on the outside— which would be stupid— or inside the suit, near the hand.” Scree nodded and got his chisel.

He looked at the creature for a moment, then at Ping. He reached over and covered her eyes with her hand. When he was sure she couldn’t see and wasn’t going to look, he swapped his chisel for his sword and cut off the creature’s left arm at the elbow.

Then he twisted the forearm at right angles to the rest of the arm and, with some twisting and tugging, pulled it free of the armor. Scree tossed the limb, with a flat, broad, four-fingered hand, into the shadows in a corner where Ping might not see it.

After struggling to get his hand inside the armor, he felt some tiny little levers and some buttons.

Pointing the arm at a wall, Scree shifted the first lever. It clicked and locked into the new position.

Nothing else happened. He moved it back to where it had been.

A button next— the weapon sent out a spurt of energy that burned a dark patch on the wall before Scree thought to let go. He looked at Ping and gave a smile.

With the third, another little lever, there was a hiss of air. The armor split open like a clamshell. Every piece hinged open to reveal the twisted, ugly monster— dressed in bright silken breeches— and the interior of the suit.

Ping gave a giggle of joy and knelt by Scree to look— more animation than she had shown since he’d known her. But what were they looking at?

Scree grabbed the monster by a leg and its remaining arm and hauled it free. He dragged the strange, blue skinned thing to the corner near its arm. Spasms of fire lanced through his own arm, but he ignored the pain, hurrying back to see what he could see.

He didn’t know what to do next. He could understand a door handle enough to use it. He could understand a lever and a pulley. But the machines inside the suit? He couldn’t begin to understand them. If that’s what they were. But Ping just looked for a moment before starting to open panels. There was wire and cords and... Scree didn’t know what they were.

Ping started to pull free the rope that went to the arm. She followed it as far as she could, then released a large panel in the back to see what was in there. There was a black box, which she seemed to think was important. She undid some buckles and pulled it free.

“[Do you know about electricity, Scree?]”

“You grabs a live cat by the tail and swings it around your head,” Scree said, “you can throws it further than you can throw a dead one. Don’t knows why, but there you go.” He smiled for a moment and shrugged.

“[Well, I think this works by electricity. If only I knew a bit more about it myself. Hardly anyone knows anything about it.]”

There were dozens of ropes attached to the black box. One of the ropes from the arm had been unraveled into a lot of smaller ropes and Scree didn’t know how they’d work out what any of them were for. Again, Ping didn’t look worried. After thinking for a minute, she disconnected one wire, then pointed from the arm to the burnt patch on the wall. Scree took the clue, and, choosing another wall, pressed the weapon’s button. As expected, the weapon bucked in his hand slightly and burned a patch on the wall.

Scree watched as Ping reconnected the rope and disconnected another. She nodded again and Scree pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

Ping smiled. But then she scratched at her head and, after reattaching the cord, took off the other one that went from the arm. At her prompt, Scree tried the weapon again. And again, nothing.

“[Try another button.]”

“Whats?” When he got what she wanted, Scree pressed the first lever again. This time, with the helmet hinged open, they could see that something was happening, and Scree immediately recognized it. The helmet gave the monsters something like what he could do naturally with his night-eyes. He laughed.

Scree pressed buttons and looked for reactions in the suit while Ping connected and disconnected cords going to the black box. The little woman even got a pencil and paper from a drawer in the shop and drew diagrams. She crossed and marked and wrote and scribbled with solemn concentration.

There were about ten buttons, and each one brought a different response from the suit. The top of the bulging arm opened up and a strong, two-fingered hand emerged. It could be controlled with a little lever and two buttons. Press the first button again and the hand retracted and disappeared. A bright light lanced away from the shoulder, though Scree couldn’t work out why they’d want that when they had night-eyes. Another button and a strange, harsh voice erupted from the helmet.

Scree wondered whose voice it was but he couldn’t understand it, so he wasn’t really worried.

But when Scree turned off the switch that caused the voices, he could still hear them. He looked around to see if anyone had crept up on him while he was occupied. There was nobody there.

The voices were in his head. In his head.

Scree held his hands to his ears but that couldn’t keep out what was already in.

The strange voices whispered.

He rose to his feet and stormed about the room. He crashed into a wall and the whole building shook with the force of it. He kicked the counter and stomped on the exposed head of the strange monster. But the blow was so weak that Ping didn’t even look away. Scree could see his companion watching with barely concealed horror.

The voices continued to bounce around in Scree’s mind, strange voices he couldn’t understand.

Eventually the fear wore him down. He slumped back to the ground, curling up in a corner with his hands still pressed firmly over his ears. He’d never much liked the idea of magic, but hadn’t often been affected by it as far as he knew.

“Go away,” he said softly. “Leaves me alone.”

But the conversation in is head didn’t falter. So he concentrated inwards and said, like a human child who finds a strange troll standing in the kitchen. “<Who are you?>“

As one, the voices stopped.

Scree sat up, surprised. “<Who are you?>“ he asked again, though he supposed the voices would understand him no more than he understood them.

“<[Inken avad,]>“ one of the voices said.

Scree said nothing.

Another voice in his mind, rough and guttural, but certainly different from the first. “<Acekn jad avenda? Vida?>“

“<[Osuk.]>“

“<[Dosa?]>“

“<[Osuk.]>“

“<[Figi?]>“

“<[Osuk.]>“

Scree knew a roll call when he heard one.

“<[Gizu?]>“

“<[Osuk.]>“

“<[Sada?]>“

There was a silence that stretched on for long moments. To see what would happen, Scree concentrated on the part of his mind where the voices seemed to commune and said, in his best approximation of the monster’s voices, “<Osuk.>“ Just the one word hurt his throat.

The pause stretched on again after that.

“<[Dinjis Sada. Inken avad]>“

The babble of voices erupted again.

Scree sat in the corner, back against the wall, head down. With the strange voices in his head, he couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts flowed along with the words and went nowhere.

Sensing movement in the real world, Scree sprang to his feet, angry that he could be surprised. But it was only Ping, on her hands and knees by his side. She reared back when he moved, fear rearing to life in her eyes, until Scree slid down the wall to the floor again. The tiny woman laid a hand on his arm, but the troll didn’t look up. A moment later the slight pressure was gone and, through the voices in his head, Scree knew the woman was examining the armor once more.

She dragged the bulging arm over to the helmet so she could reach the buttons inside and still see what was going on. She carefully avoided the one that controlled the weapon, though Scree knew, vaguely, that she hadn’t reattached the cords that gave it power.

Scree returned his gaze to the scuffed tips of his boots as the woman worked. The voices in his head babbled meaninglessly. Then, suddenly, they were coming to him from the helmet too as Ping pressed the button that had started it all. He shrank away from the noise, retreating further into the corner, hands held to his head as if that might stop what was already inside him.

But Ping turned off the voices again without even looking his way. Scree continue to watch her for a moment as she pressed the button that turned on the fake night-eyes...

“Wait a minute,” he said. He wasn’t talking to Ping, but the woman looked up all the same. “If they have night-eyes in their helmet like I have night-eyes in my head... and they can turn theirs off, and I can turn mine off... And they have the voices in their helmet and can turn it off...”

Scree dug into the corner of his mind where the voices echoed. He spoke to the voices, to be sure he was in the right place. Then he probed with his consciousness like he did when he used his other ability. At first nothing happened, though he felt it should. Then the voices started to slide away, only to be replaced by a scraping noise, like rock on rock. He concentrated some more, leaning the other way. The voices came back, becoming clearer and clearer until he was sure the monsters must be in his head. He worked on another part of his mind, pushing and nudging until... Silence.

He gave a short bark of laughter. He pushed and the voices returned. He nudged and... gone.

Ping was watching him closely and he smiled for her. “These monsters haves all their machines,” he said, “but I cans do better in my heads.” Nothing the monsters could do with their machines would scare him in the future.

Ping smiled and nodded. He knew she couldn’t understand, but the relief must have been plain in his voice and on his face. Taking a deep breath, he spat on the dead monster in the corner and moved to the woman’s side as she worked on the armor.

A while later, they pushed the armor out of the way and sat examining the tangle of ropes, attaching the arm and helmet to the black box and a small panel that had been on the top of the bulging back.

“Now what?”

Ping ignored him, or simply didn’t react. But after a few heartbeats she collected the troll’s pack and removed the small collection of books, his canteen and flint striker. She started trying to arrange the black box inside. Scree used his knife to cut a hole in the side of the bag so the two wires could go to the arm, and a few minutes later it was ready to go. They had the panel tied to the outside, though why that was important, Scree didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if Ping knew either, but that was the way the monster had organized things so...

Ping examined the books before she started to find places for them in the pack with the box. Scree knew she wouldn’t do a very good job so he took them off her. Before he put them away, he took out The Gates of Hakahei and found the page that Nemucca had shown him with the map of the worlds.

“Those humans with the noisy weapons comes from Atlantis,” the troll said to himself. “And my world was Kiva. So this one has to be...” There were two choices, according to the map. “Harkin?” he said. Ping looked at him, but made no sign of recognition. “Ti...” He struggled over the other strange name. “Tiandi?”

Ping smiled. “Tiandi.”

“Tiandi?” Scree repeated and tried to gesture about at the entire world.

“Tiandi.”

“So, this is Tiandi.” He flipped forward a page and found the place where the locations of the gates were mentioned. Three gates on Tiandi, like there were three gates on most of the worlds. He tapped the floor. “Kansu?”

“[Kansu is that way.]” Ping pointed to the south.

“Shadon?”

She nodded and Scree gave a whoop of delight. “Nows we getting somewheres.” He pointed the direction she had and held up three fingers. “Kansu? Three days?”

“What?” Ping said in the troll’s language, and he smiled.

So he got up and mimed walking, pointing to the south. “How many days to Kansu?”

“[Oh, ten days.]” And she held up the appropriate number of fingers. “Ten.”

“Ten. And what about... Yunnan?”

“Yunnan?” The woman shrugged.

“Shadon. Kansu. Yunnan?”

“[I don’t know of any city called Yunnan.]” Ping shook her head and shrugged again.

“No Yunnan? Probably a ruin likes Salisha. Well then, Kansu it is.”

Ping mimed walking this time. “Kansu?”

“That’s it. South to Kansu.”

Scree carefully repacked his pack then rose to his feet and shrugged his way into the shoulder straps. He set the helmet on his head but it didn’t fit well.

“Do we need this?”

“What?”

He mimed throwing the helmet away. “Do we need this?”

“[Oh. I don’ suppose so.]” She went to the pack, disconnected some ropes and took the helmet away.

With his arm fitted snugly into the sleeve, Scree tested to make sure the weapon still worked. It did. He wasn’t willing to risk everything on it though, so he removed the pack once more and attached his sword to the outside, in case he needed it later.

He checked to see that Ping was ready, looking her up and down.

“We gots to find you some decent clothes. And shoes.” He stepped back out onto the porch at the front of the store.

The day had slipped by them. A burning building lit the street a little farther to the north. Flames danced against the darkness, but other than that, all was quiet. A few scattered stars were visible through the smoke. Scree wished he could see more of them so he could start to get his bearings.

He turned on the voices in his mind. They nattered away, but didn’t give any clues as to what they were planning or where they were or anything at all that might help. He shrugged and started to walk. Ping followed along behind. They kept moving until the moon dipped its head down behind the hills without seeing one building that was undamaged. They didn’t see one living creature. Even the monsters in their bright armor seemed to have drifted away with the smoke. The huge bats were nowhere to be seen. Whether they had moved on to some other city or were spending their time roosting amongst the ruins wasn’t obvious.

The road they followed angled up the side of the bowl shaped valley, moving past houses and shops all mixed in together. Or at least what was left of those things. And everywhere, at least one every block, were strange buildings with large white circles painted behind the glass windows. There were towers with similar stuff.

Scree stopped in front of one of the windows. A large white circle with two black, metal spokes attached to the front. With most, the metal spokes seemed to be stuck in the same place— both almost pointing to the top of the circle.

“What are they?”

“[It is a clock.]”

“They’re everywhere. Why?”

“Why?” She shrugged. “[I don’t know. It’s what we do. It’s what the gods tell us to do.]”

Scree shrugged, shifted his grip in the weapon sleeve and turned back to the street. He was almost too late. A monster stood in the mouth of an alley.

With a shove, he sent Ping tumbling down to street level as he dived the other way. While the woman examined her elbow and the wall smoked from the energy weapon, Scree rolled back to his feet in one fluid motion and fired his own weapon. The beam of lightning struck the monster flush on the side of the helmet.

It didn’t do anything.

Scree kept the weapon trained on the same area as the monster slowly turned to face him. Still nothing happened.

“Useless cat-pissing thing,” he shouted to the weapon. The curses didn’t help.

As the monster was about to face him, the muzzle of the weapon zeroing in, Scree moved. He skirted about the creature, staying low. Once behind it, he fired again, concentrating his fire on the creature’s bulging back. And after just a few seconds the bulge exploded. Fragments of bright armor flew everywhere. Blue and yellow shards struck Scree, but he didn’t care. He kissed the colors of his own weapon and gave a whoop of joy.

“Just gots to shoot thems from behind,” he said as he went to see if Ping was all right. “Just shoots them from behinds.”

13: Challenges

Ping stopped walking. For a few seconds she thought Scree would continue slogging through the rain without her. But the big man stopped and looked back.

“I’ll get sick. Do you understand? If you make me walk all day in this weather, I’ll get sick.”

The big man shrugged as he walked back. “[Don’t understand.]”

“Sick.” Ping feigned sneezing. “We won’t go anywhere for days if I get sick.” He obviously didn’t understand, so she walked to the edge of the road and sat under a tree. It offered some protection from the rain— though not as much as she would’ve liked— and there were no bodies nearby. She shuddered. She’d been stepping around dead zorigami for so long now she hardly noticed any more. She normally waved away the flies and kept walking. It wasn’t something she was proud of. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about at all.

Trying to massage her aching legs, Ping wondered if the big man had taken ‘Ten days’ as a challenge. They’d walked until just after eleven o’clock on the first day, climbing up out of the valley that sheltered the centre of Shadon and then down the other side. To the south, the ruins of the city spread well beyond the hills and they’d not stopped to rest until they were a kilometer clear of the last houses.

The day after that, they walked from dawn until dusk, sometimes trudging along the road, at other times in the trees to the west. Ping thought Scree might have walked through the night as well had it not been for her. She was sure she had blisters the size of eggs on her feet but her companion wouldn’t allow her to remove her scavenged boots. She might have complained, or taken them off to examine her feet when he wasn’t looking. But he never removed his boots either, and seemed to see everything, whether he was looking or not.

“Where are you from?” Ping asked when Scree crouched down by her side.

He didn’t reply. The colored armor on his arm hissed open and he laid it on the ground, flexing his fingers. The splint that covered his other arm was barely holding on. The pain from the break must have been terrible.

“Tell me about where you come from.” She thought he was from a different world, though there was much of Tiandi she knew nothing about— that nobody knew anything about, perhaps. But she doubted his people would hide themselves away, and he had fallen out of the air under the Great Clock. He’d also asked her for the name of the world. “Are you from a different world?” If he was, how did the people there know of Tiandi?

He looked at her but didn’t speak. Ping saw him move the fingers in his right arm and grit his teeth against the pain, so she moved to his side and started to work at the untidy knot that held the splint together.

“[What’s you doing?]”

“I’ll retie this. I might be able to do it tighter with two hands.” Though that was debatable. Possibly the man could have done it tighter with two broken arms, though the pain would have been terrible. Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later she finally got the knot undone and started to unwrap the binding. “What is your world like?”

“[What?]”

“Me,” she paused for a moment to point to herself, then around at the world. “Tiandi. You...” And she shrugged.

“Kiva.”

Ping waited, but for six seconds he said nothing more.

“[A world,]” he added, shrugging.

“So it is like Tiandi? Your world? Kiva?”

He shrugged again.

Ping knew he understood the question— he wasn’t stupid— but simply couldn’t be bothered answering. He saw everything, she already knew, and heard everything, but she doubted he bothered much to express what he knew. He did what he did and worried naught for the rest.

They remained silent while Ping finished the retying of the splint and Scree held the arm in place. It seemed to be setting straight, despite what it had gone through. She smiled slightly when Scree nodded his approval but the big man winced with the pain when he tried to move his fingers.

“[Let’s goes,]” he said. “Kansu.”

“But it’s still raining.” She gestured at the sky and flicked rain from her fingers. They’d been resting for barely twelve minutes.

Scree waved vaguely at the sky himself. “[And monsters still flying. And burning.]”

Ping got the point. She rose to her feet as Scree donned the weapon once more. They set out at a steady pace that Ping knew would tire her before long. She didn’t say anything, merely watched the troll’s heels and tried to keep up.

Kansu had never seemed so far away.

#

Ten days turned into twelve, and Scree wasn’t happy with the delay. Ping could see it in the set of his shoulders. She could hear it in his voice. She had tried, crying herself to sleep at night with the pain. She had risen exhausted each morning and walked without complaint. Well, not much complaint.

She didn’t know why Scree stayed. It had become more obvious as the days passed that he didn’t like her any more than she liked him. He obviously though her weak and soft. She thought him heartless and cold. Perhaps they were both right. But she had stayed, and he had stayed. Ping knew where her chances lay, and perhaps he felt the same way, though she couldn’t imagine how she might help.

Ping didn’t really like the man he was, but she respected him. She watched him walking along ahead of her with an alert calmness that was astounding. He didn’t miss a thing. He seemed tireless, was courageous to a fault and intelligent in a methodical way. But he didn’t suffer people who were not all of those things as well. She tried to keep up. She tried to be thankful with the little food he gave her each night from his pack; he ate no more, though surely he must need it. But it was hard when she was sore to the bones and tired to the soul.

She just wanted to sit for a week and cry.

The city of Kansu, barely a city at all compared to Shadon, spread about the plain where a wide, brown river met the ocean. The monsters were there, though there didn’t seem to be very many of them. The whole place was ablaze.

At the top of a long slope to the north of the city, Ping decided she could go no further. She sank to the ground beside a tree and closed her eyes to cry.

It was all too much.

The monsters. The smoke. The giant bats circling incessantly. The days of walking. The thought that, without Scree, she’d be dead in days, possibly killed by her own people.

They’d seen it in several villages; families at war with each other for the only scraps of food left, attacking anyone who came near. Scree looked competent enough to keep all of them away.

Ping saw Scree stop to look back.

They’d slept longer the previous night, sheltering from the chill of early morning in an abandoned farmhouse that crouched down in a gully by the edge of the road. But she needed more than a few hours of sleep. She needed days. Weeks.

Ping shook her head. She doubted she could walk another step. Her feet didn’t ache any more— she couldn’t feel them at all. She was hungry and tired and there were knots in her hair that she would need scissors to remove. Her clothes... Though she’d collected what she could along the way, her clothes were hardly decent. She knew Scree had noticed that.

So Ping sat under the tree and decided that she wouldn’t go down into the city. Scree could find whatever he was after on his own.

“What are you looking for down there, Scree?” Though the monsters were down there, killing any person who moved, he was just going to march down in to the streets.

“[Whats?]”

She tried to order her thoughts. “Why Kansu?” she said in his language. She’d learned a surprising amount of it in the last few days.

He eyed her suspiciously. “[Another gate,]” he said after a moment.

Apparently she hadn’t learnt that much. “What does mean?”

“[Gate. Doorway.]” He mimed opening a door.

“A door?”

He shrugged.

“Why door want? Many doors Shadon.” There had to be more to it than that but Ping couldn’t think straight.

Scree sighed. “Kiva, Tiandi,” he said. “Tiandi...”

“A door to a new world?” Even the thought of stepping through to another world could not rouse Ping’s interest. She ignored Scree as he tried to coax her into motion. There were still several kilometers to go to the outskirts of the city and that was a few hours of painful walking in her current state.

“[Come on.]” He motioned her forward. “[Rest whens there.]”

“But where are we going? What are you looking for?”

“Whats?”

Ping sighed and repeated the question, as well as she could, in Scree’s language.

“I’m lookings for a big building,” he said.

“A big building?”

“[A church.]”

“No understand.”

He grabbed an imaginary rope and swung it. “Ding dong. Ding dong. “[A church.] Maybes. Something likes that.”

“You want to go to the clock? But you don’t even know what a clock is, do you?”

Well, if he was after the clock, he could see it from where he was. She pointed... But the tower that had once stood on the top of the hill at the center of the city was no longer there.

He grabbed her hand in his and dragged her down the hill towards the city.

A few kilometers to the first building, and then another kilometer beyond that, at least, to the center of town— Ping started to cry again, digging in her heels, little that it did.

She didn’t notice that one of the bats had stopped circling. The first she knew of it was when Scree fired his weapon into the air. It was right there, just fifty meters up. Hurt by Scree’s attack, the creature screeched horribly, banked to the left and dipped towards the ground.

A little over a minute later it had landed and armored figures were climbing from the barrels strapped to its belly. Scree swore and quickened the pace, firing as he went. Ping struggled to keep up now, calling on the last of her strength. When she fell, he dragged her through the grass for four seconds before letting go of her hand and racing forward on his own.

A monster exploded. Two of its fellows were caught in the blast. The troll turned his fire on another as he took cover behind a fallen tree. Ping stayed where she was, hidden by the grass, crying softly, trying to remain unseen.

While she watched, Scree killed half a dozen of the attackers. Another bat came in to land four minutes later and more monsters spilled forth. Scree continued to fire, concentrating on the bulging backs each time. But, even with her amateur’s eye, Ping could see that he’d soon be overwhelmed. She watched as he rose into a crouch, cast a glance in her direction, then shot from cover like a broken watch-spring. He raced through the rain towards Kansu, leaving Ping on her own in the grass.

She wanted to follow him— she would die without him— but could not make her legs obey her commands.

14: Better Offers

When Ping stopped crying, she raised her head and peered through the gently waving grass. No living creature remained close by. The last of the monsters had climbed back onto their bats more than twenty-three minutes ago and left for the sky. Some still lurked down in the city. Fires burned out of control. Zorigami ran as if running would make a difference. Scree was down there somewhere as well, though she didn’t know where. He was probably looking for the clock tower, or the remains of it. Or he’d found another zorigami and was long gone.

Lying in the grass on the side of the hill, Kansu burning below, Ping knew her best chance of survival lay with Scree. Her own people had proven unable to protect themselves at all. She’d seen hardly any dead monsters other than those that Scree was responsible for. She’d seen no bands of resistance. She’d seen no zorigami who looked to be on her side of sanity. And she couldn’t blame them. She’d been with them until Scree brought her back.

He was down in the city looking for a door to another world. Possibly he’d already passed through and was forever out of reach. Even if that were so, there was every chance the other world would be better than Tiandi.

Ping sat up and wiped her eyes. She was caked in mud. Grass clung to her like tassels and ribbons. Her legs still ached. She felt no better now than when she had collapsed an hour and a half earlier. But now she had no choice, and perhaps if she’d been thinking clearly earlier, she would have realized that she didn’t have a choice then either.

With a deep breath, Ping stood and started following a trail as it wound away from the trees and down toward the river. The main road was not a hundred meters to the left, but she assumed Scree knew what he was doing and stayed away.

Limping and crying, Ping neared the first of the buildings two hours and twelve minutes later. She stopped to lean against the side of a small, timber house that had somehow remained intact when all those about it were nothing more than piles of charred wreckage.

She stood and leaned and breathed deeply. She wiped at her face and sniffed. Over all of the other smells, Ping could suddenly, as if it was a normal restday morning at home, smell bread. It made her feel instantly better.

She looked about, trying to locate the scent from heaven, before realizing it could only come from the building behind her. Unable to take her mind off the bread for long enough to check her surroundings, Ping made her way to the front door and peered inside. Of course there was nobody there but, on the kitchen table, where it would have been left to air, sat a plump, golden loaf of bread. Flies had gathered, clustering about it like zorigami around a master clockmaker. Ping leaned against the soot-blackened door for a minute and twenty seconds before hobbling forward to chase the flies and tear into the bread. Had she not been so hungry she might have thought to search the cupboard for jam or butter. But the bread, starting to go stale, was a meal fit for a king.

Hunger satisfied for the first time in days, Ping dropped the last small morsel of crust onto the floor and went in search of a drink. In a small, dark cupboard beneath the stairs, she found a dozen bottles of wine. Some were ten years old, while others came with a vintage of the previous year.

“Is anyone there?” Ping called. Outside fires crackled, and in the distance, other sounds. But inside the house, with the flies gone, all was quiet. “Is anyone there?” When no answer came, Ping selected one of the older wines and uncorked it. “I’m drinking your wine.”

She might have drunk the whole thing, standing there in the hall, but with the wine half gone, Ping again felt the need to find Scree. Every moment she wasted, the troll was getting further away. And every moment he may be moving in a direction she would never be able to follow. With a sigh of regret, Ping decided it was probably best to leave the bottle behind completely. She took one last swig, closing her eyes when the smooth liquid slid down to her stomach, then dropped the bottle and headed for the front door. If nothing else, the wine had lessened the ache of her feet and legs and gave her renewed confidence.

On the steps, Ping paused to examine her surroundings. She had been to Kansu just a few months earlier— sourcing a special part for the clock in Elephant Tower— and visited the clock. Rep’s Register had been near the center of town, to the southeast of her position. With the sinking sun at her back, she set out at a steady-if-somewhat-slow pace.

She could see that Scree had gone before her. Zorigami littered the ground like drifts of autumn leaves. For the most part she tried to ignore the scenes around her, keeping her eyes peeled for movement, for signs of life. They were few and far between.

When she saw a live monster, Ping was so surprised she stood in the middle of the street for five seconds. It didn’t see her though, so when her wine addled senses told her to move, she dashed for the cover of a shadowed doorway and waited for her heart to slow. Her legs were aching again, but she gave them no thought. She leaned slowly towards the corner to peek out. The monster was gone. It had moved on, possibly following some prescribed patrol route.

“I have to be sensible,” Ping said to herself. She admitted that the wine might have gone to her head as well as her legs. She knew Scree had helped her because she could help him. That was the only reason. So, if she wanted his help again, she would have to have something to give in return.

When she peeked out again the monster had returned. It stood, swiveling back and forth, in the middle of the intersection. She leaned back and tried to think.

“So what have I got to offer Scree?” She did not want to think of the way he’d looked at her at night. “I’m smarter than he is.” Though that was debatable, if she was honest. “I can cook. I can watch his back. I can keep guard at night so he can sleep.” But he watched his own back better than she ever could and probably slept with one eye open anyway. Ping didn’t know what she could offer the troll that would be of any use but she decided she’d go and find him anyway and worry about payment when the subject came up.

When she looked, the monster was still there and standing like it was going to be at it for the rest of the day. “The first thing I have to do is start being smart.” She opened the door behind her and slipped into the house.

In the rear courtyard, breakfast had been laid out on a table as if the owners had just gone back inside for the teapot. Ping took some fruit and a slice of buttered bread before moving quickly out through the gate into the lane beyond. There, the fantasy was destroyed. From where she stood she could see five dead zorigami, bodies black with buzzing flies, limbs twisted in the final brief moment of agony. Maybe it was the family whose breakfast she was eating. She choked on the bread and spat it into the road. After standing for a second with her eyes closed, Ping crossed the lane and hurried into the next courtyard.

What was left of the house let out onto a main road. From the fire-blackened porch, Ping could see a pile of bright monster armor at the corner and headed in that direction; Scree had left his mark. She moved towards the middle of town, careful now to avoid detection, pausing in shadows when they were available to rest and examine her surroundings. Always there were the sounds of the monsters nearby, just a street or two away but none ever came close enough to threaten her. She hurried on, trying not to think.

Finally, with the sun long gone below the horizon, she arrived at the top of a low hill. The smoking remains of Rep’s Register made a high mound at the crown. Hardly a thing was left standing, just a single stone arch with a single ribbed column in front. Another column had tumbled to the ground nearby. Ping had seen the arch before, just recently in real life and dozens of times in pictures— she was sure it should have been filled in with a carving-decorated slab of black stone.

Was that Scree’s gateway? Right in the middle of the city all this time?

There were three monsters lying dead on the ground but another had come to replace them, leaning against the column and watching the street.

Ping ducked behind the cover of what had once been a pergola and watched the guard. Torchlight flickered on its blue and white armor. It was badly dented and... She noticed a hole in the dark material of the faceplate. And she had never seen one lean against anything. She dared to stand up and walk slowly forward.

The monster didn’t move.

When she had halved the distance between herself and the arch, creeping forward slowly, Ping could see that the monster was dead. Two of those lying in the street had exploded. Ping looked nervously around, but could see no immediate threat so she mounted the stairs and climbed over the toppled column. Her feet crunched on shards of black stone. The space locked within the arch was painted a faint, shifting, silvery color. She thought she could see something through it but couldn’t be sure. Perhaps a hill? Some trees?

Standing in front of the door, Ping once more wondered what she had to offer Scree. She couldn’t fight the monsters when they had their armor and their weapons. She couldn’t even carry the weapon as Scree could. She...

Ping turned to examine the blue and white armor leaning nearby. She moved close and stood in front of the monster. The armor was much taller than she was but the monsters themselves weren’t all that big at all. “I wonder...” But of course, that left the problem of how to get the armor off the monster without wrecking it. She spun about, found a clock makers shop nearby, as was only to be expected, and hurried through the rubble to the building.

Beyond the facade, the shop had tumbled to the ground but Ping slipped through a narrow gap where a cabinet was holding up the ceiling and poked around in some drawers. It only took her three and a half minutes of searching to find a small leather pouch containing a range of tools. She returned to the monster.

It took almost five and a quarter minutes to get the panel off the top of the bulging back— she counted every second, fearful of being seen. She had to use a small hammer to jamb a screwdriver into the join and lever it up. Then she repeated the process a dozen times until it finally popped free. Once it was done, she removed the top of the black box and used a screwdriver to create a link between the power cable and the one that controlled the opening of the armor. With a hiss of escaping air, the suit split open.

Ping gave a shout of joy before realizing where she was and checking her surroundings. Nobody seemed to have heard. At least, no monsters appeared in the time she watched. So, with a small clap, she moved back to look in the front of the armor. The monster, face ruined and bloody, slouched forward as if ready to fall out at the slightest touch. Cringing, Ping obliged and watched the ugly thing tumble to the ground. Before she had time to give it thought she tied her new tool pouch to her waist and she cleaned thick, dark blood from inside the helmet with a scrap of cloth torn from the alien’s breeches. She climbed inside and arranged herself as comfortably as she could amongst the bumpy padding. She half stood, half sat, her feet resting on pedals nearly twenty centimeters off the ground. There was a metal strap that went over the top. She could barely reach the controls in the hand.

But she could reach. It might work.

“Now or never.” She pressed the appropriate button and held her breath as the suit hissed closed. After a moment, she took a small breath, tasting the air. It was a little stale, slightly strange, but seemed to be fine.

“So, I can get in and out but, unless I ‘m looking for a new home, it’s no good to me if I can’t move it.” The armor looked very heavy, but she suspected some type of machinery was involved in the movement. There was only one way to find out.

“Now...” The suit was still leaning against the arch, so she reached carefully backwards with her right arm and pushed against the stone. The suit straightened. It started to topple forward so Ping instinctively stepped forward to compensate and almost fell anyway. With the weight of the suit around her she reacted savagely and, when mechanical assistance arrived, found she was taking a huge step. With a bit of thought and care she got herself standing upright.

She did a little jump of excitement and the suit didn’t even attempt the movement.

After walking around the top of the hill and testing the various functions of the suit, Ping decided, once again, Now or never.

She turned to face the arch and the silvery air. She took a deep breath and walked slowly through.

It wasn’t like she expected. She felt there should be a thunderclap or fireworks if she’d just stepped onto another world. There was nothing at all, though there was no doubting she was no longer on Tiandi. Or at least no part of Tiandi she’d heard of. Her heart was racing.

A harsh sun beat down on her, though she couldn’t feel it in the suit. She was standing half way up the side of a steep rocky slope. The ‘door’ was just silvery light on a cliff face at her back with a wind-smoothed column on either side. There were freshly broken stones on the ground around her, as if the cliff had recently been remodeled. Left and right, the slope continued, curving slightly as if, out beyond the horizon, the two arms would meet once more to tell their stories. A hundred meters below her, the ground suddenly flattened out. Piles of stone, most higher than five meters, dotted the slope and the grassy plain beyond. There were bats on the ground a few kilometers distant.

And closer, Scree was sheltering near one of the huge cairns. He’d seen her entrance, of course, and watched warily. His weapon was on the ground by his side.

Ping wondered what to do next. She hadn’t considered the fact that the troll’s first instinct would be to kill her. She lowered her left arm slowly, wishing she could wipe the sweat from her face.

Scree rose to his feet.

15: Dry River

Fourteen hours wasn’t the end of it.

“Three minutes until systems are back on line,” Keeble informed them. “Fuel is fine.”

Tuki was staring at the ceiling while he added. Eventually he looked up and spoke. “We are 470,000 kilometers from Kiva. At top speed, that will be just over six and a half hours... Sorry, mo’min, we should be closer.”

Keeble grunted. Another six and a half hours?

It seemed to take a moment for Kim to realize that Tuki was apologizing. “Tuki, you did great. You should be proud you got us so close.”

“Thank you, mo’min.” He didn’t look convinced.

Keeble grunted. “And it will give me a chance to look at the Ohoga engines.”

He started working in the computer and Cuto came to watch over his shoulder.

#

Keeble looked at the planet. It was a colored disk in the centre of the port and, after almost a day and a half with not much at all to look at it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

According to Tuki there were a dozen alien life forms in orbit. Meledrin scanned radio frequencies until their guttural babble erupted from a speaker.

Kim took a deep breath. “Are they talking about us?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Well, tell them we mean them no harm. We wish to land on the planet for a short time and then leave again.”

Meledrin spoke gibberish for a few minutes, seeming to repeat herself several times. She occasionally waved her arms in the strange sign language as well, as if that might help.

“They say they do not trust us. They say that this time we may merely land and then leave again but what of next time?”

“Get Cuto to talk to them.”

“What is it that you wish Cuto to say?”

“He can work it out.”

“Very well. But Cuto is not—” Meledrin fell silent when Kim turned to glare at her.

Cuto spoke for several minutes and Meledrin didn’t bother to translate. Keeble kept one eye on his console and the other on the planet outside.

“I do not think it is working,” the elf eventually said. “Cuto is not trusted.”

“Just get Cuto to keep talking. Hopefully that will distract them a bit while we get closer. Does anyone happen to know the best angle for re-entry?”

Keeble had no idea. It probably wouldn’t even say in the computers.

“No? Well, we will just have to go straight down then, I suppose, as slow as the aliens will allow.” Kim took a deep breath. “Tuki, where’s your village?”

The moai spent some time examining his displays. “It must be around the far side, mo’min.”

“Right. Tell me when we’re over the top of it.” Kim changed the angle of the Hakahei’s movement to take them around the back before they reached the orbiting kil’ini. The aliens remained watchful but didn’t attack.

“We are close, mo’min. I cannot tell exactly.”

Kim spun the ship so the bridge was facing away from the world and started almost directly towards it. Soon, it would be down. There were hardly any aliens at all in the area, but they were coming quickly.

In the end, re-entry wasn’t all that hard, as far as Keeble could tell. Kim slowed the ship as much as she dared with the aliens approaching and kept them heading straight down.

Tuki used the skyglass to fill the viewing well with an image of the world below.

Keeble didn’t know how far up they were, though it seemed to be a long way, but desert stretched across most of the enormous continent below. There was green to the north and west, distilled through the wide reaching smoke of war, but in every other direction...

A ribbon of green divided the desert in two ragged, uneven parts.

“That is Dry River, mo’min. You can see where it curves south at the hills... Danyon Ford is three hundred and twenty five kilometers this side of that point.”

“Hokey-dokey then.”

When they got closer Keeble discovered that Dry River was just that, a riverbed that no longer held water between its banks. Instead it contained vegetation— trees and shrubs attracted by the ground water and given their one chance at life in the desert. When they were closer still, smoke was visible as well. It was not the smoke of war, though. It was the smoke of life.

“We’ll slow down a bit and give them a chance to think.”

“Do we want them to think?” Meledrin asked, squinting at the image in the well.

“Yes.”

Tuki adjusted the view, focusing on the village and making it larger.

At that point Dry River ran more or less east-west. The village, Danyon Ford, sat close to the northern bank with a scattering of small buildings to the north of a shin high stone wall. A handful of older women were gathered there, watching the sky. To the south of the wall a few larger buildings were centered on a square. The square was full of young women and girls who’d all stopped their work to watch the sky. Men were streaming in from surrounding vegetable patches and work sites.

“I think they’re thinking,” Keeble said.

The ground seemed to be coming up very quick. Keeble wondered if Kim had any idea what she was doing. It was a bit late to be asking that now though. He gritted his teeth and wondered if there was anything he could do to help. He almost laughed at that. He really didn’t know anything more than she did. He was in deep water and struggling to keep his head dry but he wasn’t going to let anyone else know that if he could help it.

He saw Kim grimace as she slowed the ship and thumped it down onto the ground amidst a storm of sand. They were about fifty meters from the river.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“Everyone?” Keeble asked. He didn’t think it was a good idea to leave the ship unattended, even if the locals were unlikely to do any damage in the also unlikely event they got inside.

Kim hesitated and shook her head. “No. You and Cuto stay here to keep an eye on things. And think of something dramatic you can do in case it’s needed.”

“Dramatic? In case it’s needed?”

“Yes. I’m going to be telling them I’m their goddess, remember. They might need convincing.”

“Right, easy.” He shook his head but didn’t say anything else as the two women left the bridge with Tuki slinking along behind, looking remarkably small for someone his size.

While he waited, Keeble tried to think of something dramatic and godlike. He assumed that was what Kim had meant. There was probably a speaker outside. He could just turn that up to full volume and shout at the moai. Or, if he knew how to use some of the weapons he could blow up a tree or something, although that sounded a bit risky. It annoyed him that Kim, a woman, was in charge, but he didn’t like his chances of surviving long if he landed a tree on her head. She might not know much but she was in the habit of making good guesses.

A crowd of moai, led by a relatively small woman that was still taller than Meledrin, waited in the sun at the edge of the river. The woman out front looked calm, the rest looked as if they wanted to be somewhere else.

“Can you hear me, Keeble?”

He looked around for the intercom. There would be one at his console somewhere. He eventually found something that looked about right and hit the button. “Of course I can. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

“Because I found some things before that I thought were radios, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Right, well yes, I can hear you. What’s happening?”

“I’m just trying to work out how to fly one of these Lander things. Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything interesting. And don’t get distracted by anything.”

“Why would I get distracted? I’ve got a job to do.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“I just told you—”

“Yes, but I didn’t say the bit about distractions out loud. I just thought it.”

“Well, keep your thoughts to yourself.” It wasn’t until he spoke that Keeble realized what Kim had actually said.

“I’ll try. Let us know if you see anything, remember.”

“You spoke in your mind and my radio heard it?”

“Apparently. Now keep an eye out.”

Keeble didn’t like being treated like and apprentice. “I’ll do my job, you do yours.”

He thought about going to Tuki’s chair to adjust the cameras but Cuto could probably do that as well as he. So with a lot of arm waving and frustration he eventually got the alien to understand. A few minutes later it was playing with the controls, trying to get them working. Finally, the image in the well showed a group of moai women, all huge like Tuki, standing close together as if that alone might protect them from attack if that was what was to come. Other women were standing nearer the bank of Dry River. They all looked extremely nervous.

The only men in evidence were hiding amongst the trees.

Kim didn’t sound all that confident herself. Her muttering and cursing came over the radio as she tried to work out how to fly the Lander.

A few minutes later the little craft moved into the camera’s range. It wobbled, dipped, lifted slightly, then settled. “Much more touchy than the ship on earth.”

“I wonder what the moai would think if their goddess crashed at their feet,” Keeble said. Cuto looked at him and he tried to say it again in the sign language. Either he didn’t get it right or the alien had no sense of humor, for Cuto just stared blankly for a moment then turned back to the task it had been assigned.

The Lander slowly drifted to the ground and touched down with a slight thump and a spray of sand. Keeble let out his breath, slightly disappointed.

“Right,” Kim said. “Let’s do this. Meledrin, you first. We need to hit them with a woman straight away. Tuki, you next... Ummm... A couple of steps behind. Carry the skyglass in front of you. Don’t bow your head or anything like that. Look confident and proud. You’re a servant, but an honored one. Right?”

“Yes, mo’min.”

Apparently Tuki had a radio as well. That probably meant Meledrin did, too. Keeble was surprised he hadn’t heard her offering all sorts of instructions for the last ten minutes.

“You can’t call me that, Tuki. The mo’min’s out there, remember. I’m better than that. I’m Poti.”

“Yes... mo’ma.”

“Right. Whatever. I’ll wait a few seconds then come out as well. I’ll speak English at first. Mel, you translate.”

There was a moment of silence.

“How do you do that?”

Another silence.

“Talk so it doesn’t come over the radio. I only just realized you were doing it.”

Pause.

“Well, you could have let me know before. But talk so Keeble can hear you anyway— he needs to know what’s going on.”

“Very well, though I don’t know what difference it will make. Do you really think it is wise for you to speak a different language? You are their goddess...”

“Yes, I know, but I don’t want to be too familiar at first. I’ll speak properly later.”

“Very well.”

“Let’s go then.”

When the holy party moved out into the sunlight, Keeble thought he saw Meledrin wilt under the ferocity of it. If anything, Tuki seemed to welcome it, and Kim looked like she didn’t care at all. Keeble had never been in a real desert but he’d heard dwarves describe it like standing in front of a furnace. The effort of appearing unaffected by the heat must have been difficult for Kim. Keeble grunted and turned his attention back to the engineering computers— there were some things that only a man could do.

16: Untold Landscapes

Scree rose slowly to his feet, never taking his eyes off the monster. He threw the remains of the disgusting fruit he was eating onto the ground and wiped the juice from his fingers.

The weapon was on the ground. He could get to it before the monster could do him any damage, but last time he’d tried the weapon it hadn’t worked. The monster wasn’t attacking anyway. It was standing there, both arms pointing at the ground. Just when Scree decided to make the first move, the armor gave a hiss of releasing air and started to crack open.

That a good things? Scree wondered as the panels hinged aside.

About the last thing he expected was to see Ping climbing free of the strange contours of the internal padding.

“Hello, Scree.”

Scree grunted and gave a slight smile. He’d taken a weapon from a monster, but hadn’t even considered the idea of going further. Not that he would have fitted himself.

“Not bad,” he said, going to look into the suit, as if it might somehow be different to the one he’d already seen.

Ping ignored him, fiddling with the faceplate, plucking out shards of broken glass.

She was still working, wiggling pieces loose, when Scree went back and sat down behind the pile of rocks. He wasn’t sure if Ping had noticed, but about a kilometer away, down on the floor of the valley, there were at least half a dozen of the giant bats, towering over the few pathetic trees amongst the spiky blue-green grass. He could only assume there were monsters with them and that they’d kill any person they happened to see— troll, zorigami or whatever else.

That just left the question of why they were there, with no city or town in sight and, if Ping got behind cover, no people in sight either.

Scree picked up ‘The Gates of Hakahei’ and resumed reading. It was a long, slow process.

Ping finally gave up her inspection and moved the armor, hissing and clanking, down into the shade. Scree watched her clump over bushes and grass tussocks like they weren’t there. She left a path like a landslide.

When she was back out in the daylight again she crouched down by Scree’s side.

“[Where are we?]” she asked. “Where?”

Scree looked at her and then at the suit of armor. “The gate from Kansu leads to a world called... Nexis.”

“Nexis?”

“Yep. And this map thing says thats there are five other gates on this worlds.” He didn’t know how much she understood, though she seemed to be learning the language quickly enough.

He tried to think and thankfully Ping remained silent.

“It mights be impossible to finds any other gates, no matter how manys there is.”

“Found others.”

“Yeah, but I had locals to help.”

“Find people here.”

Scree shook his head. “Have you evens looked at this place? Or did youse just march onto a new world to shows off your new armor?”

The woman did look around then, even rising to her feet as if that might make a difference.

“There’s bats out theres in the valley. There’s scrub grass in the valley. And arounds the edge, over the tops of that hill, there’s forest that I reckon a burning cat couldn’t find a way through.” He had heard animals in there though— lots of them— he just hadn’t found a way of moving more than a few meters down the slope. He’d used his sword to hack his way into the scrub but it just seemed to get thicker the further he went.

“Yes, but...”

Scree sighed and went back to reading his book. He was struggling over each of the words, but knew that the only hope lay somewhere among them.

He read more than an entire, head-pounding page, before he found what he needed.

“‘There are six Ohoga Gates on the world of Nexis,’“ Scree read, “‘and unlike the gates of other worlds, they seem to be located with some sort of thought in the mind of whichever god was in charge. The gates all lie with in the boundaries of Tiringil, a large, circular valley almost fifty kilometers across.’“

Scree laughed. He’d narrowed down the search already. He was within fifty kilometers of all the gates on the world— surely he could find one of them. But... he thought about the area he’d have to cover. It was a lot of area, even without being able to do the math, but he figured he’d start by going around the edge of the valley and worry about more after that.

Ping was watching him, sitting silently with her back against the pile of rocks that may once have been a building— a tower, perhaps. Though if that was the case then why there was no sign of outbuildings, and why it had collapsed inwards was beyond understanding.

“All the gates is somewhere in this valley,” Scree said.

“Why looked another world? What wrong this?” Ping fumble through in Scree’s language.

“You stills haven’t looked?” Neither the monsters nor the landscape bothered him in the short term. They hadn’t really bothered him on the other worlds either, really. But he figured that if he couldn’t find a place without them, he’d have to kill them. He could keep killing them one at a time, but they’d probably get him eventually. So he needed help. Nobody he’d met so far was going to help, although if Ping could use the armor...

Those Ravens would be able to help, he decided. But when he’d met them he hadn’t known he needed a new pack. And after he fell out of the sky into Ping’s world there was no going back.

So he’d find more worlds, and maybe the people who built the star-ships would be on one of them.

Scree looked up at the searing blue of the sky wondering what other worlds were out there. Was each star of the night sky a world? Or perhaps they were suns circled by any number of worlds.

“Let’s go then, if youse coming.”

“You going let me come?”

“You knows how to use that suit?”

Ping nodded but didn’t look sure.

“There are enough bats down in the valley to bring a lots of monsters. Too many. Just remembers, you have to shoot the back pack things to make the monsters explode.”

“What?” Ping was staring to understand so much that Scree was surprised when she didn’t understand.

He got his weapon onto his arm, then went and pointed it at the armor’s back. “Kaboom.” Then he pointed it at the front and shook his head. “Nothing.”

She didn’t sound very confident, but there was nothing Scree could do about that. He’d just hope she did whatever needed to be done. If she didn’t, she was no use to him at all. “You just listen to me and do what I say without complaining and without asking questions and I’ll try to keep us both alive.”

“Yes.”

“Right, let’s go. Leave the armor for now.”

“But...”

“That’s a question.”

Ping nodded. “Where we go?”

“We’s got to go back to get another weapon. This one don’t work any more.”

He would’ve done it himself before coming through the gate but he didn’t understand half of what Ping had done.

When Scree returned to the strange desolate world a while later with the new weapon on his arm he looked in one direction, then the other. In the distance, barely visibly through the heat haze, there seemed to be a mountain. That was the only difference he could see that was worth noting, and that was as good a reason as anything else.

“What now?” Ping asked.

Scree went to her armor, turned on the ‘voices button’ and changed one of the settings. He turned the knob that... well, he didn’t know exactly what it did. But if the voices of the monsters were in the basement of his mind, he changed the setting so Ping would be in the attic.

“This way.”

“What about bats?”

“How long does you wants to sit there? And there’s trees up here anyways. Half a kilometer and we’lls be under cover.” He looked at her and realized she hadn’t understood. He pointed to the trees. She seemed to get the point and rushed to get into her armor.

When the suit hissed shut, Scree started talking and nudged the buttons in his mind. Eventually, he heard a surprised response from his companion.

“<Scree?>“

<Yeps.> He was pretty sure nobody else could hear them.

“<How?>“

Scree shrugged. <Come on.>

Scree wondered if the valley had ever been much different to its present state. Rocks and gravel littered the ground for the most part. Tough, twisted bushes clung to the hard, dry soil between and up ahead, trees had managed to find a foothold. Unlike with Salisha, there was nothing to show that a city might once have thrived here. The strange piles of stone probably hadn’t been buildings— where they’d come from was anybody’s guess. Out on the valley floor nothing was any different. Gravel, rocks, scrub, and dark, crooked trees. It all might have been there for millennia.

Scree strode across the slope and Ping, a slight tilt giving her a limp, struggled to keep up.

“Hows you learn my language?” Scree asked her, speaking out loud to fill the silence, though it was his mind she would hear.

No animals added background noise to the day. Not even a breeze to scrape at the vegetation and stir the dust into whispering life.

“<Don’t know. Just seem... right. Had friend spoke another language I never learn.>“

He didn’t understand much of what she was saying— she probably didn’t know the proper words so she just used her own— but he could understand enough to work out what she meant. “I heard lots a languages. Never learned none of thems.” He gave a grunt of laughter. “Suppose I never spent much time listening though.” Ping probably wouldn’t find that funny at all if she gave it some thought.

“<Well, I listen you and...>“

So Scree continued to talk. He didn’t say anything important. He didn’t talk about himself. He spoke of the places he’d seen in his travels. Cities and deserts. Mountains and oceans. Untold landscapes, and none of them had resembled the valley he now found himself in.

When they reached the trees, the thin shade offered was a small respite from the sun. Scree still saw no animals, though this was where they should be, if anywhere. He’d have loved to squash a little stinging bug, just to know there was some life about, other than he and Ping and their enemies out on the plain. The ground between the trees was bare and hard, but there were no paths. Nothing to say they were heading in the right direction, or in any significant direction at all.

The slope continued to curve eastwards. The hills steadily grew upwards to meet the mountain. Forty kilometers, he guessed. A lifetime at Ping’s pace. So he trudged and he talked, and the one was as tedious as the other.

Well before noon the talking and the slow pace became too much. Scree grunted in disgust. “Keeps going this way,” he said. “Calls if you see anything strange.”

Ping protested, saying it’d be safer if they stayed together. He ignored her. Probably would be safer for her, but not for him, he guessed.

<I could a beens there by now.> Though that was far from true.

He’d been talking out loud for so long that he’d forgotten Ping was in his mind, listening to his thoughts if he didn’t guard them.

The zorigami mumbled an apology. “<Going fast as can. I leave the suit behind if want.>“

But Scree knew she wouldn’t leave the armor behind. And at this stage he wouldn’t ask her to. He swore to himself, making sure it stayed private this time, and surged away.

<Just keep going this way. I won’t be far.> He didn’t think there’d be much point in going too far, not unless he intended to continue on his own. He’d only have to come back for Ping, and he doubted there was much to see beyond what he’d already seen.

Might finds a cat I can stomps on. But if there were no bugs to torture, he had slim hope of finding a cat.

17: The Same World

Ping paused halfway up the slope, sweating in the confines of the armor. Four full days in there and she was starting to forget what fresh air tasted like. Her hips ached, her bones rattled with every step.

Scree was out of sight, around the corner of the pile of rocks and probably already settled into that half-conscious state he called sleeping. The moon had risen hours ago, but he had insisted on continuing in darkness.

Ping twiddled with the control on the armor’s voice throwing unit and listened as Scree told her that he had indeed decided to stop for the night. The troll had been talking almost constantly since turning on the voice machine, using gestures to help make things understood. Now, the two of them could hold sensible conversations on almost any subject, though she doubted it sounded pretty.

At the top of the slope Ping paused again before carefully making her way to the leeward side of the rocks. With a sigh of relief she opened the suit and stepped out into the cool night breeze.

“How much food we have?” she asked.

“Some.” Scree was already hunting through his pack. After four seconds he produced a hunk of meat rolled in drying leaves and threw it down on the ground for Ping to get when she was ready. He also found a piece of yellow fruit and offered it in the same manner.

“Is meat still right?”

“Don’t knows. But it can’t be any worse than the fruits.”

“I still think fruit be poisonous.” They’d found the fruit the day before, growing on a ground-hugging bush along the edges of a shallow stream. The water in the stream had been salty and brackish, and had only gotten worse after a day in the troll’s canteen. The fruit was tart and mushy.

“It ain’t poisoned.”

“How know?”

“It ain’t. Horrible don’t means bad.” Scree bit into some fruit, through the leathery skin and into the juicy centre. By the way he acted, it might almost have been his food of choice. And, as with so many other times, he seemed to read Ping’s thoughts. “You gots to eat any food you can gets, Ping. Yeah, this stuffs is horrible, but it might be better than what you gets tomorrow.”

Ping finished her nightly stretch and lowered herself gingerly to the ground. She took up the fruit and, closing her eyes, took a timid bite from the skin. Normally, she would not have gone past the first bite on the first occasion she had tried the fruit, but she trusted Scree more than she had ever trusted another person in her life. And that was the strangest thing of all.

Long ago Ping came to the opinion that her companion was a thief and a murderer and lacked almost any moral graces. He would have sold his own mother if he thought there was some advantage to be gained. But, since he didn’t care what anyone else thought of him, since he was almost completely fearless, since he felt that he had nothing to lose, the troll was completely honest.

Above all else, Ping considered herself to be a clockmaker. In her heart, in her soul, that was her life. In his soul Scree was a survivor. So, though he might sell his mother for an apple, he would not sell her for an orchard, because an orchard was worthless to him.

But she remembered him once saying that he’d never known his mother.

Ping discovered that she’d finished her piece of fruit and almost wished for some more. The meat Scree had given to her would not go close to filling the hole that was left in her stomach.

“Do know what look for?” she asked.

Scree didn’t answer straight away. Ping saw him watching as she unwrapped her meat. She had seen that look before. She started to tear away little morsels, fingers shaking, suddenly not hungry at all. But she continued to eat, for she did not know what she would get tomorrow.

The suit of monster armor had kept Scree by her side, for she could be useful, but those thoughts were starting to fade. The monsters’ bats had circled over the center of the valley since they’d crossed from Tiandi, occasionally settled in groups out on the valley floor. But they never came within a couple of kilometers of Ping and Scree, so all Ping and her armor did now was slow him down.

“I’ve got no ideas what I’m looking for,” he said eventually. “But I’ll know it whens I see it. You probably wills too.” Scree leaned back against the rocks, his splinted arm resting on his lap, and closed his eyes. “Your watch first. I need to get some real sleep.” And with that, he fell asleep.

Ping watched her companion. His breathing was even, his face relaxed. She had never seen him completely at rest before, but decided that if she were to whisper the words ‘look out’ he would be awake in an instant. There were no grey areas in the troll’s life. Black or white or not worth seeing.

For a moment, Ping thought of finding a comfortable spot on the ground, but was worried she’d fall asleep as quickly as her companion. And the change in the rhythm of her breathing was likely to wake him. So instead she carefully climbed the side of the rock pile. Near the top, she stopped and found a smooth seat from where she could look out over the valley, but would not be silhouetted against the strange stars.

She could see nothing. She could hear nothing beyond the moaning of the wind.

She was still sitting in that spot watching the night when Scree rose several hours later and stretched his broad, bare shoulders.

“Sleep nows. I’ll watch.”

But as Ping climbed down from her eyrie Scree sank to the ground and fell back to sleep in an instant. She settled down not far from him and prepared to watch the coming of he dawn.

#

Ping woke with a start, as was usual these days, and stretched, moving slightly as she became acutely aware of her uncomfortable position. With a grunt of effort, she sat up, shading her eyes against the early morning sun. Then she remained still for a moment, clinging to the edge of her sleep, before climbing to her feet.

Scree was not where she’d last seen him, and for a moment she panicked. But a quick survey of the area found him crouching on top of the rocks, monster gun in hand.

Ping opened her mouth to call to him. Before she could draw breath, Scree raised his weapon, suddenly tense. He swore and rose to his feet. His shoulder bucked as the weapon let out a long stream of crackling energy.

On the edge of decision, Ping did not move. She stood silently, looking at her companion as he cursed and fired his weapon. Then, making up her mind, she headed for her armor. In moments she was in and stumping around to get the view she desired.

When Ping finally saw what the troll was firing at she froze again. A huge black bat had alighted on the ground not far away and armored monsters were stepping down from the outer two of the three metal canisters. Scree’s concern stemmed from the fact that he could not easily take aim at his enemies’ bulging backs. He fired maniacally, to little effect. Slowly, more monsters were coming into view, making their way towards the rocks, raising weapons as they went.

Ping looked at her own left arm, but she was hardly in a better position than Scree was and...

“Well, I had better move then.” She didn’t know if she meant it until she took the first step.

Ping turned and started to make her way around the front of the bat, keeping her distance as much as the terrain and her urgency allowed. The great beast watched her with a huge, dark eye, but made no threatening movement.

It seemed to be a lifetime before Ping found herself in a position that allowed her to fire upon the enemies’ backs, but not many more of them had descended to the ground. All of those that were outside were firing towards the top of the boulders. Some were making their way carefully around to the high side to get a better view. It would not be long. While he was being fired upon, all Scree could do was hide.

Biting her lip, Ping raised her arm and pointed towards the back of the nearest monster. She took a deep breath and pressed the button to work the weapon. The suit jolted slightly with the power and her aim went awry. It took a few seconds to concentrate her shot in the right place and long agonizing seconds after that before the suit erupted into flames.

With a short laugh of triumph, Ping quickly turned to attack another enemy. She shouted again as the second went up. It was not until she was attacking the third, and the others were turning in her direction, that she realized she was crying. She did not cheer any more. She bit her lip and tried to keep her concentration.

On the top of the rock pile, Scree surged into view the moment the monsters turned their backs to him, firing with cold, deadly accuracy. Ping turned her attention to the monsters still making their way toward the top of the slope while the troll picked off those heading for her. The monsters’ arms were raised and the bolts of energy sizzled through the air. Ping flinched as the first attacks rocked her backwards but, like her enemies, she was safe as long as she faced the threat head on. She just hoped that Scree could kill them before they came too close. She took a few steps back.

Tears streaming down her face, lip bleeding, Ping finished off the last of the monsters moving to attack her companion and turned her weapon against those that were still making their way down to the ground. She hoped not many more of the monsters were inside the canisters.

Some of her attackers realized they were being attacked from behind and turned. Ping brought them down before they could raise their weapons high enough to attack Scree in his unprotected position.

The monsters did not stand a chance.

When finally the last of them was dead and the bat had surged back into the air with a storm of wings, Ping lowered her arm and stayed where she was. On the rock pile, Scree gave a whoop of joy and brandished his weapon in the air. His voice crackled in her ear. Ping didn’t really listen to what he said, but she got the point.

After a few minutes, Scree rushed down from the rocks. He stalked around, grunting and shouting at the morning sky.

Eventually Ping started to feel some of his pleasure as well. She had finally struck back at the monsters herself. They had killed her friends and countrymen while she’d watched. Without a large amount of luck she would have been amongst the dead herself. Now she had shown them that the zorigami were not all going to wait to die. She tried a small smile, but tears still welled in her eyes.

She pushed the button to open the suit and stepped out into the morning. After the confines of the armor the sun and warm breeze were a welcome reprieve.

Scree rushed towards her, talking quickly. A few meters away he stopped and stared.

For the first time Ping noticed that her clothes were soaked with sweat, clinging to her body. Scree had noticed. That was obvious enough.

Suddenly, Ping was afraid. The way the troll was looking at her. His face was flushed, possibly from the excitement of the fight, possibly not. His breathing was still erratic. The armored arm hissed and he tossed it away as he shrugged out of his pack.

Ping took a step backwards, shaking. The suit was not far away. She turned and ran. She only had to take three steps but they seemed to take a lifetime. She could hear Scree behind her.

With a sob of fear she almost threw herself into the armor. She flicked the switch that closed the panels. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

The troll reached the suit before it closed, but even with his strength he could do nothing to stop it.

Ping stared into his wild eyes as he wrenched at the slowly closing panels.

The troll had to snatch his fingers away at the last moment lest they be crushed. He glanced around and quickly went to collect his sword. Ping took an involuntary step back.

“You knows that armor can’t stop me.”

Ping nodded weakly. “But you’re supposed to protect me,” Ping said, watching Scree through the broken faceplate.

“Who says?” he growled in reply. He was staring at her, teeth grinding, hand flexing on the hilt of the sword. “Nobody ever said that.”

“It’s the way it works, Scree.” She wanted to wipe the sweat and tears from her face but could not do so in the armor. She worried about accidentally pressing buttons with her shaking hands. “I do things for you and you do things for me.”

“Maybe that’s how it works in your world, but not in mine.”

“But we’re in the same world, Scree. I help you and you help me. That’s the deal.”

Then again, she realized, he had protected her for a long time and what had she done for him in return? She’d slowed him down and eaten his food. He would have found the next door by now if he’d been on his own. He would’ve been sitting on a new world with fresh fruit and clean water.

I should have splinted his arm properly. I should have cooked his meat. I should have made myself useful.

As Ping watched, holding her breath, she saw the fire receding from his eyes. She licked her lips as the point of the troll’s sword lowered. He muttered something about a deal. Then he snatched up his pack and his monster gun and strode away along the side of the hill.

Ping stayed where she was, breathing deeply and wondering what to do. She was crying harder than ever. She couldn’t stop.

18: Different Types

Scree examined the doors.

Well, I think it’s doors, he said to himself. Two big, shining pieces of metal were set upright in the side of the mountain. They fitted together perfectly, with no chance of getting even the sharpest dagger into the crack between. There were no hinges or handles to be seen either.

Buildings had filled the small expanse of land out the front at some stage, though all but a few faint signs were long gone. Scree kept going along the side of the mountain for a hundred meters to see if there was anything else to see. He found nothing and went back to the door, going to the metal to have another look. He saw nothing he hadn’t seen the first time.

No idea hows to open the things.

He examined the stone around the door, wondering if he could break it. But the surface was almost as smooth as the metal. It wasn’t about to fall apart without more of an argument than he could offer.

Scree sat down in the shade. He put his weapon and pack on the ground by his side and took off his boots for the first time in weeks. As expected, his feet were swollen and he’d have trouble getting the boots back on, but the warm air against his toes felt good. He massaged his ankles and the soles of his feet to get the blood moving freely. It hurt like hell and he smiled.

When he could feel nothing more than a tingle in his toes, Scree climbed the cliff to the side of the door. The splint on his arm slowed him down. The break seemed to be healing cleanly, though the arm ached, so he pulled the material and wood away as he went.

Five meters up, the ground leveled out and offered a view back out across the valley. The bats had long ago moved on, flying with their masters out over the wilds beyond the valley walls. Scree had attempted a similar sortie himself, and wasn’t about to try it again any time soon.

Scree made his way deeper into the mountains. He wasn’t sure what he might find, but he was willing to look for as long as was needed. The ground was nice and hot under his bare feet, the sun warm overhead, and he was back in the mountains. It almost felt like he was back at home. He wished he’d brought his horrible bone flute so he could dance trollish tunes in the air of the strange world. A worn trail snaked between natural walls. For a while the walls were waist high, but started to grow until the sun was blocked out and he could see nothing more than the trail, the stone and a narrow strip of pale sky. He trotted along for a couple of minutes before the pathway ended at the base of another cliff. He was about to head back the way he’d come but decided the wall would be easy enough to climb. He found some handholds and hauled himself upwards.

Another five meters up Scree found a metal grate. He stared. Eventually, steadying himself as best he could, he gripped the grate and pulled. It came away easily, the screws holding it in place having rusted away to nothing long ago. The grate itself still shone like it was brand new: the same as the door down below, and the same as the sides of the tunnel behind the grate.

But Scree would never fit inside. Who ever had used this passageway was tiny, or could fold themselves into very strange shapes.

Ping would fit, Scree thought. She could shimmy down there like a rat down a drainpipe. But the little woman was hardly likely to help him. She might shoot him on sight.

He climbed some more. The cliff kept going up a long way but the canyon walls ended. Scree stepped onto flat ground and walked, one hand running across the stone. Half a kilometer around the side of the mountain he found another hole exactly like the first. It was half way up a cliff, covered with a grille that fell off in his hands, and too small.

Scree hung on the side of the mountain for a long time before starting to retrace his steps. He wondered where Ping was, and if she really would shoot him. If she didn’t shoot him, would she help, or did she just want to go home? He wondered if it was even worth the effort of going to ask.

“Gots no choice,” he said when he had finally climbed back down to stand in front of the original door.

His pack and weapon were where he had left them. His whole life was sitting on the ground there for anyone to come and take. He swore, though he was pretty sure he was the only thief around. He checked to make sure everything was in his pack. He straightened out the books and the black weapon box then shrugged into the pack and inserted his arm into the weapon. Then, carrying his boots, he made his way back to where he’d left Ping.

#

Scree saw Ping sitting on the ground near her suit of armor. He could have snuck up on her easy enough but decided not to. He stopped where he was and waited until she spotted him. She climbed quickly into the armor and closed the panels as he went closer. The woman raised her weapon.

“Stinking cats.”

Scree thought of returning to the door in the side of the mountain to see if he could find some other way of getting past. But before he’d even completed the thought he knew it would be pointless. The door would never budge if it was locked. He didn’t know if unlocking the door would be possible, inside or out, but it was the only chance. There might be other doors, but they’d probably all be the same.

That left the little tunnels. And Ping.

Scree kept walking, slow and steady. He kept his weapon pointing at the ground. He stopped and sat on a rock when he was five meters away. He didn’t say anything. Ping remained silent as well.

Shadows lengthened. The day crawled across the valley, settling towards night.

Scree knew about apologies, but he’d never needed to try one out for himself. He didn’t think one would be a whole heap of use now either.

Night descended. In the darkness they continued to watch.

Hours later, with the strange moons high overhead, Scree wondered if all the silence was really a good idea. It didn’t worry him, but he didn’t think it would be helping.

Ping was watching warily through the broken faceplate of the helmet

Scree opened his pack and pulled forth his crappy bone flute. He doubted it would ever play a proper note in its life, but the sounds it made were still recognizably music and had to help. Scree knew it would make him feel better anyway. He had no idea how Ping would react.

And she didn’t reacted at all.

Scree danced merry tunes all through the night, hardly stopping between. Ping was still awake and watching when the sun peeked over the horizon and he finally lowered his flute and took a deep breath. “It’s strange, you knows, but I’ve never really needed help. I mean, yeah, sure, there were times whens a bit of help made things easier, but I didn’t needs it. Because the only helps I’ve ever been offered was with things I cans already do myself.” Except the monk. There was always the monk.

Scree examined the valley to see if any of the bats had come back during the night. A few kilometers away, settled into a tight group, were half a dozen of the creatures.

“You knows, other trolls came along and helped me bash things and break things and kill things. But, really, I could’ve dones all that on me own. You see what I means?”

Ping still didn’t react.

“Being big was never a problems before. Being big was always a good thing.”

Ping watched silently.

“Burning kittens, woman, how was I supposed to know I was going to need your help?”

That was the whole problem, Scree realized. He didn’t know anything any more. Back on Kiva he could do what he wanted, because there was nothing else to do. If he killed one human then... Well, who cared? If he killed a troll, there’d be another to take his place. So he did what the moment needed and worried about the next moment when it arrived. And in most cases it was pretty similar to the one just gone.

Scree looked around. The bats, the circular valley, and the large, hot sun. Not far away was the door into the mountain. How was he supposed to tell what was going to happen next? He surged to his feet and, taking his knife from his pack, headed up out of the valley to find some food. Ping swiveled to watch him go.

Hows am I supposed to knows? Scree stalked along the edge of the trees a few minutes later. Do I have to keeps everything that might ever be useful? Do I have to collect peoples that mights be useful? He laughed a moment, before suddenly falling silent.

Wasn’t that what humans did? Collected people and things that might be useful? They ended up with a house to keep all their useful things and a town to keep all their useful people. Scree swore and dived into the bushes after a thing that looked a bit like a rabbit. He missed and swore again.

“Cat piss.”

He was scratched and bleeding but hardly noticed.

#

“I gots to wonder whys these monsters is here, you know. I means, there ain’t nothing here that I can tell. They just hangs around out there in the middle of the valley and... I don’t knows what they does, really. And you’d think seeing as we seems to be the only peoples around here, that theys would notice whens a whole bat-load of guys go missing. With just some rabbits and insects, it ain’t likely they was attacked by wild animals.” He spat. “Theys terrible soldiers. Don’t seem to have any ideas at all, really.”

The monsters still milled about a few kilometers away, not bothering to check the disappearance of their companions. The bodies of the dead monsters still littered the ground for all the world to see, if the world cared to look. Apparently the world didn’t care.

“I gots a book here,” Scree said when the silence stretched on. He reached into his pack and pulled out the Gates of Hakahei. He opened it up at random and started to read. “‘Ancient records show that the six people of Hakahei are one people. There are giants and imps, warriors and poets, but at heart, beyond the skin, they are the same.

“‘Millennia past, before those we erroneously call the first men, there were just men who worshipped the older gods. But these gods reshaped the minds and bodies of men in new molds; stronger molds, more useful molds; and flung them out into space.’“

All the reading was giving Scree a headache so he put the book down and looked at the little woman, standing in the armor as if she was willing to do it for the rest of the year. She was ignoring him.

By the time night fell, Ping was still there and Scree was hoarse from talking. He’d exhausted the topic of the bats and the monsters long ago. He’d read sections from different books— there had been a story about a fire breathing lizard, and something describing a land Scree had never visited. He’d talked about fighting and food and magic and carefully avoided the topic of sex or anything like it. So what else was there he could say?

“The place wheres I grew up is kind of like this,” he said eventually, taking a moment to glance around. “Lots of mountains and not a lots of anything else. The caves, now theys was something worth hanging around for. Natural, they was. Well they’d have to be— you wouldn’t catch no troll digging holes to live in. And theres was kilometers of ‘em. All through the mountains, more thans the trolls is ever likely to use. I haven’t been there since abouts me twelfth summer, I think.”

This place wasn’t a lot like Mount Cardenze at all, when he thought about it. Sure, they both had mountains and not a lot of anything else, but there were mountains and there were mountains. “See how these mountain is all cold and grey?” he said. “Well, backs home the mountains are red. The dust, the stones, sometimes the air. Theys were all red.

“And the caves. There are too many to describe. Somes of them is just bare rock, like most people think caves is— with stalactites and stalagmites and all dank and dark and stuffs, but others...” Scree leaned back against the rock and stared upwards. The two moons had cleared the horizon. Neither were very large, but they were bright. “There was one cave wheres the light got in, but nobody could works out where or how. The whole cavern just glowed golden, days and nights. Another one had a waterfall that was green likes an emerald in the morning and blue likes a sapphire at night. And another where the walls was covered in all types of gems and it was like youse was standing outside looking up at the stars.”

Scree could see Ping watching him like she hadn’t done all day. He returned his gaze on the sky and tried to think of something else he could say about the Star Chamber. He’d spent most of the rare idle moments there when he was a troddler.

“Me and... my friend... used to sits in that cavern whens we were boys and name constellations.” He smiled at the thought. A friend? “There was the Dog Constellation and the Fire. Nobody else could see the pictures thats we saw.”

Ping stirred. “In Shadon,” she said softly, “there a place like that. Old crazy man build a huge dome and put holes so light shine through. Different times of day and different times of year constellations painted on floor with light.” She fell silent again.

“Now that woulds be something to see. Real constellations, was they? Or make believe ones likes I had? It’s amazing whats some people think of doing, isn’t it? The crazy guy... was he really crazy? Or did people just say he was crazy because of thats one strange thing he did?”

The little woman may have shrugged then but Scree couldn’t tell. When she spoke again, Scree had to lean forward to hear. “I thought he nice old man. He gave all children cookies when visit and look at the stars.”

“Well, thats ain’t so crazy. I could have dones with some cookies whens I was a boy.”

“Why?” Ping said loudly. “Would it made difference?” She stared, jaw set, waiting for an answer.

“I needs your help, Ping,” Scree said. He stared back at her for a moment then looked away to examine his hands. “I reckons I won’t go any further if you don’t helps me. There’s a door inside that mountain I reckons, somewhere, but I can’t gets in there without you. And you don’t likes me about now, I reckons, and maybe I don’t blame you. But that’s the same as it always was. You didn’t likes me, you just thought that I could helps you. You was using me.”

“You right, Scree, I not like you. But did have some respect.”

Scree laughed, until he realized Ping was serious. “You respected me? Ain’t nobody never done thats before.”

“I not respect everything about you. But strength and courage and fighting ability. None of those are thing endear a person to me, but they things I can respect. But attitude towards life and towards others make you beast.”

Scree grunted. Normally he would have killed a person for that. He took a deep breath. “And hows is that?”

“Beast lives for moment with no thought for future. Beast has no concern for others.”

“Well, you knows that ain’t true. Squirrels and ants store things for the winter months. And wolves live in packs that will fight for each other. And ants again, looks like they lives in communities to me.”

“So you less than animal?”

Scree clenched his fist, cords of muscle standing out on his forearm. “No. I’m saying that theres different types of animals and theres are different types of men. I will admit thats I put myself above all else, but whats else should I do when for the last... I don’t knows how long... humans have hunted my people for sport?” He rose to his feet and paced. Ping took a clanking, hissing step back. “Theys attack from afar with bows and arrows. Or they rides into the mountains and chase troddlers with maces. Only when we’s outnumbered, of course. Is that the type of man you wants me to be? And most men, no matter the race, looks out for themselves above all else. It’s just that for most of thems the greatest advantages lay in numbers and finding other peoples who will fight and die in their place.” But he remembered what he had thought earlier, about gathering all the people that might be useful and keeping them close.

“That not true.”

“Was you expected to fight whens those monsters attacked? No. You expected others to go and die for you.”

“Right, but other expected me to mend clothes and clean their houses. Those men was paid and most time they sat in barracks or broke petty squabbles.”

“And as theys lay dying I’m sure theys were glad you had mended the holes in their clothes and thats they had been well paid.”

“They choose join Guard, choose to risk violence.”

“That’s right, buts I didn’t choose to be a troll. I didn’t choose to watch my friends get killed whens I was a troddler. I dids not choose. But sometimes things don’t always goes the way we plans, or the way we wants. And when that happens? You decide the best way out of the hole, you decide the best way forward, and you forget the past and go.” He sat down again, picking at a tuft of grass. “You forgets and go. You thinks about the next moment and live that. Sometimes there ain’t no other choice.”

19: Take the Sky

Ping climbed slowly. It wasn’t a difficult wall to scale, but the drop below was distracting and she ached all over. Scree had offered to help, but she shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t stand the thought of the troll being too near, so she clung to the side of the mountain testing each hand and foot hold as she went. At the same time, she dreaded the thought of entering the little tunnel on her own.

It is strange, she thought, hating somebody, fearing them, and yet wanting to keep them in sight, if not near.

Scree stood below, watching.

He is probably worried I’ll fall and force him to go back to Tiandi. She was afraid he’d leave her behind if she didn’t do what he asked. Or that he’d go somewhere else and she’d be forced to go home on her own.

Ping took a moment to glance down, checking to see he was still there. She immediately regretted the action and lay against the stone, closing her eyes until she had calmed her heart.

After two minutes and ten seconds of climbing, she found the little metal tunnel Scree had mentioned. Crawling into the long, narrow space seemed less dangerous than the climbing of the wall, but she was suddenly unsure she could go on.

“What’s you waiting for?”

Ping flinched. She started to look down but stopped herself in time. She took a deep breath. “I just wonder if should go head first or feet.”

“Obviously you gots to go head first.”

She may have hung on the side of the mountain all day long, but the sound of Scree scrambling up the cliff forced her into motion. Pulling herself up a little higher she slithered into the opening.

A short way down the slight slope, Ping stopped to wait, craning her neck to look back over her shoulder. A moment later, Scree poked his head into view.

“What happens if can’t find door?” she asked, voice hollow and echoing. “Or I can’t open?” She moved a little further down, getting further from the troll and his steady gaze.

“Ummm...” Scree passed in two hastily made torches and the flint-striker from his pack, sliding them along the shining metal. “I suppose you’ll just haves to come back out this ways.”

“And what if I lost?” Ping struck a spark after several attempts and got a flame burning.

“If you tooks a bit of string you could follows it back?”

“Do have string?”

“No.”

She sighed. “Probably silly plan then.”

She could see the flare of anger in his eyes and almost thought her heart would stop, but he gritted his teeth and gave the matter a bit more thought.

Ping didn’t think there was a solution to the problem, so she would just have to see what happened. That seemed to be Scree’s method for getting through life, and he’d done pretty well so far, if being alive was proof of that.

“How long you wait by door?” she asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

Scree shrugged. “As long as I’m willing.”

That didn’t help, though Ping didn’t really know what sort of answer she was after. She started to move away from him before he said anything more.

Ping came to a cross tunnel. She peered to the left and to the right but there was nothing to suggest which way was best. For ten seconds she stayed where she was, trying to picture the position of the locked door in her mind as she worked out where she should go.

“Left,” she said, changing the burning torch to her left hand and extending her arm into the tunnel on that side as if it might make a difference. Metal walls shone in the flickering light. She could see nothing else. She started to crawl.

After fourteen seconds of clanging and clattering along, banging her head and her knuckles where she held the torch, Ping looked back over her shoulder. It felt as if she was lost already though she could still see the faint glow of light coming from outside the mountain. She considered going back— after all, what was the chance she would find a door and then be able to get it open? But going back now would mean that she was no help to Scree. And if she was no help to Scree...

Taking a deep breath Ping looked down the new passage and kept going. She resisted the urge to turn back every second to see if the glow was still visible.

And nine seconds later she found another passage. It was smaller than the one she was currently in and joined at right angles. It didn’t look like it was anything special. It didn’t look as if it would lead her out. So she decided to keep crawling. But with her torch held out before in the original passage, with the glare partially shielded by the wall, she thought she could see a soft glow coming from the new passage. She changed her mind in an instant and turned aside. And around a bend was a little louvered trap door leading down into a wide hallway. Ping gave a little smile.

The door fell away when she pushed and it was not until she had dropped the torches through and was hanging from the edge, feet dangling a meter above the ground, that she truly noticed that there was light, clear and still. She dropped to the smooth floor. Her knee jarred, one more pain to go with all of her others.

Nervously, she looked about.

There wasn’t much to see. The passage, painted with a thick layer of dust, continued for ten meters in either direction. One way was a dead end. The other ended in a T-intersection. Three doors broke the smooth perfection of the walls. The air was alive with subtle sounds that eluded careful listening. It tasted musty and dry.

Ping sat down in the dust. She was safe. Scree could not get to her no matter how hard he tried. She wanted to rest, and sleep, and bathe. She hugged her knees and wondered what to do.

Sounds drifted down the corridors, insubstantial whispers and dull thuds. Above her head, a red light pulsed beside the large, steady white of the lighting. Ping suddenly felt naked without her monster armor. She picked up the torches and moved quickly to the nearest door.

At least I won’t get lost, she thought, kicking up an eddy of dust with each movement. She left a clear path to follow.

There was no handle evident on the door, but when she touched her hand to the cool shining metal, it gave a slight hiss. With a groan of protest it started to slide open.

Ping turned and fled down the passage. She took the first corner without thought and stopped at the next. The remains of a pile of furniture blocked the passageway. There was a bed frame and some chairs and a couple of large metal cabinets. She paused to listen, breathing heavily, gripping her two torches in sweating hands and examining the blockade nervously. All she could hear were the background noises that had been with her all along.

After a tense minute and a half Ping lowered her torches slightly and, heart racing, sidled closer to the upturned furniture and glanced over the top. She didn’t know what she expected to see, but she was relieved when she saw nothing at all beyond what was also behind her. She took a deep breath and wiped at her face with shaking hands.

“Course there nothing,” she said softly. “Nobody been here long time.” She looked around again just to be sure.

There was another door nearby. Again, there was no handle. Just the smooth, bare metal and the smooth, painted walls. Approaching this door with caution, she reached out a trembling hand and was running back the way she’d come almost before she had made contact. This door opened as well, grinding and hissing.

Around the first bend she stopped and peered back. The door stood open, though from her angle she could see nothing but a thin, vertical strip of white wall in the room beyond. The door remained like that for three seconds and then sighed quietly closed.

Ping continued to watch. Eventually she crept forward, this time holding her position when the door started to open. There was nobody there. The room was slightly cleaner than the corridor, the dust just a thin coating. It was completely empty. Most of the furniture is outside, I suppose, she thought looking at the blockade. The door closed, startling her.

At the next door, the whole process was repeated. The door hissed open, grinding horribly, paused, and started to close. Only it could not close all the way. It stuck halfway, leaving a narrow gap. The view beyond was not much different to the last one offered. One of the cabinets was lying on the floor, that was all. Ping was about to try one more time when another noise drifted to her. She stopped, cocking her head to listen. It came again.

She moved towards the beeping and scraping before thinking better of it. Going the other way, she ducked through the half-closed door and waited.

Her hands were shaking again and she pushed them against the wall. He heart was not so easy to control.

Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later Ping watched, amazed, as a metal box came around the corner. It stopped where she’d been standing. She licked her dry lips and the box let out another series of beeps and spun about.

After a second of stillness, it exploded.

Sparks of red and blue and white spat outwards and smoke filled the hall. The box continued to beep occasionally. Finally, it went bang. The noises died away to nothing.

Ping peered around the door and, when the smoke had cleared, took a tentative step forward. The box didn’t move. She took another step. It still didn’t move. Metal panels covered most of the outside. Three glass panels protected other pieces of glass. Bits of colored string were in there as well, like she had found in the monster armor, only smaller.

Using one of her torches, Ping pushed the machine onto its side. Underneath there was nothing to see besides three wheels. She almost pulled the tool pouch from her belt to examine the box. But she didn’t. What she wanted to do most was find the door and be out under the sky again. She felt as if she was being watched in the echoing, dusty passages. Anything could attack her and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. She felt naked without her armor but felt Scree’s absence even more keenly. Scree would help if he were there.

Ping wiped tears from her eyes. Scree or the sky. Either would make her more comfortable. She shook her head. But I cannot take the sky with me, and I do not want to take Scree. Looking one way and then the other, trying to get her bearings, she retraced her route in her mind to work out which direction she was facing. She set off once more.

For ten minutes, Ping wandered through the halls, looking back every now and then to be sure that the trail of her footprints was visible. Without Scree’s innate sense of direction she was soon lost. But she kept going, running her fingers trough the dust on the walls, and with each step, her unease grew. She passed more blockades. There were places where furniture was scattered on the floor, as if more protective piles had been breached and pulled down.

When she heard the familiar beeping sound again she continued to walk, listening as the metal box slowly caught up. Was it a different box or the same one? She thought the first one had been broken but she didn’t know for sure. Ping stopped to look when the box rounded a corner, veering from one side of the hallway to the other. The beeping seemed to grow more insistent. When it finally stopped a few meters away the box was beeping maniacally.

Ping smiled slightly. Then a ray of light shot from the box. It burned a hole in the leg of her breeches. She gasped and backed away a step. The light came again, scorching the wall to her left. With her second step the box beeped shrilly, fired and then started spitting sparks, as the other had.

Heart tracing, Ping examined her breeches and the wall. It wasn’t the same weapon as that used by the monsters, but it was close enough to scare her.

“I need to get out of here.” But there was nothing to tell her which way to go. She might wander all day without success. The only things that broke the regularity of her surroundings were the metal boxes. She looked at the trail the box had made, as clear as her own.

She swallowed noisily. I have no idea where it will lead, she thought, but I cannot get lost. There might well be a thousand boxes at the end of the trail, but that didn’t change the facts.

“What would Scree do?” Ping shuddered and examined the hall again. She followed the trail left by the box before she could change her mind. She resisted the urge to run.

Occasionally she opened one of the doors to see what was beyond. Not all of the doors opened. Some merely groaned or jammed halfway. Those that hissed aside showed the same bed and the same chair and the same cabinet, or just empty spaces where they should be. She thought she might be returning to the same doors again and again, but the dust on the floor in front of her was marked only by the passage of little wheels.

Once, she thought she heard a beeping, but it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Around two corners, through a snowdrift of furniture, she found a box with smoke spewing from between the joints. And three corners after that the trails of three boxes disappeared through a small hatch beside yet another door. Neither the little door nor the big door opened for her. Ping wondered what to do. There was still no handle or bell. Just a metal door with a film of dust. Beside it, she saw a plaque with words carved into the surface. She traced the indentations with her fingers but they were in a strange language and meant nothing to her. Below the plaque was a button.

Reaching out to press the button, Ping paused as the little door slid open. A beeping box trundled out and spun in her direction. In a panic, she skipped forward and pushed the contraption onto its side. Then she quickly pushed the button on the wall and darted inside the room. It might have been full of boxes, but she didn’t have time to think.

But there were no boxes inside. She breathed a sigh off relief. There was no bed or chair or cabinet either.

Finally, a room that was different. Along one of the walls a long row of panels displayed a series of flashing lights and glowing windows that seemed to somehow look into the hallways outside. The images flickered, and she thought that they might be looking at a different passage each time. She saw the remains of one of the boxes on one screen. A minute later she saw it again. And then again.

After she’d seen the box for the third time a light started to flash amidst a row of buttons on a bench. Thirty seconds later, she heard a hiss. The door behind her was opening. A box was coming through.

Before Ping could reach the box a bolt of energy struck the wall behind her. Another sent a flash of searing pain along the side of her knee. Heart racing, she limped forward and up-ended the box. She sent it tumbling backwards into the hall just as the door closed.

The wound on her leg screamed at her. A long line had been burned along the skin and blood oozed out, but it wasn’t as serious as it felt. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

Scree wouldn’t have noticed. He notices his own pain as little as he notices others’. She tore the bottom of her breeches and wrapped the cloth tightly around her knee, biting her lip as she tightened the knot. But that was all she had time for. She was worried about more boxes coming for every second she delayed.

“Now what?”

Hitting the button by the door with shaking hands, Ping hurried to examine the two fallen boxes and the little door through which they’d come. Both machines were sending out streams of acrid smoke, apparently having succumbed to whatever had disabled the others. The only way she could think to stop the next ones was to block the door. She slid the boxes into place then waited to see if the plan would work. And she waited.

Finally the door opened and she could see movement beyond. But nothing emerged or even attempted to push out into the clear.

With a sigh of relief, she returned to her search of the room. She opened drawers in metal cabinets, but whatever had once been inside had long disintegrated. The windows continued to switch from one view to another, with writing in the corner of each, but did not show anything that resembled the door that led outside. She examined the buttons and switches on the bench but they meant nothing to her. She pushed some but nothing seemed to happen.

For eleven minutes and forty-two seconds she searched the room but found nothing that would help. She gave up and slumped into one of the metal chairs at the bench, head in hear hands, fighting back tears. Here was her chance to help Scree, to prove her worth, and she couldn’t even find the door, let alone open it. She looked around the room one more time, desperate, hoping there was something she’d missed. And she saw a streak of color on the wall where she had leaned to rest earlier. Every other wall she had seen had been the same mustard color hidden behind a layer of dirt.

Rising quickly to her feet, Ping crossed the room and wiped at the dust. She found a map hidden behind. When she wiped some more she found another map. And another. In all, fifteen maps had been painted onto the wall.

But Ping had no idea where she was, so how was she to work out where she wanted to go? She had seen her friends killed. She had crossed between worlds— surely she could find her way through some passages when she had maps to help.

She examined the maps for a long time with no luck. With their geometric patterns of halls and rooms, they all looked much alike. There were words on the maps, but without knowing....

Ping rushed outside to examine the sign on the wall near the door. She tried to memorize the symbols, then went back in and wrote them on the dust of another wall. She examined the maps for more than twenty-three minutes. She felt each second.

Finally, after looking at the words several times, she found [LEVEL C HABITAT] written several times on one of the maps. And after that it was a simple enough exercise to find [SECURITY].

“I’m here,” she said, pointing at the spot. She wondered whether she was right, but decided to trust her judgment. What else could she do? She checked her writing on the wall once more, comparing it to the map, and shrugged. All she had to do now was decide where it was that she wanted to go. At least she felt she had made some progress. She breathed a long sigh and tried to think.

The map she was on did not look promising. A passage ran all the way around the outside with no doorways or small passages leading away. But she found what had to be some stairs leading down and followed the symbols to the correct map. There she found what she thought she wanted: several short passages with a labeled doorway on the end and nothing beyond.

Ping had no idea which direction she was facing. She had no idea which of her suspected doors Scree might be waiting at, if any. So she traced her route to the top of the stairs, and, swapping maps, to the nearest door. She ran through the directions three times, chanting each turn and each intersection.

“Scree would not hesitate.” Scree does not hesitate to do many things. With a deep breath and a shrug, she was off.

After descending the stairs, Ping was confronted by another of the boxes on wheels. She ignored it as best she could and hurried on. They were obviously faulty in some way and she outpaced it easily.

“Miss one. Left.”

But there was another blockage and she scrambled over as quickly as she could then paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. A deep breath and walking again. “Miss two. Right.” Weaving past more furniture. “Left... Miss...” She was almost there but couldn’t remember. “Scree would do it with his eyes closed.” And Ping closed her eyes for a few seconds. It didn’t help. She chose a direction at random. It was the wrong way. She went back to try again. The second passage proved to be correct. She made just one more turn and found a large, double door. It was unlike any of the others she’d seen.

There was beeping behind her, as if a half dozen of the boxes were in pursuit. They were slow, but it would not take them long to catch up.

Heart racing, Ping examined the door. This one also had a button nearby. Holding her breath, she pushed it.

Nothing happened.

She hit the button again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

The beeping came closer.

“And if I do get the door open,” she said, trying to think, “then what’s to stop it from closing again?”

There was a bang as one of the pursuing boxes exploded. Ping jumped. Another bang came soon after, as if one had set off the other. But the beeps kept coming.

Quickly removing the tool pouch from her belt Ping took out a screwdriver and used it to pry at the button. The red outer casing popped away and clattered to the floor. A mess of the colorful cords were revealed. But what did she do with them? For seven second she stood looking, trying to ignore the sounds behind, before sticking her screwdriver in amongst the cords.

A spark arced from a piece of metal sending a shock up her arm. The door groaned horribly. It moved slightly... then stopped.

Ping glanced over her shoulder. The first box rolled around the corner.

Bracing herself she inserted her driver amongst the cords a second time. She ignored the energy biting at her fingers and cramping her arm. She watched through tears as the door slid open a little more.

A bolt of energy struck the wall near where she stood. She jumped again and dropped her screwdriver. The box that had fired buzzed to a halt, whining and screeching. The next was coming closer. It sounded like a dozen of them were just around the corner.

Ping searched the ground for her screwdriver, found it, picked it up with shaking fingers. One last time she jabbed it into the wires, gritting her teeth against the pain. Then the door was open just enough. She slipped through the narrow gap. Her tool pouch caught, holing her in place for two seconds that seemed a lifetime. Then she slipped out into the sunlight.

A box stopped just inside the door, twirling out of control and smoking. After four seconds another appeared. It stopped, beeping quietly. It did not try to pass through after her. Soon there were a half dozen of them there, watching like a pack of wild dogs but not attacking.

Ping collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily and trying to shake the last of the tingling pain from her fingers.

Eventually she looked around. Scree was nowhere to be seen. She did not know where she was. She did not know whether to be relieved or afraid, but laid down where she was to rest.

20: Clockwork Dogs

Scree had been staring at the door for a long time, but it didn’t make any difference. Night came, a storm rolled in. The giant bats on the plain had gone and come and gone again. Ping still hadn’t come back.

“Probably sitting downs with food and ale,” Scree said bitterly. “Should never have trusted her.” But he hadn’t had any choice then, and he had no choice now. He had to sit and wait. The thing was, he did trust her.

Eventually he started worrying, thinking something might have happened. He’d gone back to anger by the time she came along the path from the north. Scree rose and ran out into the rain when she walked slowly into the area in front of the door.

“What are you doings coming that ways?” he asked.

“That was first door I found and didn’t have time to look for right door. If don’t like it can go and find your own door.” They were brave words, but Scree could see her watching him carefully.

“There’s more thans one door?”

“Obviously.”

“Where is it?”

“Five kilometers that way about.”

“So, what took you so long?” Scree asked, the anger creeping into his voice.

Ping took a step back, her hands twisting in the stained material of her shirt. Scree took a deep breath. It could take all day to find the door without her.

“Sorry.” Scree almost laughed until he realized he meant it. He just didn’t know whether he was sorry for himself or her. He didn’t know if there was a difference.

Ping watched him, as if she too was trying to decide. She took another step back. “Took long, because there’s whole city under mountain. Took while to get out, especially since I chased by... things. And there barricades across passages as if people fighting. Once did get out, had no idea where you were. I went other direction before deciding it was wrong way.”

Scree stared at her. “Fighting? When?”

“Not recent.”

“Well, let’s go then.”

“No, I rest. Going to sleep here, and go in morning.”

Scree grunted in disgust and returned to the shelter offered by the doorway. He saw Ping staring at him after he’d settled. He grunted again, swore under his breath, and found a spot out in the open. He wondered if he should just find the door on his own. But she’d said something about being chased, so he might need all the help he could get.

Scree knew that the little woman didn’t sleep, even with the best spot. She stayed awake the whole night, staring at him. Before dawn, she rose quietly, as if to avoid waking someone, and climbed into her armor. Scree stayed where he was, lying silently. If she started to raise the weapon, he’d have plenty of time to move. He waited with his night-eyes painting the darkness, watching her face through the broken helmet.

She thought about it. He could see it in her eyes. It was a strange feeling, having someone stare at him like that and not react. To lie still and silent while someone thought about his death. It made him wonder how others felt when he looked at them in the same way.

When she started to cry, Scree stirred, as if waking. “You up early,” he said, stretching.

She cleared her throat. “Couldn’t sleep,” she replied eventually.

He thought of saying that he couldn’t sleep either. “Thinking about the underground city?” he said eventually

She nodded slightly.

“What’s down there?”

She seemed reluctant to talk about it, so Scree got ready. A couple of minutes later they were following the path around a huge boulder and continuing along the side of the mountain.

With Ping in her armor it was a slow journey and Scree silently complained at every pause for rough ground. He could’ve covered five kilometers quicker than his companion ate breakfast in the mornings, but he didn’t say anything.

Around the mountain, Scree finally saw another metal door. This one was jammed halfway open. He gave a whoop of joy and raced to take a closer look.

A dozen little metal boxes were hanging about just inside. A handful more weren’t moving at all. Others had smoke pouring from various holes. A sound echoed from nearby, blaring in time to a flashing red light.

“What’s all this thens,” Scree asked Ping when she finally caught up.

“Those little boxes like guard dogs. They fire...” she raised her weapon arm “...fire like monsters.”

“You still alive.”

“Because they don’t fire straight. Think they’re broken.”

“Broke?”

“Think they machines, like the armor, except without creature inside. Kind of clockwork guard dog.”

“So why isn’t theys shooting now?”

“Don’t know. Perhaps we’re outside.”

“Maybe.”

Scree watched the boxes as they spun about and bumped into each other near the doorway. After a while he wondered what he was doing. Raising his weapon, he fired at them one by one. They sizzled and popped and threw out sparks before grinding to a halt or exploding completely.

Soon, smoking remains blocked the door. Scree smiled at Ping. It was a while longer before they could get inside. The opening may have been wide enough for Ping to pass through, but neither Scree nor the armor were close to fitting. He lent his strength against one door and Ping set the strength of the armor against the other. Long, straining minutes later, Scree was able to slip inside. While Ping worked for just a bit more room, he made his way to the first intersection. There, he stopped.

He looked one way, then the next. There were pale, dust covered walls, a couple of doors and not much else. There were footprints in the dust on the floor that could only belong to Ping, but he didn’t want to just retrace her path unless she’d found the next gateway. He was still standing, lost in thought, when the woman clanked up beside him. She waited for him to keep going.

“Which ways?” he asked, but she didn’t say anything. He could imagine her shrugging her slim shoulders inside the armor. “How did you find your ways to the door?”

“Was a map.” She raised an arm slowly to point. “That way. Up stairs.”

“Let’s go thens. See whats we can find.”

“There were more of the guard boxes up there.”

The little boxes weren’t going to worry Scree. He started to follow the path of footprints in the dust.

They walked slowly through the corridors. Ping could not climb the blockades, so she simply walked through them, pushing aside beds and cabinets with the inexorable plodding strength of the monster armor. They climbed a set of wide stairs. Then there were more of the same. At the end of the trail, two of the clockwork dogs had been toppled to block a small door.

“You do that?” Scree asked Ping when she eventually caught up.

“Yes.”

He grunted in admiration.

“The maps in there. Have to press button to open door.”

Scree pressed the button and the door slid noisily aside. Inside, Ping had wiped dust from a wall to show the maps. Scree was impressed again, surprised she’d found them and was able to work out what they were.

He studied the images. He retraced their journey in his mind. It wasn’t until he’d worked out where they were that he thought he should tell Ping she’d done well.

He took some time to think about how he might do that. He cleared his throat. “You done good,” he said eventually. He glanced at her. She was looking at him, eyes wide, but looked away almost immediately.

“Umm... We on third level from top,” she said.

“Yeah, I knows.”

The passages were amazing and, according to the painted lines on the wall, there were fifteen levels of them all up with the middle ones being the largest. Scree looked at the maps for little more than a minute then turned to his companion.

“You ready?”

“No. Need paper and something write with.”

“What fors?”

“For the maps.”

“I got the maps,” he said, shaking his head and wondering why she’d want to draw the maps on something as temporary as paper. Scree wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but all the interesting stuff seemed to start at about level 7. There were lots more places marked and labeled from that point, but the couple of words he could read meant nothing to him. He’d just have to go and look for himself, starting at the top and working down. He set off and Ping clanked into motion behind.

#

Scree pushed the button to open the door to the seventh level from the top, four below where they’d originally entered, and immediately knew something was different. The blockade across the door was more impressive than any that had come before. Along with desks and chairs there were heavy, strange machines and odd pieces of metal. And the air was fresher. Scree could feel it moving against his skin. The sounds he’d heard all the way down were clearer, sharper. He cocked his head to listen.

<Wait,> he whispered in his mind and Ping paused on the steps above.

“<What is it?>“ She whispered as well.

<Don’t knows.>

He climbed over into a T-intersection, pointing his weapon down one direction, looking the other— covering his own back. He heard Ping start downwards again and moved away from the doorway as she got close.

<Go right whens you comes through,> he said.

She muscled through the barricade and did as she was told, marching away from him towards the corner. Scree followed, walking backwards and concentrating on the shifting air around him.

<T-intersection,> Ping said quietly as she kept moving forward.

<You look right.>

Scree quickened his pace so that he went to the left at the same time that she went right.

<Two boxes,> she said. Scree had three as well.

These were bigger than on the previous levels though, sixty centimeters high instead of twenty. They moved with none of their fellows’ uncertainty. Scree fired his weapon and heard Ping doing the same. He kept moving from side to side, dancing left to right, not allowing the boxes to aim. He could hear Ping talking in his mind, though she was only talking to herself. She was being fired upon constantly, but the weapons had no effect against the monster armor. The monster weapons were not affecting the boxes either.

<Isn’t working, Scree.>

<I knows.> The machines attacking Scree were starting to compensate for his movement, learning, for they started to fire spasmodically and it was all he could do to keep clear. He was breathing heavily, sweating. <Back around the corner so they’re only in front of us.>

When they were together, Scree stood behind Ping and they were able to concentrate their fire and get results. The first machine moved steadily towards them, firing constantly. It wasn’t long before the metal of its outer casing warped and buckled. The softer materials melted. The colored cords beneath were open to attack. Ping fired into the hole while Scree shifted his attack to the next box in line.

The last box finally stopped moving.

<Cannot keep doing that, Scree. Not if as many as there were the smaller ones.>

<Right. Let’s see if we can finds where they’s coming from then.>

<But came from both directions.>

<Let’s go... left.>

Scree led the way, moving far ahead of Ping, following the trails in the dust, leaping scattered furniture, quickly climbing barricades, weaving through the dust. One of the boxes found him. He didn’t stop moving as he fired at the little clear window on the front. Finally, the window melted and then so did the cords behind. The box ground to a halt, crackling and spitting sparks. Wasn’t so hard one on one, and when you knew the weak spot.

He moved on again and found a map room like the one right up the top and the little door beside it.

He arrived just as another box started to come out. He raced down the hallway and hit the box with his shoulder, driving the contraption back into its den. The heat of the weapon scorched his hip but he stayed where he was, wondering what to do next. He was too close to use his weapon. Half in the den as he was, though, he could see about ten more of the boxes waiting. He had to do something.

When Ping arrived she didn’t offer any help.

Scree dropped his weapon and punched the clear window. He pounded against it until his knuckles bled and then pounded some more. Just when he thought it would never happen, the window cracked. One more punch and he was through. He ripped at the cords beneath, sparks of energy biting at his fingers.

“Howling cats.” But the lights on the box went out and it fell silent. <Now what do we do?>

<Lay it down so others can’t get past.>

Sweating with the effort, Scree toppled the box onto its side and backed carefully out into the open. “What’s to stop thems from just pushing past?”

<Don’t know but last ones didn’t.>

Scree grunted.

<Do you think there another of rooms somewhere?>

He grunted again. <How am I to knows?> But he went to the maps painted on the wall of the nearby room and worked out where they were. Then he looked for another spot marked ‘SECURITY’. He found one on the next level— he’d know where to go next time without waiting to be attacked.

<Come on. Let’s go.>

<Where going?>

<Next level. Looks at all of those markings. There’s important things everywheres down there. A gate will haves to be there somewhere.>

<Right.>

#

Eighth level from the top, seventh from the bottom. It was almost double the area of the floor above and reached by more than a hundred stairs. Scree stopped a moment, listening to Ping coming along behind him one slow step at a time. It’d be a while before she arrived, so he set off to find the clockwork-dog den.

Racing through the corridors he realized there weren’t any signs of fighting. He didn’t know what that meant. When he found the SECURITY room a short while later, the door to the den was closed. He stood staring, waiting. He continued to wait.

Eventually he gave up and hit the button to open the human sized door beside it. He looked around the room to see if there was anything to see, but everything seemed to be the same as it had been at the top of the warren of caves.

A soft shrill noise suddenly filled the room and a red light on a desk started flashing. There was a wheeze of escaping air and a metallic scraping from the corridor. The den door was opening.

Too much of a coincidence, he thought, going to look at the flashing light. There was a small red button beside it. Does I press it, I wonders? He shrugged and pressed.

The beeping stopped. Scree went outside to discover that the little door in the wall, already half open, was sliding closed with grinding difficulty. He didn’t know if that would stop the door opening permanently.

<Where are you Scree?> Ping asked in his mind.

There was no point bringing her here, so Scree examined the map in his mind. There were several huge rooms in the middle of the level and, as he gave Ping directions to the nearest one, he headed there himself. Around two corners, through a door that opened automatically as he approached, around a bend.

Then he was there.

The room was huge, larger in reality than it had seemed on the map. Whole villages could fit in it with room to spare. Scree had come down a whole heap of stairs to reach this point but was still only halfway down to floor level. He could descend another fifty meters, at least. There was an open doorway at one end of the room. It was huge, taking up most of one of the room’s shorter walls.

And scattered across the floor were dozens of... Scree didn’t know what they were, but he thought maybe they were something like the clockwork dogs. Only much, much larger. A group away in the northern corner were each the size of a house, and they were the smallest, crouched on three feet as if ready to spring at any moment. The largest of them all was a sphere that went most of the way from floor to ceiling. Each of the contraptions had four metal spikes sticking from one side, like a family of battering rams.

Scree heard Ping clumping closer, but didn’t turn to look until she halted by his side and stepped free of the armor.

“Looks at it,” Scree said. “It looks like... Well, it don’t looks like anythings I know. But whats if it was a suit of armor, like your armor? Look at the clear bit on the top there where a monster could look out.” He pointed to a clear dome on the very top of the closest sphere. “And look at...” But that was where the similarity to the armor ended really. Most of the larger ones were the same general design.

“What if they were...” It seemed that Ping didn’t know what it might be either.

But Scree remembered his book and what Nemucca had said in the cave on Kiva. He’d read the passages himself a couple of times since. “A ship to fly between the stars.” There were gaping mouths all around the sphere that could be used to spit out fire like the book described. “Come on, let’s go have a look.”

Down on the main floor, Scree stopped to stare.

Like the room, the ships— for Scree was positive that’s what they were— were larger than could be imagined from afar. He stood near the largest one, craning his neck at the black curve of the hull. The foot was taller than he was, though if he wanted he could have stood under the belly of the ship and touched it without stretching.

“How do we get in, do you think?” he asked as Ping stepped out beside him. Before she answered, he crossed to a foot and leapt up to grab the top. He pulled himself up as Ping watched silently.

Scree scaled the giant leg, going from nut to bolt to join to joint. He climbed all of the way up into the body of the machine. But there was nowhere else to go. He found himself in a separate compartment, sealed off from anything else. With a curse, he made his way back down. Ping was no longer there. He could hear her clanking away behind a pile of boxes and went to see what she was up to.

<Find anything?> Scree asked.

<Parts?>

<Parts of what?>

<Parts of the...>

<Ship.>

“I think. It’s like whole thing runs on clockwork. Gears and pulleys and springs and cords that in the armor as well.”

Scree looked around and saw a metal tower about a hundred meters away with stairs leading to the top. It was standing beside one of the medium sized ships, a sphere about fifty meters across. He jogged across and made his way to the top. He needn’t have bothered. There was nothing there except the cool, dusty curve of the hull and a join in the surface. Two of the large funnels were on either side of his position, and he could look down into the mouth of a third. There was nothing to see there either. A metal grille a couple of meters in covered any workings and denied access. He grunted in disgust and climbed back down.

<Are staying here or we looking for the gateway?>“ Ping asked, back in the armor again. She was on the other side of the room.

<No use staying here.> There were only a couple of other rooms on this level and Scree doubted any of them were important. <Come on.>

21: Wrong Choices

Ping followed Scree’s directions as he moved ahead. He led the way through an arch into a second huge room filled with the amazing ships. Then they went through the next, smaller arch and into a long, wide corridor. Scree was fifty meters away, working on a barricade. He was tossing aside furniture and other flotsam of the battles long gone. She arrived as he finally made it to the door and slipped his arm back into the monster weapon. When she stumped to his side he hit the button and readied for what might lie beyond.

Except the door didn’t open.

Ping watched as he glared at the door, perhaps daring it to defy him again. Then he hit the button and got the same result.

“Stinking cats.”

As Scree looked around, Ping took a couple of steps back and waited for the explosion. Shedding the monster weapon once more, the troll found a nice, solid piece of metal and used it to attack the door.

Four minutes later and he might as well have been beating at it with a feather duster. There was not a mark. Not a scratch.

“Stinking, rotten cats.”

Ping cleared her throat. “Perhaps there another door,” she said.

Scree turned his glare on her and she took another step back.

“There isn’t. This is its.”

“Well...”

“Well nothing. We ain’t getting through there.”

“Well...” Ping watched as Scree snatched up his weapon and stormed away from her. After a moment she hurried to follow.

When she finally made it back to the first of the huge rooms Scree was next to one of the smaller ship, shooting it with his weapon and having as much luck as previously. She was surprised that he seemed to stay calm.

After five more seconds she opened the suit and stepped out into the fresh air. She stretched and scratched an itch that had bugging her for what seemed like a lifetime. She was covered in sweat. She wiped her face on her sleeve. “We know where all other doors are, Scree. Well, we know approximately where are. We can find another.”

Without replying, the troll turned and stalked away. Ping followed him out through the huge doors and stopped on a stone platform that reached out into the dense, dark forest. Beyond, on the far side of a wide valley, a saw’s edge of mountains.

“Stinking cats,” Scree repeated.

“The book said all doors were close by, Scree.”

Scree swore and pulled his pack from his back. He searched through the contents until he finally pulled free the book in question. “This book?”

Ping nodded.

“This has been nothing but trouble.”

“If not for the book, we wouldn’t be here.”

The troll nodded, as if that was his point. He examined the leather cover of The Gates of Hakahei then looked out at the valley again. Ping followed his gaze to a flight of stairs that led down to a game trail. And with a sudden surge he was moving again, down the stairs. At the bottom he dropped the book into the dust.

“Scree?” Ping said. She stood watching as Scree disappeared into the trees. She wanted to get her armor but knew that, in his current mood, the troll was unlikely to wait for her slow pursuit. With a final glance over her shoulder, Ping hurried down the stairs.

Left on his own, Scree walked almost as fast as Ping could run and was already lost from sight. Stillness remained in his wake as if the forest held its breath waiting for him to pass. After two and a half minutes she stopped, breathing deeply and starting to worry.

“Scree,” she called. “Where are you? There’s a fork in path.” She looked down one branching and then the next. If she had her armor she’d be able to talk to the troll in his head. She used one of Scree’s swear words then blushed and glanced around as if someone might be watching. Finally, she looked down at the ground and saw scuffed dirt on one of the paths. It wasn’t much, and might have been made by an animal, but it was all she had. Wiping sweat from her face she started to run again.

The forest seemed to be crowding closer, reaching for her with clinging, twiggy fingers, catching at her clothes, scratching her face. She started to panic. What if Scree had gone the other direction? What if she was stuck here on her own? After four minutes Ping was ready to turn around and go back, positive she’d made the wrong choice. Positive she’d made so many wrong choices that if she could just go back to the fork in the path that everything would be all right, that she would find herself watching the Jugglers of Jilin as the Great Clock chimed the noon chorus.

The path divided again and she came to a sudden, knee jarring halt. She wiped her face, this time to remove tears. Sitting down in the dirt of the path she looked back at all the choices she had made since Scree had fallen out of the air in the Great Clock. And she knew she would not have changed any of them if she had the chance. Even the last decision she had made at the fork in the path. So here she was, with one more decision and this time there was no disturbed dirt on the path to offer her any hints.

“He go that way,” she said after moment of thought, pointing to the path that angled up the slope. “He want to stick to the higher ground.” The higher path would also keep him in contact with the circular valley that held the six Ohoga Gates.

Decision made, Ping climbed to her feet and started to walk. She had barely taken two steps when Scree came into sight, striding down the path towards her.

“That’s a dead end,” he said as if he had not all but abandoned her a few minutes earlier. “Got a good view thought. There’s a tower looking thing a few miles in that direction.” He pointed further around the side of the mountain.

“So...”

“Come on, let’s see what we can see.” He turned onto the second path and this time Ping followed immediately. She was pleased that her instincts had been correct, but did not want to be forced to trust them a second time if it could be helped.

#

The tower Scree had seen was just a broken stub. There were a lot more broken concrete blocks littering the ground suggesting the original structure had been massive.

Ping watched Scree lever open the door. While the troll gave the ground floor a cursory inspection she climbed the stone stairs up to the first level and beyond. Most of the floor on the second level was still in tact— just one small section had disappeared— but the roof and walls were all but gone. First she looked out over the valley and could see nothing but trees and a wide river down in the middle of the valley and the mountains beyond. In the other direction, the trees were much thinner and the crumbling outlines of a vast complex of buildings could be seen climbing to the top of the ridge. There was another circular building further up the hill that might have been the base of another tower but only a meter of wall showed above the ground on the down hill side. The other side had been dug into the hill and a door seemed to lead underground.

Scree came up the stairs to look around as well. “Not much down there,” he said as if he had been expecting otherwise.

Ping had another look around. “Not much here either, except...” She pointed towards the door in the other tower but Scree had already seen it. “Do you think it’s Ohoga Gate?” But that was unlikely. It probably led into another underground complex that would house the gate.

Scree shook his head. Then he stared at the doorway and didn’t move.

“What we looking for, Scree? Where we going?”

Looking at all the ruined buildings clinging to the side of the hill, Ping wondered if that was what Shadon would look like in a hundred years time. Would someone be standing on the remains of a clock tower wondering what secrets the ruins might reveal. She didn’t want that to happen. She wanted the city to be saved, to be rebuilt. And the zorigami would never be in a position to do that without help. “Scree, if monsters win, all that will be left will be fighting. You won’t have choices. It will be fight or hide. If we can find a way to stop them...”

“We can’t stop them.”

“Someone can. We need machines like the ones back at the other complex— if they really are ships that can fly to other worlds— and we need someone who knows how to use them.”

“There’s no people here. We won’t ever find someone who can help.” But he moved back down to the ground and headed for the second tower. “I’m going to find a place where I can eat some real food then sleep for a week.”

Ping stayed where she was for five seconds then made her way slowly back down as well. By the time she caught up, Scree had broken down the door in the back of the second tower.

“The lights are working here as well. Do you think the clockwork dogs will be in here?”

Ping peered into the passage. It was lit with the same steady glow as the last place. If the lights were working who was to say about the rest? She shrugged. “One way to find out.” Except last time she’d been wearing the monster armor. She wouldn’t be able to help Scree at all.

The troll seemed to realize the same thing. He looked her up and down for a moment then glanced into the doorway. “I’ll go in and haves a quick look first.”

Ping put her back to the wall and looked out over the ruined walls, tracing the lines in her mind, imagining the people who had once lived and worked there. Possibly there would have been zorigami and trolls working alongside them, working towards goals that were beyond her understanding.

The shadow of a tree marched across the small patch of cleared ground in front of her as the afternoon wandered towards night. Ping waited in silence for more than half an hour, every now and then edging closer to the glow of light from the doorway.

“No clockwork dogs in there.”

Ping jumped and turned to see Scree smiling at her. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t falls asleep in dangerous places.”

“Wasn’t sleeping.”

“Close enough.” He beckoned her into the passage. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Do you know where we going.”

Scree didn’t answer. Ping knew that if he didn’t know where he was going he’d find out quick enough.

The hallways were bright and dusty and quiet. The walls were the same as those in the previous complex. Most of the lights glowed the same steady glow, with only an occasional dark patch on the ceiling showing where one was no longer working. Scree was following his own footprints and Ping trailed along behind, watching his broad back.

Eventually, the footprints stopped at a door that, judging by the marks in the dust, had been closed until very recently.

“Up or down?” Scree asked.

Ping poked her head through the door and found stairs leading in both directions. She shrugged. “Down I suppose. Can’t be much up left.” The top of the hill had not been far away at all.

They explored three levels, roaming from room to room, traipsing along passageways that always looked the same. Sometimes they had to turn around and go back when they came to a dead end. There were other times when Ping wanted to stop so she could examine machines that dominated rooms or tiny, dust caked contraptions on tables or on benches. But Scree was always moving on, looking for something else— something that he could not name or describe. His need was palpable and Ping was not about to argue. When they found another Gate, lit by bright white spotlights, Scree finally stopped. Ping stood just inside the doorway waiting to see what he would do.

“Well,” Scree said, looking back over his shoulder.

“Are you looking help? Or looking ale and food?”

He looked back at the door. “Don’t knows. Tell you when I get there. You comings?”

Ping didn’t want to follow him but knew she had no choice. He may not have needed her any more, but apparently he was willing to suffer her presence, so she was going to stay with him. She nodded. And without another word the troll stepped through the door as if it was the easiest thing in the world— or two worlds. Ping didn’t know how he did it. But she followed him a moment later when a few weeks earlier she would have felt more trepidation stepping in to see the workings of the Great Clock in Shadon.

On the far side the dust was a little bit deeper and a little bit heavier— it puffed out from Pip’s stolen boots and quickly settled back down again. They could have been in the same building. Maybe they were. Maybe all this talk of different worlds was a lie. There were places on Tiandi— some were even close to Shadon— where a river or a steep rocky hill seemed to divide landscapes that were worlds apart.

They found a set of narrow winding stairs that led upwards for a long time. It was as if the building was carved amidst a system of natural caves. Or perhaps the builders here had been as much concerned with form as with functionality.

One level above the door and Ping was following Scree mechanically. It was unlikely she would see or hear or do anything that would help in his search. He would notice anything before she did and she didn’t really know what he was looking for anyway.

The troll stopped and Ping ran into his back. She instinctively cowered back against the wall but couldn’t decided if she was cowering away from Scree or whatever had made him stop. The troll’s back was tense, but his monster weapon remained pointing at the ground. Eventually he strode forward again, out of the passage and into a large room.

Ping could finally see past him. There was a room full of more of the strange metal ships though the largest one here would have been dwarfed by most in the last place. There was one that was hardly larger than a wagon. The largest, four times that size, had an open door at the back. Scree was already inside by the time Ping got there. For a long while Ping stood near the door, looking at a cargo area, empty except for a couple of small boxes. But the troll was muttering to himself and Ping was sure he would damage something if left to his own devices. So she climbed up into the ship and went carefully forward to see what he was doing.

“Doesn’t work,” Scree said as Ping came near. He was sitting in a big chair with a strange array of buttons and switches, levers and dials in front of him. “Stupid thing.” He pressed another button.

“You can’t just press buttons randomly,” Ping said. She shrank back slightly when he rounded on her. She stayed where she was, hand shaking where it rested on the back of his seat.

“Why not?”

She licked her lips. “Because even if something happens you won’t know what you did.”

Scree stared at her for a moment, jaw tense as he gave her words thought. “What do we do then?”

Ping didn’t want to do anything. The ship wasn’t like the armor. It was huge. There was nothing at all recognizable about it. But Scree would just keep pressing buttons and get angrier by the minute. “We do as we did with the armor. We test each switch in turn and...” Ping looked around. And hope nothing works.

But of course it worked.

They had only been pressing buttons for six minutes, waiting in a tense silence after each one. When something happened. The ship began to shake. It hummed and rattled and shook some more. Then it lifted about a meter off the ground.

Scree gave a whoop of joy. Ping shrank back in her chair and wondered what she could possibly say to convince the troll to quit while he was ahead.

“What do we do now?” Scree asked when he had calmed down.

Ping sighed and sat up to look at the controls.

22: Look of the Sun

For a while, Scree stared at all the controls in bewilderment. It would take forever to work out what they all did. Then he decided that he didn’t really care what most of them did. All he wanted to do was fly. Forward and backwards, up and down and turning around— it couldn’t be that hard. He examined the ones that looked the most important.

“I’m going to trys this ones,” he told Ping eventually.

“What? No, can’t just—”

“If we don’t do somethings we’ll sit here forever.” So he spun the wheel before she could argue and the ship spun around on the spot. “Huh, told you.”

That left a lever and a knob. Scree tried the lever without even warning Ping and ran into the next ship.

“Scree!”

“What? We knows what that one does now.” And that just left one more control. Scree tried the knob, spinning it and pushing it and pulling it until the ship rose a little bit higher. “Huh, easy as skinning as cat.” Skinning cats wasn’t that easy if the cat was still alive, but it was just a saying. He pushed back down and the ship sank back to its original position.

“We’re ready to go then.” It wasn’t a question and Ping didn’t look like she wanted to answer anyway. So Scree spun the wheel to get them facing the door and nudged the control to get them moving. The ship pushed between two smaller craft, screeching complaints as it shouldered them aside. Then it broke into the clear and darted out into the open air.

Scree managed to stop the ship and turned to grin at Ping. “Easy.” And it was. It seemed stupidly easy. He wasn’t sure if this was a ship that traveled to the stars— the thought of that seemed a bit like crossing an ocean in a rowboat— but either way, it felt as if he had been doing it all his life.

“Now what?” Ping asked nervously. She obviously wasn’t excited about the prospect of flying.

Scree was starting to feel confident again. He didn’t know if he’d find someone who could fight the monsters, but flying the ship made him think he might be able to do something himself if needed. He definitely wouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life hiding. “Maybe this is a worlds where we can fight back. Maybe this is the one where we have a chance of winning. So we looks for people and see where theys at.” He turned his attention to the outside world again. They were sitting on a ledge half way up the side of a basalt cliff looking out over what might have been an endless desert. Waves of sand rolled away as far as the eye could see.

It wasn’t a promising start. There were no signs that civilization had ever clustered round the gate like it had everywhere else. It seemed to have washed away long ago, taken by desert and years. He swore and pulled the knob that would give them more height. With the cliff below them he spun the ship to face the other way. The ancient complex had been carved into a nub of stone barely two hundred meters across and on the far side the desert took up its eternal march once more, shouldering up to the sinking sun.

Scree swore.

“Should we go back?” Ping asked.

Scree shook his head. “The desert ain’t the problem. I don’t likes the look of the sun is all.”

“What you mean?”

“We’ll wait for dark. We got any of that horrible fruit left anywhere?”

“In your pack?” Ping went to have a look. “Maybe you should land. The ship might stop working like your monster gun did.”

Scree did as she suggested and sat to stare at the sun.

Half an hour later his suspicions were confirmed. He wiped juice from his chin and craned his neck to check the position of the emerging stars. He spun the ship in the other direction.

“What?”

“We’re on Kiva.”

“Your home world?”

He nodded. For a moment he felt like kicking something, then realized the situation wasn’t all bad. “Good news though.” He smiled. “I know how to find some humans with a chance of killing them monsters.” He checked the stars again. The place he’d found his sword was somewhere to the northeast. He guessed it would take a couple of months if he was walking but he had no idea how long it would take in the ship. He squared his shoulders and pushed the lever to send the ship forward.

“So we fly out into desert?”

“What else you think we should do?”

Ping didn’t say anything and Scree pushed the lever further. Soon they were racing forward, covering more ground than he would have thought possible. “We’ll be there in no time.”

The news didn’t seem to comfort Ping at all.

#

“You sure it’s real?” Ping asked.

Scree shook his head and squinted into the distance. The line out near the edge of the horizon seemed to be solid and getting closer, but it was hard to tell in the star speckled night. It was the only thing that had broken the monotony of the desert for the last two hours. He wasn’t really worried, he knew where he was going, but the emptiness obviously made Ping nervous.

He was about to say there was nothing to worry about when the ship shuddered. Scree sat back and looked at the controls. A red light was flashing, which didn’t look good, but there was no way he could tell what it really meant. The ship shuddered again and Scree swore. He dropped closer to the ground and slowed the ship down while he tried to work out what was going on.

He gave a grunt of laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“I’m trying to work out what’s wrong when all I knows is what three of the control does.”

“Not funny at all.”

The ship lurched this time and Scree slowed to walking pace before it stopped working completely. It dropped to the ground like a stone. Scree braced himself and threw out an arm to keep Ping in her seat as well. The ship hit the ground and stopped almost instantly. Clouds of sand sprayed up into the night and rained back down into the desert. The silence that followed was unsettling.

“Told you should have waited,” Ping said eventually.

Scree grunted. “No you didn’t.” He looked in Ping’s direction and didn’t say anything more. He could see that she was close to the edge. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the world outside. There was nothing to see. “Come on.” He headed for the door.

“Should wait until morning? I need some sleep.”

“You’re jokings, right? We only gots a little bit of food and water and in the morning we’ll fry in about ten minutes.”

“Oh.” In the cargo area of the ship, Scree checked to make sure the contents of his pack were neatly arranged and fitted the monster gun onto his arm. He stepped out into the cool of the night and turned to face north once more. Ping took so long to join him he was about to go and see what was going on. But she emerged from the ship, turned and started walking without saying a word. Scree gave a grunt of admiration. She had done nothing but complain about the effort of walking from Shadon to Kansu. Now she conserved her energy and got on with what needed to be done.

They walked in silence for a long time, slogging up the side of dune and down into the hollow beyond.

“How far, Scree?”

Scree shrugged. He really didn’t want to say.

“I’m going to find out sooner or later.”

“Thirty kilometers. Forty maybe.”

Ping sighed. “So we won’t make it anyway? Not before dawn?”

He shrugged again. “Maybes.” It depended on how far it really was, and the height of the dunes and how hard the sand was and how well Ping would keep up. He shifted his pack and kept walking.

#

The dune looked the same as the one before and the one before that. The sand was no different to what it had been when they left the ship but each step was a struggle. Scree urged Ping onwards though he hardly had the energy for the climb himself. The sun beat down like a troll with a war hammer.

“I need a drink,” Ping said, hardly audible.

Scree stopped halfway to the top and turned to look at her. They had maybe one mouthful of water left and Scree needed that himself— he hadn’t had anything to drink since shortly after dawn. “Not yets,” he said.

The woman didn’t complain. She walked up to his side but didn’t even pause, as if once standing still she’d never get her legs moving again. Head down, hands on knees, she kept walking, up the dune as sand slithered back the way they’d come. Scree watched her go. He had set a tough pace but she still hadn’t complained, walking through the night, because he told her she had to. They both needed water badly and the chances of finding it soon were slim, but Scree had always thought he would die on the day he gave up, and he wasn’t giving up today. As he walked up the dune behind Ping he wondered why he’d given her any water at all. He would have had a chance if he’d left her behind at the ship and took the food and water for himself. He could have made it five or ten miles further, at least.

But he’d made a deal with her. You help me and I’ll help you. She hadn’t understood at the time, but that didn’t matter. And she had helped. Without her he wouldn’t have gotten into the underground city. Of course, if he hadn’t gotten into that city he wouldn’t be here in the damn desert. But that didn’t matter either. He’d collected a useful person, and she’d collected one as well. And that seemed like a whole nother deal in itself. He grunted at his own stupidity and continued to climb.

“Can’t stop now,” Scree said to Ping, barely more than a harsh, grating whisper. “Keep goings?”

“I can’t, Scree.” She had stopped at the top of the dune and stood wavering. “I can’t go any further.”

“Yes you can.”

“No.”

Scree had been expecting this conversation for the last few hours.

“You going to die here, or at the top of the next dune?”

Ping sank to her knees. “I can’t walk any further.”

A simple enough statement. Looking around at the sand and the sky, Scree took out his canteen and removed the lid. Maybe one mouthful left. “Dead kittens.” This is no way to die. He looked at Ping and considered his options. Then he tipped back his head and drank the last of the water. Two mouthfuls. Huh. Never in his life had he been so grateful for two mouthfuls of water. He didn’t waste energy with words.

He picked Ping up and slung her over his shoulder. She didn’t complain. If she had, Scree wouldn’t have had the breath to argue back.

Scree didn’t like deserts. He never had. And now he knew why. He’d seen a few of them but had always had the sense to stay near the edge or follow well-known, well-marked trading routes. Oases were nice enough places, in their way, but all they really did was show how harsh and horrible the rest of the desert really was.

And big.

When you were tired and thirsty, when you were dying, harsh and horrible really started to look insignificant compared to ‘big’. Scree thought a lot about the size of deserts as he half stumbled down the back of the dune then started to slog up the face of the next. He could hardly raise his eyes above his feet and from that perspective the sand seemed to go on forever. At the top of the dune he did look up, and all he saw was another dune. Silently swearing at all the cats in the world he lowered his gaze again and kept going.

One more dune, and another after that until he didn’t know how many impossible hills he’d carried the woman up and down. The sand always slithering downwards like a whisper of death, fighting his every step, no matter if he was going up or down.

One slow painful step after another. Ping seemed to weigh as much as a bag full of useless, tainted gold and he wondered if all that weight on one shoulder was making him walk around in circles. So, as he reached the top of the next dune he turned around to find the position of the sun. And shading his eyes he compared the position of the sun to the quickly disappearing trail of his footprints. But all the comparing in the world wouldn’t help seeing he couldn’t remember which direction he was supposed to be traveling. And was it morning or afternoon? Did the sun rise in the east or in the north? For all he could tell the sun had always been there, beating down on him for a life time, draining the energy from his legs and the moisture from his skin.

“Scree,” Ping croaked.

He blinked. Ping. Yes, Ping. On his shoulder like a parrot from one of the pirate tales he’d read during the eternal night he’d sat waiting for the little woman to talk to him. “What?”

“Trees.”

Scree gave the word some thought. Interesting. “Where?” If they weren’t at the bottom of the dune they were probably too far away.

“Bottom.”

Scree turned slowly around again and stood blinking in the light. He’d heard of mirages but... Not a hundred meters away, a narrow strip of trees marched through the desert, a river of green amongst the sand. He stared for a long time.

“Trees,” he said. “At the bottoms of the dune.” He grunted in disbelief. “Come on thens. It won’t walk to us.” But Ping was over his shoulder and facing the wrong direction now. So he forced himself into motion.

When he dipped in under the first of the spreading branches, Scree thought the shade might almost be better than a drink of water. Without the sun on his shoulders and head he felt as if he had a new lease on life, as if the energy that had been used to keep him cool was now flowing back into his tired muscles.

The feeling didn’t last. He trudged all the way to the other side of the strange river and didn’t see any water at all. Cursing his luck he sank to the ground and decided he’d stay right where he was. What was the use of a river without water?

He felt a gentle pressure against his side and turned to see Ping looking at him.

“Hello,” he said softly.

“Need water,” Ping said. At least he thought that was what she said. He couldn’t really hear and didn’t care enough to ask.

The little woman crawled away from him to a small hollow near the base of a tree. She paused for a moment then started to dig.

Scree wondered if she was digging a grave. Was it for her? Or was it for him? He didn’t know if he wanted to be buried.

But if it was for him, maybe he should help. So Scree crawled over to look.

As he got close, Ping moved aside and he saw a small puddle of water in the bottom of the hole. More was seeping in by the moment. Of course. He knew that. If only he’d had enough energy to think.

He reached down and scooped out some of the water. It was dirty and held the tang of unknown minerals but seemed as cool and fresh as the wine the crazy monk had given him while his legs healed. Ping drank as well, smacking her lips and sighing with pleasure. She sat back and leaned against a tree while Scree took another drink and tried to work out how to fill his canteen without doing any more work. In the end he gave up and made the hole bigger.

When he was done, Scree was about to suggest they find a spot to wait out the hottest part of the day when he noticed Ping was already asleep.

23: Bigger Problems

Scree pulled Ping down behind a fallen log a hundred meters from the outermost building, took off his pack and monster arm and settled down to watch.

The remains of villages dotted the river, some large, some barely more than a few houses clustered around a central square. None had more than a few walls standing amidst the creeping hands of nature. There’d been a well in the first one, choked with weeds but still collecting water. Clusters of feral vegetables surrounded the next. After scavenging for wild berries and fruits for days the selection was overwhelming. Carrots and radishes, corn and tubas. The third was covered in a dusting of tiny white flowers. The forth erupted in a blur of red and green as hundreds of parrots took flight. And the fifth was full of people.

“Who are they?” Ping asked after a while. She was peeking through a hole in the rotting trunk and not likely to see anything that wasn’t right in front of her.

“They’re moai, I reckons,” Scree replied, but that wasn’t the information she was really after and he couldn’t help her with that.

“What are they doing here?”

And that was a stupid question. “Living.”

They didn’t do anything interesting. The women sat around in the square talking and preparing food and handcrafts while the men worked in gardens and repairing things around the village. Scree was about to get up and walk into the village to ask for some real food— though he knew that moai didn’t eat meat— when things started to get interesting.

The first thing he noticed was something in the sky. He knew straight away it wasn’t one of the monster’s bats, but he didn’t know what is was. It took him a few minutes of staring, watching as the thing got closer, to work out it was a ship. It was like the big ones he had seen in the hanger.

Very interesting.

It was a sphere about fifty meters across and looked about as graceful and as likely to fly as a bumblebee. It was an amazing thing to see.

A short while after that the ship was settling down in the desert on the far side of the village. It made a deep humming sound, like a stampede of cattle, and kicked up a storm of sand but wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Scree expected.

Apparently the moai thought it was dramatic. They were leaving the village, streaming through the trees towards the ship like they wanted to be doing anything else.

Scree grabbed Ping’s arm and hurried that way as well. He wasn’t worried about being seen.

At the edge of the desert he laid down under the last of the trees and looked at the ship. Nothing he hadn’t seen before. And then a smaller ship, about the size of the one he’d driven himself, came out through a door, wobbled for a moment, then dropped down to land. When the sand had rained back down a moai and a tall thin woman emerged. They moved to stand silently in front of a group of local women.

“Interestings,” Scree muttered.

Then a voice crackled in his head.

<It’s all right, Tuki. You’re doing great.> And a moment later another woman stepped out of the small ship.

“What’s happening?” Ping asked.

Scree shook his head and tried to follow the conversation. He couldn’t hear half of the conversation in the real world and the speakers were blocking half of what was being said in his head. He was confused by just about everything he could hear. He whispered the conversation to Ping, hoping she could work out what was going on. He was sure of one thing though. The woman talking wasn’t any type of goddess no matter what she said. Her name was Kim, and she was just an ordinary human. The other two weren’t all that special either, as far as he could tell.

And then things got even more interesting. Scree smiled.

At least a dozen trolls were slinking through the trees towards the village. Scree took Ping’s hand and dragged her, as quietly as possible, under the spreading leaves of a lakatil bush.

The trolls stopped just out of the village to see what was what. They must have heard the ship arrive, and felt it reverberating through the ground, but they were coming out of the trees and might not have seen it.

“Are we going to help them?” Ping whispered.

“They don’t need our help. They’ll mangle that village in no time.”

“Not the trolls,” Ping said. “The other ones.”

Scree hadn’t thought of that. He turned back to look at the ship. Interesting.

<You got trouble, woman,> he said in his head.

<Who the hell are you? What’s going on?>

<I’m Scree and you got a pack of hungry trolls ready to mangle that village and everyone in it.>

There was a pause before the woman replied and she sounded flustered. <What?>

<Don’t know whats you’re up to but you’d better hurrys up about it.>

Another pause. <Can you stop them?> Kim asked in his mind.

<Why should I? Likely get myself killed if I try.>

<But... The trolls are going to kill the moai?>

<Usually what happens.>

<But...>

<You don’t want the moai killed?>

<Of course not.>

<You’re as bad as Ping. Waits.>

Scree checked the trolls again and sat down to think while the broken conversation continued in his mind. Finally, he decided that here was what he had been searching for all along. Someone who could fight back against more than one monster at a time.

<You in charge of that ship, woman?>

<Yes.>

<You fly to the stars?>

<Yes.>

<You can fight the monsters? The ones that ride the bird things?>

<If we have to, but we don’t want to. They aren’t the real problem.>

<They aren’t the real problem? You got bigger problems than them monsters?>

<There are always bigger problems.>

<Well, right now I reckon these trolls is your biggest problem. If I stop them will you let me and Ping go with you?>

Kim hesitated. <Well...>

<We got a deal?>

<Yes. Try not to kill them though.>

Try not to kill them? Scree laughed. Try not to die. He made sure the monster weapon was working and took a deep breath. “Stay down,” he said to Ping as he stood up.

He was spotted almost instantly and one of the trollops rose to her feet. She was huge, almost as large as the moai. Some time during the last few days she’d dispensed with her clothes and her scarred skin was burnt red by the sun. “Who’s you?”

“I’m Scree.”

“Pumice.”

Scree had known lots of Pumice’s in his life, male and female. Trolls didn’t spend too much time thinking of names.

“You wanna join?” she asked. “We just about to smack some humans.”

He took a breath, at least he was going to get a chance to talk. “They ain’t humans.”

“What is they then?” She twirled a large club in her hand.

He looked her up and down. It seemed a lifetime since he’d had sex. “They’s moai.”

“Moai? Giants?”

“Yep. Deadly buggers.”

“Deadly? More deadly than us?”

“Beat up their babies to see if they’s tough.”

Another troll rose to his feet. “You don’t look worried.”

“I can runs fast.”

The pack laughed until Pumice cut them off. “They’s not tough. I heard of moai. They stand there and watches you while you does it.”

Scree grimaced and didn’t say anything.

“Why you protecting them?”

“Not protecting them. Protecting my pack.”

“You got a pack? You ain’t protecting them then, you just stopping us from getting the loot.”

“No, my pack’s different. They needs protecting.”

“But I want the best loot. You ain’t getting it.”

Scree sighed, shifted his grip in his monster gun and wondered if he could kill them all before he was overwhelmed. But they were trolls. While he and Pumice talked they’d been spreading out until they almost encircled him. Twelve trolls, nine trollops. Plus Pumice. Lots. They stood, silent and watchful, ready for anything.

“Well, you ain’t getting it, so how ‘bout I just kills you now.”

“Youse gunna kill me? I don’t think so.”

“I can kills you without moving.”

“Lets see you do it then.”

So Scree killed her, letting off a long sizzle of energy that cooked the trollop where she stood. The others watched, open mouthed and stunned— not quite as ready as they thought. If they’d attacked straight away he was finished, but that hesitation gave him a chance. He could see the anger and blood lust growing in all of them and spoke before it got out of control.

“Who’s in charge now?”

For a moment nobody moved, then a big troll stepped forward.

“Bluff.”

The name suited. Bluff was tall and broad.

“You sure you’s in charge, Bluff?”

“Well, I know that you ain’t.”

So, one demonstration of the weapon wasn’t enough to convince them. Scree didn’t think he’d live long after a second demonstration. He listened in his mind, trying to work out how the human was going with whatever it was she was doing. It was hard to tell. “How abouts if I wrings your neck. Is I in charge thens?”

Bluff laughed. “Don’t ask me. Ask them.”

“Yeah,” one of them said. “You’s in charge then, hey.” Others agreed, as if they didn’t think it’d make any difference.

“Right then.” He removed the monster gun from his arm and got ready. “You can keep you club, if you wants.”

“Oh, I want. You don’t expect me to help you, do you?”

Scree shrugged and attacked.

Bluff responded a fraction of a moment too late and Scree was inside the arc of the club, too close for the weapon to do any damage. He blocked easily with his forearm, punched twice in quick succession. Bluff rocked back, stumbled, righted himself as Scree moved back.

“You don’t think I needs your help, does you?” Scree said. He saw the blood lust rising in Bluff’s eyes and was surprised when he didn’t respond likewise. And he was surprised how much more effective that made him. Had his time with Ping changed him that much?

He stepped inside again, went down low. He struck his opponent’s knee with the heel of his hand. Bluff grunted, but nothing broke. Scree rolled away. He came to his feet in the clear. His opponent was already coming at him, yelling wordlessly and swinging his club.

Scree blocked again, lashing out with his arm and glancing the club past his shoulder. He punched Bluff in the throat.

The big troll gasped for air. He clutched at his throat, wheezing. While he struggled, Scree broke his neck.

With a deep breath, Scree glanced at the log where Ping was still hiding and wondered how she was reacting. Then looked around at his new pack. They looked as mean as ever, but didn’t move against him. He decided to get the monster gun back on his arm just in case.

“What now, boss?”

“Who you?”

“I’m Stone.”

“Well, Stone, now we waits for a few minutes, then I goes, and you does whatever you wants.”

“You was serious?”

He remembered what the woman had asked him. “Well, it’d be nice if you didn’t kills any of them moai. Or even hurt thems.”

They didn’t look too happy about that.

“Just maybe take some food and move on?”

“So you goes goes,” a trollop said, “but still expects us to do something something like that ‘cause you asked?”

Scree shrugged. “Don’t expect it. But that’s what the boss wants so I’s asking.”

“You ain’t in charge?”

“Nope.”

Stone gestured to the gun, now on Scree’s arm. “You ain’t running with them monsters, is you?”

“Nope. I’s just got me a new pack a couple of minutes ago. They was hunting the monsters, in the sky, but they after something bigger nows.”

“Bigger than them monsters?” Stone raised his eyebrows and whistled softly. “And how do you know your boss don’t want us in the pack?”

Scree thought about that for a moment and shrugged. “Don’t knows, really.”

“Why don’t you ask? I think you should ask,” a younger troll said. “He should ask, shouldn’t he? Sounds like fun, I reckon, so he should find out what the boss thinks.”

Scree thought about that as well. “Why you want to come?”

Stone laughed. “Why you going with them? Fighting something worse than them monsters? Where else would we go?”

Scree nodded but he knew trolls. And he knew what the woman had said and he knew that so far humans were about the only people he’d seen with any idea about machines. “One thing youse gotta understand,” he said eventually. “Ain’t no choice of boss. The human is it. And she don’t like killings. And she don’t even likes maiming unless it’s needed.”

“What?”

“Yeps. And what she says goes, cause without her we ain’t getting nowheres.”

“You serious, hey?”

“Yeps. That’s the way it is. If she says stand still, that’s what we does. If she says no killing, then no killings.”

“And if we don’t wanna do what she says, hey?”

“Then I’ll kills ya.”

“She won’t like that, aye,” another trollop said with a wicked smile.

“Nope,” and he remembered something Kim had said to the other woman in his head, “but she’s smart enough to know that sometimes the need arises.”

Scree knew they wouldn’t change their minds now. He also knew that a lot would change their minds some time soon. And they knew he knew. Scree decided to ask Kim what she thought anyway. He eyed up a tasty young trollop while he spoke, smiling and licking his lips. She gave a toothy smile in reply. Flaming cats, it was a long time since he’d had a rut.

<You don’t wants some trolls, does you?> Scree asked in his head.

<What?>

<I gots me a pack.>

<Well, what would I do with a pack of trolls?>

<So you wants me to just leave them here near the village?>

<What will they do?>

<Told you already.>

<And what’s to stop them from mangling my ship?>

<Me.>

The woman didn’t reply.

<Trolls is good at fighting,> Scree continued, <and if you got bigger problems then I may need some help.>

<Will they do what they’re told? Will you do what you’re told?>

<If you gives orders worth following.>

<Well, okay then. I suppose. Shit.>

<Good. Meets you at the little ship.>

“Right, you lot are in,” Scree said.

“I thought you was asking the boss?”

“Already asked.” He looked at the trollop. “Got a couple of minutes before we gots to be there though.”

24: Mother Blower

Tuki held the skyglass like he had been instructed and walked silently behind Meledrin. When the elf stopped a few meters short of the nervous group from Danyon Ford, Tuki stopped as well. But after that he did not know what to do. Kim had told him to hold his head high, to be proud, but Ko’uka, a mo’shi, was watching him with harsh concentration. He could not return her gaze for that would be disrespectful, but he could not look away, for Kim had said...

After a moment of nervously looking at the silently watching moai, perhaps hoping for a distraction amongst them, Tuki stared resolutely at the tops of the trees behind. He wanted to look out at the desert. Though his time away could be measured in days it felt as if he had been gone for much longer. It felt as if he had slipped into some other life in the intervening time. He held the skyglass and wiggled his feet in the sand and stared at the trees.

<It’s all right, Tuki. You’re doing great.>

Tuki jumped slightly and glanced back over his shoulder— it was as if Kim was whispering in his ear, or in his mind, when she was still out of sight in the Lander. <The leader here is Ko’uka.> He said in his mind, touching at the band that wrapped around his head as if that might somehow help carry his voice to Kim. Perhaps it might— he had no idea how the machine worked.

For long moments nobody said anything. In moai communities it was proper for visitors to speak first, asking for the blessing of the hosts and permission to enter. But Kim had not yet left the Lander and Meledrin was not likely to speak before she arrived. Tuki longed to look back over his shoulder again to see what was happening, but this time he held himself still.

Finally, Kim arrived, stepping lightly across the sand in her ‘dressing-gown’. As she approached Meledrin stepped aside, went down onto her knees and bowed her head. After a moment of hesitation, Tuki did the same, skyglass held before him. That position was preferable to looking at the women from the village, so he stayed that way, even when he noticed Meledrin raise her head.

Kim stood nearby, not saying anything.

Finally Ko’uka spoke, breaking the silence with words harsher than was proper. “Who are you? What do you want?”

From the corner of his eye, Tuki could see go’gan hiding amongst the greenery of Dry River. He did not know what they intended to do should harm befall the women.

Kim replied in her native tongue. Tuki could understand none of it but Meledrin translated into Rongo a moment later.

“Poti— the Mother Blower— wishes to be shown the respect that She deserves. She wishes for you to abase yourselves, as is proper.”

“This woman— this human— claims she is Poti?”

A quick exchange, Kim staring straight ahead as she spoke, Meledrin paying close attention.

“Poti is aggrieved that belief and humility have gone from the moai. All people are equal to Poti, humans and moai alike. Men and women alike.”

Tuki heard a gasp from the trees. A go’gan stepped into the clear for a moment, before slipping back under cover.

“Tell Poti that women and men are not equal. They never have been.”

And Kim spoke in Rongo, though Tuki thought that perhaps it was earlier than she wanted. “Ko’uka, show me where it is said that women are better than men?”

“It is shown every day, in all of our lives.”

“Tell me how.”

“Men cannot speak to the skyglass.”

Kim laughed. “They can not use the skyglass because women will not let them. There is no other reason.” She made a gesture and Tuki heard Meledrin in his ear.

<Stand up, Tuki. Turn on the skyglass and do something with it.>

<No, Tuki. Just stand. Don’t do anything else. You stand too, Mel.> Kim took a step forward. “But I wish to know why I talk with you, Ko’uka. Where is the mo’min? Respect has joined humility and belief, thrown into the furnace of the moai.”

“The mo’min has much to do. She has remained in the village.”

“Mel, lead on. Tuki, tell her if she goes the wrong way.”

But it was not hard to find the way. The well-worn path led directly to the village, skirting along the edge of an irrigation drain for much of the way. Moai, female and male, streamed through the trees on either side, racing to reach the village before ‘Poti’.

Tuki followed Meledrin between the first of the buildings, past his friends from another life. The men watched as if he and the skyglass together were a miracle happening before their eyes, more amazing than the ship coming down from the sky.

As he followed Meledrin across the square beyond the building, Tuki saw Keala.

He almost stopped. The last time he had seen Keala he had promised that he would return with a skyglass. And he had. But he was not sure the skyglass could ever really be his to give and knew he would not hand it over anyway. He saw her watching, as beautiful as ever, with her dark eyes and long, thick plait. He wanted to explain to her what had happened, why he had taken so long, why he would keep the ‘glass for himself. But Kim was in his ear urging him forward.

<Where will the mo’min be, Tuki?>

<In her house, I think, at the very north of the village.>

<Let’s go then, Mel.>

<But mo’min... Kim... I cannot pass the wall.> The wall that divided the village in two, that kept the unmarried moai and the married moai separate, was just a few meters away. Tuki was walking towards it as if he did not intend to stop, but he did not know if he could force himself through the narrow gap near the tree.

<Which wall? That wall? Of course you can pass it, Tuki. Don’t even slow. Don’t look aside. You have every right to go wherever the hell you please— you have a skyglass, remember.>

Tuki swallowed and nodded, though it was not until he had taken that step, from one side of the wall to the other, that he knew he could do it. It felt like a greater step than stepping between worlds. Kim seemed to sense his unease.

<Your people think women are superior, Tuki. The elves agree. But Keeble thinks men are better. I think they’re all as useless and wonderful as each other. Somebody has to be wrong.>

<You are right, mo’min, but what if it is Keeble who is wrong?>

<Then we change the answer.>

With all the talking, Tuki had not noticed the commotion his progress had caused. In the square behind him, women were shouting, calling on somebody to halt the outrage. The men stood in shocked, thoughtful silence.

Tuki took a moment to wonder who the women were imploring into action. Surely they could not be asking the go’gan, for that would mean they too would step beyond the wall. If anyone was to stop Tuki’s sacrilegious march, it would need to be the women, though obviously they thought the men better suited to the task. Tuki smiled slightly at the thought.

“<To the left, Meledrin,>“ he muttered. “<The house in the trees.>“

Apparently word had preceded them for as they got nearer the mo’min emerged from the house to stand between two trees that acted like a gateway in front. She was an old moai but still with a straight back and steady gaze.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“Mo’min, Ko’uka greeted me in exactly the same manner. It annoyed me greatly then, and annoys me even more now.”

“Well, I do not care to know your thoughts. You claim to be Poti? What proof do you have?”

“Faith requires no proof, mo’min.”

“Well, I do.”

“Show me proof that says I am not Poti. Or do people come from the sky every day?”

Tuki had an idea though... he swallowed and spoke quietly to Kim. <Ask her of the meteors that have foretold your coming. Ask her why I was not believed. I told Ko’uka that I saw a meteor change direction.>

“For weeks,” Kim said, “meteors have warned of my coming. Have you not seen them?”

“Meteors are common things, for those who—”

Kim gestured briefly at the skyglass Tuki carried. “I know how to look, mo’min.”

<You got trouble, woman.>

Tuki almost dropped the skyglass. The voice in his ear, delivered by the radio, was not one that he knew. Unable to stop himself, he turned to look around. All he could see was Danyon Ford and the moai who had always been there.

Kim was obviously as shocked as he was. <Who the hell are you? What’s going on?> The unease in her voice was obvious but she avoided looking around and somehow managed to concentrate on her conversation with the mo’min. “I sent my faithful servant, Tuki, a message but you ridiculed him when he passed it on. Why?”

“He is but a go’gan—”

“I watch over all moai, mo’min. Is he, or any man, less worthy of my protection than you? Is he less worthy of my attention than you? I sent a message that you ignored.”

The mo’min glared for a moment. “The message that Tuki passed on was not ignored. I just thought it better to consult the heavens before acting.”

The other voice returned again. “I’m Scree and you got a pack of hungry trolls ready to mangle that village and everyone in it.”

“What?”

“Don’t know whats you’re up to but you’d better hurrys up about it.”

Tuki swallowed. <Trolls? Kim all the humans I met on Kiva were terrified of trolls. They are fearsome men.> And now there were some ready to attack Danyon Ford? He spoke to the mo’min then, giving Kim a chance to speak with the stranger. He hoped he was doing the right thing. “Ko’uka told me standing by the wall,” he said, blushing despite himself. “She did not ask you anything, mo’min, or consult the skyglass. She said I would probably never be married.”

<Can you stop them?> Kim asked the stranger.

<Why should I? Likely get myself killed if I try.>

<But... The trolls are going to kill the moai?>

<Usually what happens.>

<But...>

<You don’t want the moai killed?>

<Of course not.>

<You’re as bad as Ping. Waits.>

The stranger fell silent and Tuki watched as Kim gathered herself. “That is true, mo’min. Did the skyglass show you the future so you could pass these instructions to Ko’uka before Tuki even brought the matter to her attention? When did you tell her it was a matter best investigated in private? When did you tell her that Tuki should be publicly ridiculed?”

The mo’min sniffed. “I did not tell her.”

“So was Ko’uka punished?”

“There was no punishment.”

Tuki saw Kim raise an eyebrow. “Perhaps there should have been.”

“The skyglass did not—”

“Perhaps I should have Tuki consult his skyglass to discover what punishment he sees there.”

“Tuki cannot use the skyglass. He is just a go’gan.”

“Tuki can, mo’min. Tuki does. He has been with me to the heavens and knows more of them and the skyglass than you ever will.”

“A go’gan cannot—”

“Mo’min, collect Danyon Ford’s skyglass.”

“I will not.”

<Mel, go in and get it. Hopefully it’s in the open or we’ll look like complete idiots.>

<And if the mo’min attempts to stop me?>

<Don’t let her. You can handle yourself, can’t you?>

<If the need arises, but...>

<We’ll if it arises, then handle yourself. We don’t have time for this.>

<Very well.>

25: Skyglasses

Tuki watched as Meledrin strode forward and the mo’min moved slightly to bar her path. Tuki hid a smile at the thought of Meledrin being cowed by anything as insignificant as size. The two women stared at each other. The set of the elf’s shoulders was calm and relaxed. Fury was rising in the mo’min’s eyes and it was she who looked away first. Meledrin could have stepped past the larger woman then, but she did not. She stayed where she was, staring, until the mo’min stepped aside.

<You in charge of that ship, woman?>

Tuki listened as Kim and Scree spoke for a minute until it seemed the Hakahei had two new crewmembers. Tuki wasn’t sure if he liked that at all, but before he could even decide if he should say something Meledrin returned from the cabin, the skyglass held carefully before her.

“Let us go to the square, mo’min,” Kim said.

When Meledrin did not slow, Tuki fell into step a couple of meters behind, and Kim walked behind him. The mo’min and a dozen mo’shi, the only people who’d gone beyond the wall, bought up the rear.

Back at the square, the entire village had gathered. Meledrin stopped just beyond the gateway, amidst the closest of the moai. Tuki found that he was still in the northern half of the village. Perhaps Meledrin had deliberately left him there to prove a point. He stepped aside to let Kim pass.

“I am Poti,” Kim said softly. People at the back of the crowd strained to hear. “And today marks a new beginning for the moai.” She went forward and took the ‘glass from Meledrin, holding it up for all to see. <Is this thing on, Tuki?>

When Kim stepped close Tuki reached out and touched a finger to the skyglass she held. He muttered the word that turned it on.

Kim made her way to the nearest go’gan and took his hand. Tuki doubted Kim knew that the moai was unmarried but male was all that mattered, he was sure.

<That is Inaki,> Tuki said silently. <He is a go’gan— unmarried. By touching him you have given him great honor.>

“Inaki, you have never touched the skyglass?”

The young go’gan shook his head. “No, mo’ma.”

“Why is that?”

“It is not allowed, mo’ma. Only the mo’min and mo’shi can touch the ‘glass and read the messages from the... from you.”

“Who told you this, Inaki?”

“I do not know, mo’ma. It has always been so.”

“It has not. You all know Tuki.” She gestured and Tuki tried not to lower his eyes. “He thought the same as you, but now he is responsible for the care of my skyglass.”

The crowd gasped, as if they had not noticed Tuki with the ‘glass.

“The moai are on many worlds, Inaki, but it is only here that the mo’shi deny the rights of all male moai. Here, take the ‘glass.”

Another gasp. Tuki watched as Inaki took a step back. He was Tuki’s age, but they had had little to do with each other. Tuki realized that he had not had much to do with any of the others. But he could think of a few go’gan who would have been better choices.

“I cannot, mo’ma. It would not be proper.”

“Who says?”

“The mo’min. The mo’shi.” Inaki lowered his eyes and put his hands behind his back, as if wanting to avoid temptation. Kim continued to hold the ‘glass out in front.

“I have my own skyglass, Inaki.” Kim gestured towards Tuki. “By all the laws set out by your leaders, I am a mo’min. Is that not correct?”

“Yes, mo’min. Mo’ma.”

“Very well, then it is permissible for me to make new laws. Take this skyglass, it is allowed.”

Kim offered Inaki the skyglass and he reached out a tentative hand. The glass started to glow the moment his fingers made contact and the go’gan withdrew his hand quickly. He looked from Kim to the mo’min as if wondering whose word he should believe.

“Would that happen if it were not allowed?” Kim asked.

“No, mo’ma. I don’t think so.”

“Take the skyglass, Inaki.”

Tuki watched Inaki reach forward again and wondered if his own face had worn the same expression when he had first dared to touch the ‘glass. Tuki searched the faces of the people around him. The men all wore much the same expression, as if they were the ones reaching out. The women... The women looked afraid. Except Keala... Keala was staring at him, fury stark and plain in her eyes.

Tuki quickly turned away.

He knew the skyglass was not a magical item, but one made by men, to be used and controlled. If the women were wrong about that, what else might they be wrong about?

Meledrin thought women were better than men and said so on many occasions. But Keeble was as competent as any woman could hope to be.

He looked up at the sky for a moment. Perhaps women are more suited to life in the desert, he said to himself, but I now know that the desert is not everything.

When he returned his attention to the square and to Inaki, he saw that the go’gan was speaking the names of different constellations and watching as they appeared in the polished surface of the skyglass. The watchers gasped with each change, crowding closer and straining to see all the better.

“Men and women must live as equals, side by side,” Kim said, retrieving the skyglass from Inaki. <Tuki, do you think you can knock down part of that wall?>

<Ummm... I think so.>

<Yes or no?>

<Yes.>

<Good, when you’re right then.> And to the crowd, “Marriage is a holy union, but those who remain unmarried are no less loved by me than those who are married.”

Tuki bent forward and, straining slightly, removed a rock from the wall, right near the gate. For a moment he wondered what to do with it, before passing out into the square. The crowd divided before him. In the centre of the square he placed the stone carefully on the ground. He started to return to his position behind Meledrin but, after a moment of indecision, stopped by her side instead.

“The skyglass was never supposed to be used to control the moai. It was a gift for all to share. But now you must all go forward together, without the skyglass.”

One final gasp from the crowd as Kim handed the second glass ball to Tuki. Tuki quickly turned it off.

“But the skyglass tells us—”

“It tells you nothing you do not already know...”

<Dosa,> Tuki whispered quickly.

“Dosa.”

“Poti, we—”

“I must return to the sky. And you must look to yourselves, to see how you will live your lives in the future.” Kim started to leave and Tuki and Meledrin followed close behind. <How are those trolls going?> Kim asked.

<You don’t wants some trolls, does you?> the stranger replied.

<What?>

<I gots me a pack.> Whoever he was seemed amused by the idea.

<Well, what would I do with a pack of trolls?>

Tuki didn’t like the idea of Scree and his friend joining the crew when nobody really knew who they were. But a whole pack of trolls as well... But all he knew about trolls was what the humans at Payota had said and he knew that they had been wrong about a lot of other things.

Kim and Scree spoke a bit more before the troll said, <Trolls is good at fighting and if you got bigger problems then I may need some help.>

Tuki nodded slightly— that was a good point. The ship was built to carry many people— surely it must be that way for a reason. He adjusted the strap around his head.

And then the Hakahei had a whole pack of trolls for crew as well. He would trust Kim’s decision and hope she was right.

As he walked behind Meledrin, Tuki looked back and saw that the moai gathered in the square had divided into two groups. One group was staying put, watching as some of their number, all men, started to tear down the wall to make a pile of stones where Tuki had left his own stone. The others were following Kim.

The procession made its way through the trees and out into the sun beside the Lander. The ship had thrown much of the area surrounding the Lander into shadow and many moai were already gathered there waiting. The stranger was nowhere in sight. Tuki half hoped he was lost somewhere.

“Poti? Mo’ma?”

“Yes, Inaki, what is it?”

“What is heaven like, mo’ma?”

“It is... Tuki?”

Tuki looked at Kim, who was looking at him, and realized she wanted him to answer the question. He looked upwards. “Mo’ma. Inaki. Heaven is the most amazing place. The desert no longer feels like home for me, though I have only known heaven for a few hours.”

Inaki nodded as he stared upwards too. “Thank you, Tuki. Mo’ma, is there room in heaven for more moai?”

“There is room in heaven for every moai, Inaki. But that is not what you mean, is it? You mean is there room in heaven for you, right now.”

Tuki saw Kim examining the skyglasses that he held and knew what she was thinking. Two glasses, two moai. She was possibly also thinking of the stranger and the trolls.

<Anyone can use the glass once it is plugged in, mo’min. Kim,> Tuki said softly.

<But still, the moai were made for the task. You can show Inaki how to work the controls while we return...> She took a deep breath, “Inaki, what Tuki says is correct. Heaven is the most amazing place there is, and there is room there for you now. But it would not be like you expect. It is not perfect—”

“How can heaven not be perfect, mo’ma?”

Kim paused for a moment more and seemed to give it some thought. “Because perfection for humans and moai and all the other races in heaven has nothing to do with a lack of flaws. Heaven for all of those people is a place where they can try to be better.”

“Yes, mo’ma. I understand.”

Tuki, with a skyglass in each hand and Keala somewhere at his back, understood. He doubted Inaki really did.

“I would like to go, mo’ma, if you would take me.”

“Inaki, I—”

“I would like to go as well, mo’ma.” Another go’gan stepped forward, trying to keep his gaze above the ground.

And a third moai raced forward. Okalani, a mo’by— an unmarried woman. “Aka’mu!” she said, coming to a halt by the go’gan’s side.

As he watched the two of them, Tuki wondered how he would react if Keala was to rush to him in the same manner. He looked around, but could not see her in the growing crowd.

“You can both come, if you want. But you must make up your minds quickly.”

The two of them looked at each other, and it seemed the decision was made.

“We are leaving now,” Kim said to the crowd. “But we will return. If you do not all live as one by that time, men and women, married and unmarried, I cannot say how I will react. But you do not want to see it happen.”

With that she moved quickly, without hurrying, around to the rear of the Lander. Tuki followed. When he looked inside the large back door and saw the trolls he stopped. Even though he was expecting to see them, he was still shocked. There were seven on each side of the little craft and five packed in the aisle. They all looked fierce. There were several semi-naked women among them and Tuki blushed furiously. When he discovered that he would be forced to sit in a vacant seat beside one of those women...

He clenched the two skyglasses tighter, but they were about the same size as... as... That just made him blush all the more. The trolls squashed up and Meledrin took her seat as if the dirty, hulking figures were nothing more than she expected. Kim shook her head and sidled through to the front, cursing all the while about her burnt feet and something called deodorant. The two seats in the driver’s section were taken.

“You’re Scree?”

Scree was a troll? He certainly looked similar to those sitting in the back.

“Yeah. This is Ping.”

Tuki could only just see a tiny woman, barley half Scree’s size, squeezed beside the troll’s seat.

“Well Scree, you’re in my seat,” Kim said.

“I saw you fly out of the big ship.”

“You think you can do better?”

The troll didn’t answer. “We all in?” he asked. “Bloody moai holding us up.”

The three newest recruits stood near the door, on the outside, and it looked like that was as far as they would go.

“There are all types in heaven,” Tuki told them, surprised he could even speak. He stole a glance at the troll woman by his side. “All types.”

The moai finally, nervously, climbed aboard and stood in the aisle, gripping handles above their heads.

Tuki watched as the troll maneuvered the Lander with much more confidence than Kim had earlier.

26: All the Stars

Ping trailed behind the crowd as it surged up the stairs. The four moai hung back as well, seemingly as nervous about the raucous, muscled mob as she was herself.

“You’re name is Ping?”

Ping looked at the moai named Tuki and nodded.

“It might be best if you came up to the bridge so you can strap yourself in. Kim has not...” Tuki blushed slightly and looked at his silent companions. “There are monsters in the sky above us and it might be difficult to reach orbit.”

Ping nodded though she didn’t really understand what the moai had said. She understood most of the words but... “Very well.”

Tuki did not go to the stairs. Instead, he went to a small room close by and, when everyone was inside, pushed a button on the wall. The doors closed and Ping felt a lurch of motion.

“What’s happening?”

“This room is called a lift. It carried us up and down so we don’t have to climb the stairs.”

“Why didn’t...” Ping remembered the two parallel conversations Scree had translated for her. She glanced at the other moai. “Why didn’t Poti use it?”

Tuki shrugged. “I do not understand half the things she does.”

Ping nodded. She knew what it was like to have a companion like that. She glanced at the two skyglasses held by Tuki and then at the other moai again. “So all that she did in the village was to get that?”

Tuki nodded though he too glanced at Inaki, Aka’mu and Okalani.

The bridge, at the very top of the ship, was seemingly filled with trolls. They were a loud, ever shifting mob that Scree was trying to get into some seats arranged around the front of the room. He was shouting. It looked as if Kim had been shouting just a short while ago though she was now sitting quietly in a chair raised up above all the others. She seemed relieved when Tuki arrived.

“Where have you been,” she said, as if he’d been gone an hour. “We need a skyglass to get out of here.”

Tuki blushed again and headed for a chair near the entrance. He placed one of the skyglasses into a depression on the desk before him. A moment later, Ping felt the ship start to vibrate slightly, then she felt her stomach lurch as it had when the lift had started to rise not long before. And they were flying, heading straight upward, racing towards the clouds. The trolls finally fell silent.

“I suggest you sit down,” Kim said into the stillness. “Things could get hairy very soon.”

Ping saw Tuki fastening a strap around his waist and decided that it might be wise to do as Kim suggested. ‘As long as you give orders worth following,’ Scree had said. As she hurried to a seat as far as possible from everyone else, Ping looked at the troll. She found it hard to believe that he would so easily give his life into the hands of a stranger. But she had long ago decided that Scree was no fool and also that trolls did whatever was best for themselves. Perhaps in this case that meant relinquishing control.

Ping was struggling with the strap, trying to work out the buckle, when two huge hands, each with three fingers and a thumb, reached past her to assist. She jumped, shied away, but could go nowhere. She looked over her shoulder and saw a monster, flat ugly face devoid of emotion, close to her ear.

She screamed and the little noise that had remained in the room stopped completely.

The monster jumped back, hands raised, and scurried across to the nearest wall.

“What is that... What is that doing here?” Ping asked. She stared up at Kim, now struggling to unclip the buckle she had been struggling to do up a moment earlier.

“That is Cuto,” the slim, tall woman sitting down from Kim said.

Ping turned to look at the alien for a moment. “It has a name?” Ping tried to remember the name of the woman— she had been down in the village with Kim earlier. Meledrin.

Meledrin nodded. “Yes. Cuto is not an exact pronunciation— the exact pronunciation is painful— but is close enough.” She waved her arms elaborately as she spoke.

Ping ceased her battle with the buckle. Everyone was looking at her. “Scree?”

“Whats?”

“Are you just going to sit there?”

The troll’s eyes narrowed as he gave the question some thought. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well...”

“Kim knows Cuto is here and she ain’t worried. Why should I be worried? I don’t know nothing about anything, so I’m gunna do what I was told— sit down and hold on.”

Ping shrank back in her seat and looked at the monster again. It looked strange and ugly, but she had to admit that without the armor it did not appear all that threatening. Neither that, nor Scree’s lack of concern, made her feel any better. Keeping one eye on the creature, she tried to relax.

“So what do trolls normally do, exactly?”

Ping looked around to see who had spoken. A little man, with a beard and mechanical hand, was sitting at a seat on the far side of the room. He didn’t look up from his desk as he spoke.

“What does you mean?” Scree was watching the sky as he spoke. Ping watched as well. They plunged into a cloud. For a moment all that could be seen was a blanket of white, then they broke through into the clear again.

“What’s your specialty?”

“Ummm...” Scree looked around at the other trolls for a moment. Then he glanced towards Ping. “I don’t know.”

Ping didn’t know what the little man really meant by the question, but she thought she knew the answer.

Kim joined the conversation then, though she kept her concentration on her task. “You said trolls were best at fighting, Scree. Back in Danyon Ford.”

“Maybe.”

The little man grunted. “So maybe we should get one of them to sit at the weapons’ console.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Keeble.”

Keeble shook his head. “The trolls must be a part of the six tribes, or whatever they were.”

“What? Why’s that?” Kim finally looked down.

“They must be. They were on one of the Hakahei worlds and they are too similar to us to be unrelated, surely.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Of course we don’t. When has that stopped us?”

“Be that as it may,” Kim continued, “we can’t just shove one of the trolls in the seat and let them loose. They come from a primitive world and—”

“Scree can drive— I think he does it better than you— so he obviously knows something.”

“Not now, Keeb’. We don’t want to kill anyone anyway, remember.”

“What we want and what might get us through the next few minutes aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

The ship and its occupants were not quite what Ping had been expecting. She didn’t know exactly what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. It seemed they were fighting amongst themselves as much as they were fighting the monsters. And they had one of the monsters roaming free around the ship. And Scree had told the other trolls there were worse enemies than the monsters anyway. She didn’t know what to think so she decided not to think at all. Ping turned away from the conversation to look out the huge window at the front of the ship again. The sky was starting to peel way, blue becoming purple becoming black. And stars were starting to shine, far brighter than they had been from the surface of the planet during the night.

Ping looked up at Kim. “Are all the stars worlds?” she asked.

It was Tuki who answered. “Some of them. Some of them are suns with more than one world.”

“But there are thousands of stars.”

Tuki nodded. “Not all suns have worlds. Not all worlds have life. And there are more than thousands of stars. There are many that are too far away to see.”

Ping swallowed and looked out at the stars. They were beautiful, a tapestry of light the Jugglers of Jilin could stand on to juggle the worlds. But when she had a moment to think, when she wasn’t running along in Scree’s wake, the worlds she had seen were more than enough. She was scared by the thought of thousands more, with any number of unknown creatures. How many would be like the zorigami and how many like trolls? And how many would not be people at all? How many would be monsters with colorful skin and the wrong number of fingers?

“The kil’ini are coming, Kim,” Tuki said. “They are coming quickly.”

Kim and Tuki were both working again. The ship spun around so it was facing back the way they had come. At the same time an image appeared up near the curved ceiling. The image wobbled for a moment, one way then the next, then a small, indistinct spot in the middle suddenly grew to fill the dome. It was shaped something like a fish though it was rough and lumpy and finished in a four-finned tail. The surface was green and rubbery looking and covered with dozens more fins that rippled with movement. And between the fins were muscled holes. Three big red eyes followed the Hakahei’s progress and three tentacles trailed out behind.

Another creature came up beside the first though it didn’t look the same. It was smaller and darker in color. The holes and fins seemed to be scattered randomly.

“That’s a kil’ini?” Ping asked. “But... What is it?” And how had the picture appeared? Ping wasn’t sure if it was machines or magic that made all the strange things possible.

The monster, still against the wall behind Ping, said something in a rough, growling voice. He waved his hands as well.

Meledrin spoke a moment later. “Cuto has answered you, Ping. Cuto states that the kil’ini are creatures who have chosen to carry the hurgon between the stars.”

“The monsters ride inside them?”

Meledrin sniffed. “I do not think monster is an appropriate term, Ping. The hurgon are alien to us, but that does not make them monsters.”

“But they attacked us for no reason.”

“They did not. They are merely continuing a war we started with them many thousands of years ago.”

“The zorigami do not know how to fly between the stars.”

“If the zorigami were attacked as the rest of our peoples were then it is possible they flew between the stars long ago.”

Ping sat back to watch the image. Other kil’ini were appearing. And there was one, hardly more than an indistinct spot, visible out the window as well. Then five were visible, racing closer.

“Ten kilometers per second,” Kim said and Ping gaped at her. Ten kilometers a second? It hardly felt like they were moving at all. “How are the batteries going, Keeble?”

“Two hours at this speed.”

“Right.”

Cuto said something and Meledrin translated. “Kim, Cuto states that the kil’ini will be unable to keep up in this universe but will catch us easily if they skim.”

“What’s skimming?”

Meledrin asked the monster. Cuto.

“Cuto states that there are actually gaps between all the universes. The kil’ini can enter these gaps using almost no energy at all, but can stay only seconds before the energy bounces them out again closer to their destination. Then they merely go back in immediately and repeat the process.

“Right. Great. Batteries, Keeble?”

“An hour at this speed.”

“Well, we’re at 20 kilometers a second, so this is all the speed we’ve got.”

Twenty kilometers a second? Ping swallowed.

“The kil’ini will catch us in fifteen minutes, Kim,” Tuki said, working at the buttons on his console.

“Cuto states that it may not be a concern. The kil’ini have been tasked with guarding the planet and may choose not to follow.”

But they did follow, appearing and disappearing, again and again. And each time they reappeared they were considerably closer.

It was a terrible feeling, watching as the creatures came closer and not being able to do anything other than sit and wait.

“Where’s this weapon chair?” Scree asked as he watched as well. Ping thought it strange that he might also be growing more tense as the kil’ini approached.

Ping looked up and saw Kim looking at the troll, as if trying to decide if she should tell him. Eventually she reached a decision and gave a slight nod. “It’s that big ball behind you. You can have a play and see what you can learn, but don’t shoot at any kil’ini unless I say.”

Scree looked back at her as if giving her orders some consideration. He nodded as well then unbuckled his belt and moved to the ball beside Tuki. There was a seat inside and a moment later he was strapping himself in.

After thirty seconds of quiet concentration, Scree picked a switch and the dome around the chair darkened. Small points of light, like stars, sprang into being on the surface as the gap left for the door closed. Then he sat and stared again before starting to play with the controls. Eventually he did something to make his chair inside the sphere rotated.

“Why the hell does the chair do that?” Kim asked nobody in particular.

Tuki answered quietly. “Enemies can come from all directions, Kim. Whoever is firing the weapons must be able to see all directions as well, no matter which direction the ship is facing.”

Though he knew how to see, it took some time for the troll to work out what to do next. Ping saw the moment when he realized. If his hands were busy with all of the controls, then he must fire the weapons with his feet...

And he did, firing out into empty space.

“Don’t, Scree.” Kim said.

“I’m not hitting anything,” he complained.

“I know but they might think you’re trying to.”

Ping wasn’t sure what she wanted. The hurgon had killed all her friends. They had destroyed the Great Clock. No matter what Kim said, she could not help but think of them as the enemy, and she doubted she would ever think otherwise. In some ways she wanted Scree to fire at the kil’ini and kill them all. But at the same time, they were magnificent creatures, like none she had ever seen or imagined before. She sighed when Scree spun the seat and fired away from the planet, where there was no risk of hitting anything at all.

It wasn’t long before he moved on to other controls.

Ping turned away and watched the three dimensional image above her with growing dread as the kil’ini caught up.

“The kil’ini has fired a weapon at us,” Tuki said.

Ping didn’t know how he knew. She had not seen anything change.

“Is it like the monster...” She looked back at Cuto, then at Meledrin. “Is it like the hurgon guns.”

Kim replied with a shake of her head. But by then Ping could see it in the image as well, a metal ball coming towards them, racing ahead of the kil’ini.

“Five more have fired.”

“Are they like the things the bats drop?” She remembered the balls of fire engulfing Shadon, destroying her life and the lives of her people. Nobody answered. There was no need. She clung to the arm of her seat.

“Scree you can turn the shields on,” Keeble said. “I think we’ll need them.”

“Where? Hows?”

Out the window, a blue sheen appeared, like a mist that clung close to the ship. Ping didn’t understand how it could possibly work— more magic for all she knew— and watched out the window with her heart in her mouth as she waited to see the bomb approach. But before anything was visible at all, Kim spun the bridge away from the planet, protecting it behind the bulk of the ship, and all the eyes in the room transferred to the image above.

The bomb exploded when it hit the shields, a flare of brightness that was gone in a moment. A tracery of blue veins flickered around the outside of the ship like lightning then they were gone too.

“That didn’t seem so bad,” Ping said softly, looking around to see how everyone else was reacting.

“Shield integrity dropped,” Keeble said, working at his controls.

“What?” Kim asked.

Another three bombs impacted before he could answer.

“Down to 75% integrity,” he said into the silence that followed.

“With just four bombs?”

“You didn’t think this was a real military ship, remember,” Keeble said. “Maybe we’re supposed to run away before we get hit. Or maybe the shields are faulty.”

“Stinking lot of good that does.”

“More missiles coming,” Tuki said softly. “Ten of them. Twelve. Fifteen. The missiles are different, I think. They are a different color, though I don’t know what that means.”

“Shit.”

“Sorry Kim, another five have fired. Twenty missiles heading towards us. Twenty-five. We...” He paused and looked up from his screens for the first time. For the first time, Ping realized that the moai was actually younger than she was. He suddenly looked like a boy, hoping his mother would solve all his problems. “What should we do?”

Apparently Kim didn’t know. She looked at the image and said nothing. But if mother could not fix it, perhaps father could. Scree’s seat came alive again, spinning to face the bottom of the ship, where the aliens were positioned. He started firing, but like the armored hurgon, the creatures didn’t die easily. He used two guns, firing constantly, and the seat spun one way and the next. It made Ping sick just to watch.

“Scree what are you doing?”

“You want to die here because you think the people trying to kill us ain’t our enemy?”

Twenty seconds later the closest ship exploded and a few seconds after that green blood sent energy sparking along the shields. Chunks of meat sizzled and fried. Scree had already shifted aim and kept firing. His seat shifted and twisted and spun. When the second creature exploded, the others retreated a little, but not very far. They continued firing.

The new missiles did not seem to be constructed at all. Green globules came from various parts of the kil’ini bodies, all heading directly for the Hakahei without fail.

“Them spitting at us,” one of the trolls said.

The first of the green missiles hit.

“Shields at 50 percent,” Keeble said.

Cuto spoke, startling Ping, and Meledrin translated. “Cuto states that the second, lesser missiles are used to weaken the shields. They are not as powerful, but plentiful. The constructed missiles will be used again once we are without protection.”

“Thirty missiles approaching.”

More struck in quick succession and Ping was sure she felt the ship lurch one way and then the next. Or perhaps it was just her heart.

“30 percent.”

Another kil’ini exploded. And after that, Scree changed tactics. He continued to fire at the creatures with one gun, but used the other to hit the missiles. Five splattered a long way out from the ship leaving behind a quickly dispersing green mist. But the troll was not quick enough.

“There are four more weapons chairs down stairs,” Keeble said.

“Where?” Six trolls jumped to their feet.

Keeble was working furiously. “Take the first set of stairs. Go through the door on your right, then right again.”

“Do you know how to use them?” Kim asked. But the trolls were already gone.

Another flicker of blue outside. And another.

“I’ve transferred all the power I can into the shields,” Keeble said. “They’re at 40 percent. Two hours until full charge on the batteries.”

More missiles and Keeble swore. “Twenty percent.”

Then the trolls who had raced down stairs were firing as well. It did not surprise Ping that they could work the weapons. Even as they watched the approach of the kil’ini earlier, they had probably been watching Scree as well, taking in everything like he did himself.

But even when all five weapons were working in unison there were too many aliens and too many missiles.

“Shields 10 percent.”

Ping looked from Keeble to Kim. It was obvious the woman was only just keeping control of herself.

“There’s too many,” Scree said fiercely. “Can’t you dodge or something?”

Kim didn’t reply immediately. “No. Not really.”

“Flayed kittens.”

There was a beeping noise. It didn’t stop and outside the blue mist of the shields faded away to nothing.

“Shields are gone,” Keeble said.

Ping didn’t really think that needed to be said.

“What happens now?” Scree asked.

Nobody answered.

More and more of the green globules were hitting the hull though they didn’t seem to do much. Ping thought she could hear them sizzling like acid. She was probably imagining it.

Scree cheered as another alien died spectacularly.

“They are firing the constructed missiles again,” Tuki said.

Ping couldn’t believe he sounded so calm. She turned to look.

“We’re screwed,” Kim said. “Shit. We’re screwed.”

The trolls didn’t think so. They kept firing constantly, knocking out missiles and, occasionally, kil’ini as well. Hardly anything was getting through, but Ping didn’t know how long they could keep it up.

But the hurgon and the ships weren’t stupid.

Another two dozen missiles exploded, all well away from the ship.

Then the aliens started spitting again.

The green globules escorted the larger, deadlier missiles toward the Hakahei. It took the trolls four or five shots to blast the spit out of the way, and by that time it often too late.

Scree grunted as he continued to fire.

A missile struck. And another.

“Hull split in two places but not breached,” Keeble said. “How do I turn off these warning lights?”

Another missiles struck and the ship started to spin, like the errant balls of the Jugglers of Jilin. Scree didn’t stop firing at the kil’ini as his seat automatically adjusted to the ship’s movement.

But in the next few moments Ping noticed the focus of the kil’ini changing.

So did Scree. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked as the kil’ini he was targeting turned and disappeared.

Everyone else was examining the image in the dome overhead as Tuki changed the image to include the world they’d fled.

“The multeese,” Tuki said.

Ping had no idea what Tuki meant, but apparently Kim did.

“What? Where?”

But that seemed obvious enough to Ping. There was a ship— it seemed to be a long way away but if that was the case it was huge.

“It’s killing the hurgon,” Scree said. “Look at that. It’s like they swatting flies.”

“Yeah,” Kim replied. “It does that.”

“These the ones you was talking about?”

Kim nodded. “The multeese.”

“Batteries charged in half an hour,” Keeble said.

“Keeble, do the batteries charge when the power is off?”

“Yes.”

Kim took a deep breath. “Right, I’m cutting the power then. Hopefully they haven’t noticed us. Or they forget about us?”

Ping couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Hopefully they forget about us?” she said.

Kim shrugged. “They did last time. They seem to have a short attention span.”

Ping shook her head.

“If they chase us we’re dead, Ping. Let’s hope they forget us.”

So when Kim turned off the power Ping sat silently in the dark and waited. It seemed like a crazy way to fight.

27: Ruins in the Desert

Tuki did not know why he had to explain. He was not the one who lied to them. But Kim had bestowed the rank of Lieutenant upon him, whatever that meant, and told him that his first task was to tell Inaki, Aka’mu and Okalani the truth. And to make them understand.

“When Kim... the mo’ma... said that heaven would not be what you expected she... Well, there is no heaven.” But before he even finished the sentence he knew that was the wrong thing to say. And he did not believe it was true. The others voiced their disapproval at his words and he held up a forestalling hand. “Sorry, of course there is a heaven, but we are not from there. We are not going there now.”

“But...”

“And the mo’ma... is not Poti. She is just a human.”

“What do you mean, Tuki?”

Tuki did not know how to explain. He looked across at Meledrin, but the elf was sitting in the too bright light of a lamp reading one of the old books while she waited for the battery to charge. She paid him no mind.

When Kim wandered in, Tuki shifted his attention to her but she shook her head before he could even ask.

“The mo’ma is just a human, like Ko’uka said. And this is not a magical...” He had no word for vehicle that they would understand. “This is not a magical... vessel... we are in. It is a machine.” But they did not understand ‘machine’ either.

“What are you trying to tell us?”

If he could explain that... “The globe we are in is made by men, it allows us to travel between the stars.” Obvious, really. “But that is all it does. It allows us to travel very quickly. And the stars are worlds and suns.”

“We know all of this, Tuki.”

“Yes, but... The worlds and stars are not messages from the Mother Blower. They are controlled by gravity, and nothing more.”

“But the skyglass...”

“They were made by men as well, many thousands of years ago. They let us point the sphere in the right direction, so we can travel to the other stars.”

He knew they understood all the words.

“So we can read the Mother Blower’s message more clearly?” Okalani smiled and nodded to her bewildered companions. The two go’gan were willing to latch on to anything at that point and a lifetime of experience meant a woman’s suggestions were even more welcome.

Tuki shook his head and sighed. “In the world of humans the villages are spread out everywhere, not just along one line like the Dry River. Go one way and you will get to one village, go a different way and you can go straight to another village, without going through the first village.”

“Like the ruins in the desert?”

“Yes. The villages can be anywhere. So the humans draw pictures of the land and mark on it the villages and the hills and the paths. So even if you have never been to a village, you will be able to find it.”

“Can you not just get somebody to tell you which direction it is in?” Inaki asked, scratching at the back of his tattooed hand.

Tuki sighed again. “Yes, but what if the villages moved?”

“But they can not.”

“What if they could, Inaki?”

“Then a picture would not help.”

Tuki held up the skyglass. “What if the picture could move as well?”

The three moai looked at the glass ball. It was Aka’mu who spoke first. “So... the stars are villages? And the skyglass is a picture that shows you how to get there?”

“Yes. The picture is called a map and this is a star map.” Finally, he thought they understood.

“How does it work?”

Tuki shrugged slightly. “We do not really know for sure.”

“And the mo’ma?”

“Her name is Kim. She comes from a world called Earth.” Tuki called up the Sol system in the skyglass and showed them. He pointed to Earth. “It is many kilometers from Kiva.”

“How many?”

He calculated in his head. “Nearly 663 trillion kilometers.”

“Trillion?”

“In base ten, a trillion had twelve zeros after it.”

“That is many kilometers,” Okalani said. Inaki and Aka’mu just stared.

“Yes. It is many.”

Okalani examined the ‘glass, reaching out hesitantly to take it when Tuki offered it to her. “The skyglass is a map and Kim is not the Mother Blower... But are you sure that the Mother Blower, the real Mother Blower, did not give us the map?”

“She did not. Humans and moai all come from the same people and the same place, and it was that original people who made the skyglass. Speak the name of a star or a constellation, Okalani.”

The mo’by did as she was instructed and gasped in delight when the image changed to the Archer constellation. “The mo’ma lied to you, Tuki.”

“Kim lied, yes, but only because she—”

“No, her world is not called Earth. It is called Atlantis. What other lies might she have told?”

“How do you know what it is called?”

“All the stars here are named.” She pointed to the little boxes beside the stars.

Tuki struggled to read the writing, sounding out each little symbol. The mo’by was right. “So?”

“So I read the words beside the world you pointed to and at said ‘Atlantis’. I did not know what it meant at the time.”

“Kim did not lie about that,” Tuki replied eventually. “All the people on the world call it Earth. The name must have changed since the skyglass was made.”

“I do not know Tuki. Perhaps you should—”

“She did not lie, Okalani.” The mo’by was angry when Tuki cut her off. A week ago he would never have done such a thing. He swallowed and quickly tried to turn her attention to other matters. “You can move in closer on the skyglass, or further out, without naming a constellation,” he said. He gave Okalani the commands that would increase and decrease the scale, and scroll in the various directions.

Okalani would have kept the ‘glass to herself, but Tuki made her pass it to the two go’gan. The three of them played for half an hour, passing the ball back and forth, changing images, moving them. Tuki was still as much in awe of the ‘glass as they were, but tried not to show it. And he found that he felt a little bit jealous watching them play, but contented himself with the fact that his own skyglass was in place on the bridge.

“So, what... What Kim said to the mo’min was not true?” Okalani asked angrily, falling back into the role of female amongst males.

“What she said is correct, Okalani. I am able to use the skyglass. So can Aka’mu and Inaki. According to the mo’min, that should not be possible. And during my pilgrimage I did see something in the sky that changed direction. It was not a meteor, but one of the kil’ini, and the mo’min denied its presence.”

“The mo’min must watch over all the moai of Danyon Ford. Perhaps she had her reasons for saying what she did. Perhaps she was unsure what the message meant and needed time to think and consult the skyglass.”

Tuki shook his head. “Perhaps if she asked the men for help occasionally she would not have to do that.”

Kim entered the mess hall again, looking around to see who was present.

“We’re ready to jump, Tuki. Keeble and Cuto have gotten the Ohoga engines aligned.”

“So we are returning to Nexis?”

Kim shook her head. “Slight detour. We’re going to Sherindel— Keeble and Mel’s world.”

“But why? I thought we needed to...”

“Yes, I know. We need to get the Americans flying so they can help us, but they won’t be able to do anything without a dwarf or two to look after things. And like the troll said, we need more people ourselves.”

“How far is it to Sherindel? How long will that take us?”

Kim shrugged. “You’re the expert, you tell me.”

Tuki turned back to the skyglass, held tightly in Aka’mu’s hand. While Okalani was still pouting, Aka’mu and Inaki were watching him with undisguised wonder. A woman, Poti or not, admitting that a man knew more. And not just any man— a go’gan, hardly a man at all.

Tuki gave a small smile. I am the expert.

He took the skyglass and found Sherindel. But that on its own told him nothing. He needed to go to the bridge to use the ship’s computer.

“We are going now?”

“Yes. As soon as you’re ready.”

“Very well.” Tuki turned back to his companions. “The power will be coming on for a short while, but after that it will be dark again.”

“How long for?” Inaki asked.

“I do not know, yet. It depends on how far we must jump— it will be many hours though. After we have started, I will come back and tell you.”

“Very well.” They all knew where the lamps were and had seen them started.

Tuki nodded to them, wondering if there was anything else he should say. A couple of weeks ago his main responsibilities were gardening and doing whatever a mo’shi asked of him. Now he was making decisions for everyone and teaching others as well. It was hard to get used to.

With a shrug he made his way to the lift and up to Level 1. Then up to the bridge.

Tuki nodded to Kim as he settled in his seat and worked out what he needed to do.

“Are we ready?” Kim asked. “Once I turn the power on the multeese will be able to see us if they’re still around.” She took a deep breath. If that’s the case I’ll be trying to organize a jump as quickly as possible.”

Tuki swallowed and nodded.

But when Kim turned on the ship there was no sign of the huge alien ship.

Tuki breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s not waste any time though,” Kim said. “Just in case.”

So Tuki started to work. He brought up their current location, and then made the computer show both that and the world of Sherindel at the same time. There was a lot of space between. Forty-five light-years. And in the wrong direction— they would be traveling further from Nexis. That was not for him to worry about. Kim wanted to go to Sherindel.

While he worked, Kim brought the ship to a complete halt so she could more easily point it in the right direction.

Tuki wanted to do the calculations in his head. The computer could do them easily, but he liked doing the difficult sums and then using the computer to see how close he was. But Kim was rightly keen to leave the area a quickly as possible so he pressed the buttons that would do all the work. A moment later he told Kim which direction to turn and she started her part of the process.

When the ship was pointing the right direction there was a beep. “That is it, mo’min. Kim.”

“Right. And how far is it?”

“It is 45.14 light-years.”

“Well, not as bad as last time, I suppose. “

“The trip back to Nexis will be approximately seventy-five.”

“Seventy-five? Damn. Well, what am I setting the timer for now?”

“That depends, mo’min.”

“What are our options?”

“Well, one jump of 29 hours fifteen minutes if we start at twenty kilometers a second. Or two jumps of approximately ten hours forty-one minutes, plus two hours. Or three jumps of 6 and a half hours plus four hours.”

“So, two jumps then...”

“Well, doing three jumps will also allow us to get closer to Sherindel with the final jump, so we will spend less time traveling once we get there. Also, we will have an extra two hours in the middle in which we can do things.”

“Hmmm... Three jumps it is then. Let’s do it.”

Tuki looked at her. “You are the one with the timer, mo’min.”

“Right. Of course.”

Tuki strapped himself into his seat and watched out the view port a minute later as the shifting silvery sheen of the gate appeared. Five seconds later darkness descended.

#

Tuki stood at the door to the mess hall without saying anything. The three moai sitting at the table did not notice him and continued to talk quietly.

“Tuki said it would be dark, Okalani, there is nothing to worry about,” Inaki said. But he did not look completely calm himself.

“It could be dark for many reasons.” Tuki could only see the back of the mo’by’s head— her black hair moved as she divided her glance between her two companions. “Tuki is...”

“Tuki is a go’gan? Not any more, Okalani. He is something else now. We all are. We do not have to listen to what you say any more.”

Tuki did not think that sounded very good. Everyone was supposed to be equal— men and women. Inaki was acting as if he was suddenly better than Okalani, or had more rights than she. Tuki cleared his throat and the three of them turned to look at him.

“Nobody said you do not have to listen to what Okalani says, Inaki,” Tuki said, walking into the room and taking a seat at the table. “You have to listen, but you do not have to do as she says simply because she is a woman.”

Aka’mu nodded his head, seemingly happy to forego the difficult task of choosing sides and sticking in the middle. But apparently that was not a simple option either. “But how do we know what is right?” he asked. “Before...”

“Before we could just ask a woman and she would tell us what was right?”

Aka’mu nodded.

And Tuki didn’t know. Just because Kim said men and women were equal, did that make it so?

“The mo’min was in charge in Danyon ford,” Okalani said, sitting up straighter and straightening her robe. “And Kim is in charge here. It is obvious women are better.”

For a moment, Tuki thought she was right. What proof did he have otherwise? But Okalani was using Kim in her equation to prove that women were right and women were better. “If women are better,” he said, “then who are we to argue with Kim? She says we are equal.”

“But—”

“I can use the skyglass, Okalani.” She did not like being interrupted the second time any more than she had the first. Tuki hurried on. “Inaki and Aka’mu can use the skyglass. Would we be able to do that if what Kim said is wrong?”

Okalani did not reply. She studied her hands where they lay on the table. Aka’mu was studying her. He shifted slightly in his chair, as if suddenly re-examining their relationship. Would she like him as much if he could disagree with her?

“You said you would tell us how long it would be dark, Tuki,” Okalani said eventually.

“Yes. It will be for nearly six and a half hours.”

“Is there somewhere I can sleep?”

“Yes, I will show you.”

“Very well.” She rose and went to the door. Tuki collected a lamp and hurried to catch up.

28: Clocks

Ping couldn’t help but follow when she heard Keeble say he was going to have a look at the clocks. There were clocks on the ship? But Cuto followed as well, so she trailed a long way behind, following him down seemingly endless flights of stairs, and almost missed when they finally exited. Ping found them in the middle of a large room with workstations in the middle of the room and around the walls. There were also cabinets and storage boxes in every available space.

When Ping arrived the dwarf already had a drawer open and was pulling out books and folders. She stopped near the door, chewing her fingernail and watching nervously.

The alien said something and Keeble looked up.

“What are you doing?” the dwarf asked shortly.

“I was hoping to watch you fix the clock.” She took a step forward but glanced at Cuto and stopped.

“Well, you can’t help.”

Ping didn’t say anything. She hadn’t really expected to be allowed to help. And she didn’t know if she would be able to anyway as everything on the ship seemed so far ahead of anything she had seen before. But she stayed where she was, watching Keeble and Cuto as they poured over the books.

“It’s only losing a second every hour,” Keeble muttered, “it can’t be that hard to fix.”

Ping almost said something, but remained silent at the last moment. Keeble looked up anyway and saw her standing with her mouth still open.

“What?”

Ping shrugged. If a clock was losing time it could be one of a thousand things. A regular clock, anyway. She didn’t know about the ones on starships.

“If you don’t have anything to say then don’t stand there looking like you’re going to say something.”

Cuto said something and waved his arms about. Keeble grunted in reply. “I doubt we’ll get if fixed anyway,” he said before sighing and, after three seconds of head scratching thought, waving a hesitant reply.

More arm waving from Cuto, more head scratching from Keeble. Then a verbal and halting visual reply all at once. “I know but she’s standing there. I can’t concentrate.”

“I could help,” Ping said.

Keeble laughed. “What do you know about clocks?”

“I was a member of a clock making club. I was working on the Elephant Tower clock. But they were just normal clocks, with gears and levers and...”

“You were a clock maker?”

Pip nodded. “I was an apprentice.”

“You were only an apprentice?”

Ping nodded, chewing on her thumbnail. Keeble shook his head and went back to looking through his books and files. After three and a half minutes Keeble sighed and slammed shut his book.

“There’s two clocks and both of them are faulty.”

“There are two?”

“Everything has a backup. There’s two gravity drives and two Ohoga engines.”

“What are the clocks used for?”

“They are a backup for the electronic clocks, I think, but more importantly, they are timers. They count down when we are in this universe to open the gate so we can leave.”

“Electronic clocks?” Ping had no idea what they might be.

“They’re working fine, as far as I know. Our main problem with fixing the regular clocks is that the computers don’t work in this universe so it will be very difficult to diagnose the problem. We may have to wait, in the end.”

“Right.” Ping nodded and moved further into the room. She kept a close eye on Cuto but the alien made no threatening moves. “And both of the clocks are faulty?”

“The one we’re using is losing time and the other one is completely buggered. I think it’s jammed.”

“Which one are you going to fix?”

Keeble shrugged. “I’m going to try to diagnose the one that’s still running. I won’t be able to fix it seeing it’s being used while we’re in this universe. I don’t know much about clocks anyway so...”

Ping didn’t think that was the best plan. It must have shown on her face.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked angrily.

“The other one will be easier to diagnose and it could actually be fixed. And, the one that is losing time can still be used but if something happens to it...”

“Easier?”

“Big problems are easier to find. They’re more obvious.”

“But not necessarily easier to fix.”

“But you can’t fix the one that’s being used anyway.”

Cuto said something, obviously asking what was being said and Keeble spent four minutes and forty-seven seconds translating. When he was done Cuto replied and Keeble shook his head and went back to his books. It was five minutes before he spoke this time, but it was only to himself. Or perhaps to Cuto. “It could be anywhere,” he muttered.

“Disconnect something in the middle,” Ping said, “then turn it on and see if it is still jammed.”

The dwarf and the alien both looked up.

“And what if it is?”

“Then disconnect another bit in the section that’s jammed and see what happens then. You can narrow down the problem a long way.”

“I knew that.” But he went back to looking through the books. Cuto looked from Keeble to Ping and back again before also turning his attention to the books

“Why is he here?” Ping asked Keeble.

The dwarf looked over his shoulder.

“We rescued Cuto from a prison on Earth. He’s been trying to help us stop the war.” Keeble shook his head. “Except Cuto isn’t a he. The hurgon don’t have different genders, apparently. That’s what Meledrin says, anyway, if you want to believe her.”

Keeble obviously did believe her, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Well, how do they...”

Keeble gave her a shocked look. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know. I’m certainly not going to ask.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Well, don’t. If you’re going to stand there asking stupid questions like a woman you can go somewhere else.”

Ping fell silent and stayed where she was while Keeble spent another ten and a quarter minutes searching through the books and files. Cuto looked over his shoulder and the two of them talked in the sign language before Keeble finally looked up at Ping again. He pursed his lips.

“I’m going to disconnect something,” he said. And with a grunt of disgust he got to his feet, found a toolbox, and stumped from the room with Cuto close behind. Ping didn’t hesitate this time, hurrying to keep up. On the floor above, Cuto started working on an access panel with a screwdriver that seemed tiny in his— its— huge hand. The monster worked with strength, but it seemed to be an inexorable strength unlike Scree’s explosive one.

Soon Cuto and Keeble ducked through into the interior of the clock and started clattering around.

It was four and a half minutes before Ping worked up the courage to poke her head through the hole to look around. She stared. Even perfectly still it was the most intricate, amazing clock she had ever seen. Snapping her mouth shut she looked around for Keeble and Cuto but could not see them anywhere. She climbed into the clock and looked around some more, touching the closest cog, running her finger along the smooth, square edge. She followed from one cog to the next, then along a sprocket to a spring. She followed trails of force and compression, slowly walking deeper into the clock. It was above her and all around her, larger and more complicated by far than any clock she had ever seen, but still just a clock. She could see how it worked— at least, she could see how parts of it worked.

When she stumbled across Cuto and Keeble she immediately saw that the part they were working on would not help. “Ummm...”

“What? You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Disconnecting that won’t help.”

“Of course it will.”

Ping chewed on her thumbnail.

Keeble sighed. “Everything looks the same in here. Gears and springs and... It all looks the same.”

“You don’t look at individual parts. You look at groups, and each one is as different as people.”

“Which one then?”

Ping looked around, cataloguing parts and sections in her mind, and pointed to a cog attached to a coiled spring. “That one there.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, paused, nodded again and watched as Keeble looked at Cuto. The two of them waved their arms for one minute and a twelve seconds then took their tools and moved to the cog Ping had indicated. Six minutes later, she was watching again, standing on her toes so she could peer over Keeble’s shoulder, as the dwarf shifted the lever that would reengage the clock with the main spring. They turned the see the first half of the clock stuttered once then, slowly and smoothly, begin to move.

Ping could not help but marvel. It was just gears and levers and pulleys and springs, turning and pushing and pulling, but to her the movements seemed almost to be a dance, the waltz of time, with each little piece playing its part in a whole that was much greater than the sum of the parts. She did a little dance herself and clapped her hands. “Isn’t it marvelous? I’ve never seen anything like it.” And yet it was just a clock, and as she watched more and more of the design made sense to her. It was still beyond her skills to completely decipher without seeing schematics or looking further, but more and more of the pieces were falling into place in her mind.

Keeble grunted. “Yeah, wonderful.” He scratched his beard and looked about. “So now we know the problem is after the break, right?”

“Right.”

He grunted again. “But look at everything that isn’t moving. There’s still thousands of bits that it could be.”

“So we reconnect the cog and disconnect something further on.”

“This could take hours.”

As far as Ping knew they had hours. “What else are we going to do?” she asked.

“We? I’m the one fixing this. Me and Cuto. You’re just... A consultant.”

Ping didn’t think Keeble liked women very much. Or perhaps it was just her, though he hardly knew her at all. But he didn’t scare her— he was like a grumpy hamster, chittering away but not really threatening at all.

The dwarf went to refit the gear and Ping followed behind with Cuto. “If you don’t know much about clocks, who is supposed to fix them? Where is the rest of the crew?”

“Rest of the crew? We’re it. Me, Kim, Meledrin and Tuki. We’ve only been in the ship for a few hours.”

“What? But..?”

“We were trying to escape from some Americans and found a whole heap of ships in a hangar. Then we had to get them working and Kim had to learn how to fly.”

“But how do you expect to fight the—” she looked at Cuto— “The aliens?”

Keeble shrugged. “We don’t want to fight the hurgon. So Kim says anyway— Cuto here seems friendly enough. It’s those other aliens that are the problem and I don’t think all the ships in the world are going to help.” He paused for a moment, seeming to realize what he was saying. He sighed. “It’s either try or go land somewhere and wait around like a startled rabbit to see what happens.” Job done, Keeble looked around. “Which bit next.”

Ping looked too and pointed. The dwarf set to work.

Perhaps the Hakahei fighting this new threat would be like me fighting the hurgon, Ping thought. She didn’t have a hope until Scree came along. And now Scree had found a whole pack of trolls. Perhaps they would be enough, though Ping had seen the other ship and was worried that Keeble was right. She had escaped one threat, leaving her home and her people behind, only to find herself in a battle against something much worse.

She sighed as well then winced when the dwarf turned the clock on a second time and the huge machine screeched a complaint.

29: Interesting Thoughts

Scree sighed.

Six hours. He was suddenly aware of time like he never had been before. He wondered how Ping felt— she knew time better than she knew anything. Did that make her more or less affected by its tricks? She had already left, trailing after Keeble as he went to fix something or other. Scree couldn’t decide if that was going to work out. Keeble obviously didn’t like women and Ping had no reason to be too keen on men at the moment either.

They’d work it out.

The other trolls were still in their seats but starting to get restless.

Scree could see the moment getting closer. He thought he’d be able to guess the exact moment when...

“Is there somethin’ we can do?” one of them asked.

Up in her seat Kim sat up and gave the matter some though. “There’s a garden down stairs— it’s all dirt at the moment but you could play football or something.”

Scree had no idea what football was and doubted the others did either, but they’d work out something.

“That’ll do.”

All the others left but Scree stayed where he was for the moment. He was supposed to be in charge of the trolls and should probably get to know them and make sure they weren’t going to go around breaking things and killing people because they were bored. But he also wanted to find out something about Kim— what sort of leader was she going to be and was she worth following? And he also wanted to find out about what was going on.

“Six hours,” Scree said out loud after Kim had given the others directions to the garden. It was no better that way.

One lantern in the middle of the floor cast shadows of the lanterns standing nearby. Darkness crouched in the corners and behind the consoles.

Kim sat back and put her feet up. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I gots no real problem with waiting. It just seems strange sitting around for alls that time, doings nothing, and waiting to get somewhere. If I wants to get somewheres I normally just runs.”

Scree watched Kim and guess she was about to make a joke. “You could run if you like. Round and round the gardens. Or there’s a passage that runs around the outside of level 3 that’s probably made for running.”

He grunted. “I didn’t say I liked running.”

“There’s the gym as well.”

“The what?”

“Gym. Gymnasium. It’s a room with machines that help you exercise.”

Scree tried to work out what she meant.

“Machines for exercising? What is wrong with just doing stuff?”

“Well, you could be on the ship for weeks at a time...”

It all seemed a bit strange. But Scree supposed his whole life was a bit strange now.

“So, that second ship that turned up...”

Kim sighed and nodded. “They’re the ones we have to worry about. If we had enough ships in space we could win a war against the hurgon easy enough. I think. But the multeese? I’m not sure if there are enough ships anywhere to beat them.”

“So how many ships is there?”

And now she looked a bit embarrassed. “At the moment we’re it.”

Scree raised his eyebrows.

“I know. The extra skyglass will get us another ship into space but that may well be the grand total of our fleet.”

“So the hurgon are a problem, then.”

“Well, yes, but we really need them if we are to have any hope against the multeese.”

“You could have told me that before I got on the ship.” Though it wouldn’t have made any difference. Not for him anyway.

“You didn’t leave me a lot of time to think.”

“The best answer is always the best answer, no matter how long you get to think.” Scree sat back and put his feet up as well. “And what about you? How did you end up here? This ain’t like no army I’ve ever seen”

Kim laughed. “How can you tell? I used to be in the army but this one’s a private venture. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then some people pissed me off and here I am.”

“That’s just about how I get through life.”

“Tell me about it.”

Scree guessed that was a figure of speech and she didn’t actually want to hear about his life. “Let’s go look at these exercise machines.”

Scree collected one of the lanterns and fiddled with it for a moment before it burst into life. The light wasn’t as bright as it was in the other universe.

The room Kim led him to was on Level 3. She showed him how to use the different machines though she wasn’t sure of some of them herself. There were simple things like weights for lifting, right up to a moving platform for running on. Most of them had little screens that needed electricity to operate, but they could all be used in the dark of the strange universe as well.

After he’d been shown all the machines, Scree made his way to the metal bar with the weights on each end. Kim had told him about the two ways the lifting was done so, planting his feet, he hoisted the weights up onto his chest and then above his head. After a moment he put it back down.

“That was a bit easy for you,” Kim said. “How much is on there?”

Scree shrugged as Kim bent to look at the weights. The writing meant nothing, apparently, so she hefted another one that was in a rack nearby. Then she went back to have a look at the bar.

“That’s...” she looked up. “I reckon that’s about 200 kilos.”

“Is thats a lot?”

“I think the world record for the clean and jerk is...” She cocked her head as if trying to rattle a number from a seldom-used corner of her brain, “Well the Australian Army record was about 240 or 250 kilos. I think.”

“Let’s put some mores on there then.” He watched as Kim did just that. “How much nows?”

“Two twenty. Maybe.”

Scree lifted that as well without too much effort. He could tell Kim was impressed and asked for some more.

“Two forty,” she said when she was done.

He succeeded again, but with a grunt of effort and a quiver in his arms. “Agains.” He stretched.

“I’m not sure if that’s safe. Lifters normally rest for a while between each go.”

Scree got some weights and started to add them onto one end himself. When he was done Kim was still looking at him. After a moment, she checked to see what he’d added, then put the same amount on the other end.

“260 kilos. Don’t hurt yourself, Scree. Just drop it if you have to, the floor’ll handle it.”

Taking a deep breath, Scree set his feet again. He knew he’d have to work this time.

With another deep breath he lifted and got the bar onto his chest. He was forced to crouch for a moment before surging to his feet. He paused again, not sure if he could go any further.

“You have to get the bar above your head,” Kim said, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t make it easier by getting your head lower.” She showed him how to do it.

It seemed reasonable, so he did it and slowly rose to his full height with the weights above his head. His arms quivered again, but he held his position for a few seconds before letting go and jumping clear. The weights clattered to the floor and Scree bent over, shaking his arms but grinning fiercely.

“Rest might haves been good,” he said.

“I think a lot of athletes would start to worry if you decided to hang around on Earth. There are men who make a living from lifting weights like these. That’s all they do. Training to lift, and lifting.”

“Maybes they should gets out and do some living instead. Who wants to do that alls day?”

“I don’t know. But I think you should rest before you do any living.”

As Scree went to sit down, Kim removed her jumper and went to one of the machines. She was lean and muscled and looked good. In a few minutes she was sweating up a storm and Scree was glad he’d lifted the weights. He didn’t want to have sex for the moment and was happy to sit and watch.

“So, you was in the army? How long ago was that?”

“A few years now. I was a pilot.”

“A what?”

“A pilot. They fly planes and helicopters.”

Scree shrugged. He didn’t exactly know what planes or helicopters were but he got the idea. “You still fit.”

She glanced over at him as she ran, faltering slightly when she saw him looking.

“I got into martial arts in the army. I still do it pretty seriously. A girl can never be to careful.”

“What’s martial arts.”

“Fighting. Hand to hand stuff.”

“Show me some.”

Kim laughed this time it was Scree getting looked over. “Scree, I haven’t seen you fight, but I reckon you could beat the shit out of me any day you liked.”

“Maybe, but a guy can never be too careful.”

“So, fighting is your thing?”

Scree shrugged. “I guess so. Never really done anything else.”

Kim nodded slowly. “All right then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Nothing. It’s just...” She slowed and stepped off the machine. “All the vehicles around here have very large seats.”

“What?”

“Vehicles. Like the Lander you flew back on Kiva.”

Scree nodded. “Yeah. So?”

“Well, the only people who would really fit them properly are you and Tuki.”

Scree couldn’t follow where she was heading and said so.

“Well, I’ve got to say I can’t really imagine Tuki or any of the moai I’ve met— all ten of them— being all that confident behind the wheel, even after a lot of training. You, on the other hand...”

Scree still had no idea what she was saying.

Kim sighed. “One of the vehicles on the ship is a fork lift— a Loader— for loading stuff in the hold.”

“Right.”

She sighed again as she started to wipe sweat from her arms with her jumper. “So, I don’t think the trolls were just here for the shooting and the killing. If you were supposed to be here at all, that is.”

“We’s in charge of the hold as well? Making sure it’s all tidy and organized?”

Kim nodded.

That was an interesting thought.

#

In the garden, the trolls were playing by the light of a half dozen lanterns. They were using something tied up with string as a ball, passing it among themselves. There were two teams, and the only goal was to keep the ball away from the opposition for as long as possible. There were no rules. It was a game Scree had played often enough himself.

He watched as Cliff was smashed by a pair of opponents and lost the ball. He was on his feet in an instant and in pursuit.

They were typical trolls, cursing and swearing but taking every pounding in good humor. The trouble was, planning wasn’t really a part of any game they played. And it wasn’t with life either. They worried about the present and that was about it. Not so long ago Scree was the same, but he knew that in the ship that would be a bad thing.

Scree watched for several minutes then stood and took a deep breath. He was going to take a gamble that could ruin everything right away.

“Hey,” he shouted during a lull in the action, bringing the game to a sudden stop. “Why youse playing with all these lanterns?”

“What ya mean?” Gorge asked. He was the oldest, ancient for a troll. His head was bald, but he sported a full beard. “We got lanterns so we can see.”

“Well, why don’t youse use your night-eyes?”

“What you talkin’ bout?”

“Your night-eyes. There’s plenty of lights coming in through them windows.”

“There ain’t no light,” Bones said. “What’s he talking about? There ain’t enough light to see.”

“Course there is, you just gots to know hows to see it.”

“And you know?”

“Course. Wouldn’t be telling youse abouts it otherwise.”

“Show show us.”

“Well, turn off all them lanterns”

While Bones, River and Shardy collected the lanterns, Scree closed his eyes and dug down in the corner of his mind to turn on his night-eyes.

“All them lights off?”

“Yep.”

Scree opened his eyes and looked at the group in front of him, all standing silently and looking in his general direction.

“Somes of you go left and somes of you goes right. I’ll tell you who is wheres.”

The group split in two, bumping past each other in the darkness, cursing loudly. Five went one way and fifteen the other. Scree listed the names but nobody was convinced by his success.

“Peak, you holds up some fingers and I’ll tell you how many.”

Peak, blinked his one eye and did as he was asked.

“Three fingers on your right hands. Am I rights?”

Peak shrugged. “Don’t know. Can’t count.”

Scree sighed. “Who can counts?”

“Chasm,” Chasm said.

“Chasm, hold up some fingers then.”

Scree watched as the trollop flicked her long hair out of the way and held up four fingers.

“Four?”

The trollop nodded. “Yep. He’s right.”

Scree thought they might be more impressed by the fact he could count than by his ability to see in the dark. “Told you. There’s plenty of light in heres, you just gots to know how to look.”

“So, how does we look then?” Cliff moved to the front of the group of fifteen, pushing his way through.

Scree wondered how to explain his night-eyes. All the members of his last pack knew about it, so he’d never needed to teach anyone. And he couldn’t remember who’d told him about it.

“There’s a spots in your mind,” he said, “ways down low at the back. And if you nudges it just rights, you can see. It’s easy really, but it’s just abouts finding the right spot.” He remembered the trouble he’d had trying to control the radio in his mind, but there’d been nobody there to help.

It turned out that it wasn’t that difficult after all. Talus had it in no time. “Got,” he said with a nervous laugh. He was the youngest of them all— barely sixteen summers— and not much more than six feet tall. “Everything’s all red, but can see.” Talus laughed some more. “Down back on left, it is.”

“Hey, I got it, too.” Gulch said in his deep baritone.

Soon all of them could see and were wandering around touching each other and throwing the ball in the darkness.

“How you know ‘bout this?” Cliff asked eventually.

Scree shrugged. “Just do. And there’s more.”

“More?”

The others quickly returned to the conversation.

“Yep. If youse nudge the other side of your minds, youse will be able to hear stuff.”

“I can hears stuff now,” Cairn said.

“Yeah?” Scree sniffed. “Huh. Just like you can see things, I suppose?”

Stone had the first success this time. “I hear somethin’. But it ain’t very interestin’.”

“Sounds a bits like rain?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, nears that same spot theres another spot that lets you change the rains.”

Scree started talking in his head and saw the smile cross Stone’s face a few moments later.

<I can hear.>

<Good. Weren’t hard.>

The game was a whole new thing when both teams could speak to each other in their minds at different levels. Teamwork became a simple thing. It became important, and that was a good thing.

Scree grunted as he watched.

#

Sherindel didn’t look any different to Kiva from space. Forests and oceans, mountains and deserts. Admittedly, there were less of the deserts than on Kiva, but drop him in the middle of somewhere and Scree didn’t know that he’d be able to tell the difference without stars. Keeble and Ping had adjusted the clocks in the break between jumps, and this meant Tuki, with his three apprentices watching over his shoulder, got them closer to the planet than would have been possible before. Scree wasn’t really sure how that worked, or what half of it even meant, but it wasn’t his job to know.

Now, they couldn’t go any closer without annoying the hurgon who waited there in their kil’ini.

“So, where’s we going?” Scree looked at Kim.

Kim turned to look at Tuki. “Is the skyglass showing any gates, Tuki? They were blue crosses.”

“Two, Kim. They are hardly more than a thousand kilometers apart.”

An image came up in dome and Kim cocked her head to one side to look. “Keeble? Anything look familiar?”

Keeble shrugged. “Mount Elgara. I hardly ever went outside remember.”

“Mel?”

Meledrin turned away from the globe hanging in the air at the top of the dome. “I could not say for sure. Daraneen Forest is many hundreds of kilometers across. The Daydawn River is the largest in the forest and... I do not know. I have not been far from Grovely.”

Kim shook her head in disgust. “Well that one to the north is on bit of a peninsular, by the looks. It probably isn’t wide enough.” She cocked her head the other way as she examined the other cross. “There’s a forest and mountains. Can the two of you narrow it down a little bit, at least?”

Another shrug from Keeble and Scree had to agree with Kim’s frustration.

“Right,” Kim said. “Northern hemisphere or southern?”

“Excuse me?” Meledrin asked.

“Sherindel is a big ball that spins—”

“I know that, thank you—”

“So are you to the north of the half way point of the ball or to the south?”

“I do not know.”

“Winter or summer when you left?”

“Spring.”

The woman looked from the world below out towards the sun. “Doesn’t really bloody help,” she muttered. “How far north were you? “Mild winters? Snow?”

“Mild winters.”

“An ocean?”

“I have not seen, but there was one to the west.”

“And the east?”

“Forest. And then mountains.”

“I went north to get there, I think,” Keeble added. “So there are mountains to the south as well.”

“And oceans to the south of you, Keeble?”

“No. Not for a long way, at least.”

Kim turned back to examine the world in the dome over head. There was only half of it there because only half of it could be seen. A blue spot marked their own position in space, and red dots showed the living alien ships. Tuki had said there were a hundred and ten of them.

“I don’t think it’s the second one either,” Kim said. “Lets find the last one.” She got the ship moving, skirting around the world. “Can you make the image of the planet larger please, Tuki?”

He could and he did. Scree examined the half world. “What this about spring and winter and stuff?” he asked.

Kim explained exactly how seasons worked and Scree wondered how the humans on Earth had worked all of that stuff out. He wondered how they really knew.

He was watching out the window and saw a spot that looked likely. “Hows about there?”

Kim stopped the ship. “Well, that’s where the last cross is on the skyglass.” She wiggled a finger in her ear as she compared the image above with the world below. “Looks more likely than the other two.”

And of course, that was where one of the larger masses of monster were. “Meledrin went through a gate froms here to Earth, right? So the humans mights be down there, fighting the monsters. And so that’s wheres all the monsters would be.”

Kim nodded. “So now all we have to do is get down to the ground.”

“Can one of the Landers work from all the way up here?” Keeble asked.

“Maybe.” Kim shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to try right now though. It’d be a relatively slow trip and that thing is not very well armed or armored.”

“So we’s going down in this one again?”

Kim gave an uncertain nod. “Yes. How much fuel do we have?”

Scree didn’t know what that was but Keeble checked.

“We have about half a tank left. So we have used about three eights in all our travels. Not much at all really.”

Kim laughed for a moment. “Except in galactic terms we’ve only just driven down to the corner shop and then across to pick up the kids from school.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Wells, we could goes down somewhere else and then go across to wheres we wants to go once we past the monsters,” Scree suggested.

“But the flying around once we’re down there will be the thing that uses all our fuel.”

Inaki cleared his throat nervously. “Excuse me, mo’min.”

It looked as if the moai expected to have his head bitten off.

“Yes, Inaki, what is it?”

“What is fuel, mo’min?”

Kim explained fuel, using a fire as an analogy. It all sounded a bit strange but Scree didn’t have much choice but to believe her.

“I says we go straight through,” Scree said. “I can clear the way—”

“I don’t want to kill them, Scree.”

“I knows. None of them will die if they gets out of our way.”

“It’s not just that. They aren’t our enemies—”

“Well theys should stop trying to kill us then, I thinks.”

“We need them to trust us, and that won’t happen if we keep killing them.”

“You the boss.”

She grunted. “Where’s Cuto? Someone get Cuto up here please.”

“Yep,” Scree nodded. “I’s on it.”

Scree used the radio in his mind, asking the other trolls to send the alien up if they know where it was.”

“Well, are you going?”

“Under control.” He tapped the side of his head.

“Oh.”

Cuto arrived a few minutes later with some trolls close behind. The alien went to Meledrin’s console and started talking.

“They don’t believe us,” Kim said eventually.

“Course theys don’t.” Scree didn’t know why they’d even bothered.

Cliff looked around. “Who don’t ‘lieve us?”

“There’s more aliens, Cuto’s people, out there watching the planet. They say they won’t let us through without a fight.”

“We get t’ fight?”

“Sorry, Cliff, but no.” Kim flicked some switches and started the ship moving forward. “We’re going to do what we did last time. Race through as quickly as possible.”

Scree smiled. He told his companions to move back and switched on his seat.

“Scree, we’re not—”

“I knows. You just drive, let me worry abouts not shooting thems.”

The woman sighed. “You guys might want to sit down.”

Scree looked at some of the other trolls. “Go get in the other seats. Don’t shoot the aliens though.”

Gorge, Stone, Flint and Shardy raced for the stairs while Cuto went to crouch behind a chair and grab the rail at the back.

30: Different Angles

Keeble checked the systems, though they couldn’t have changed since last time he checked. Everything, except batteries, was in the green. It’d be another half an hour at full speed before they were charged properly.

Then, with nothing else to do, he turned his attention to the view-port. The world spun below them. Mountains and forests, oceans and desert that the dwarves knew nothing about. They had once, long ago, but now turned inwards more and more each year. If he’d had any choice, Keeble wouldn’t have left the mountains of his home either.

He watched the world below and wondered what riches the other mountains held until the kil’ini finally started moving. Five were coming towards them. Others were covering the holes they’d left, like humans playing football. And it seemed that Kim was going to do her best to ignore them all. They were traveling about a kilometer a second and it wasn’t as if their ship was built for dodging.

The living ships started to fire. Scree turned on the shields, forcing Keeble to look away so he could check the power levels. When he looked back, the troll was firing. The others must have been as well, but they were just shooting at the missiles again, instead of the aliens.

It was a strange group that Keeble found himself a part of, but it was Scree that surprised him most. It was obvious after only a few hours that he was the one most qualified and best equipped to lead them all, yet he sat back and let Kim, a woman, tell him what to do.

Keeble sighed and decided that it might be a good idea to help. “There’s another type of gun, Scree,” he said.

“So?” The troll continued to fire.

“So the one you’re using requires ammunition. The other one is called a beamer— it’s just a type of light and only needs power in the batteries.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Keeble told him how to change weapons and apparently he told the others.

The trolls only needed to hit the spitballs once with a beamer to get the desired effect. At first it was an easy task, and Keeble watched dozens of the alien projectiles explode in the first couple of minutes. But more kept coming and they couldn’t stop them all. The sphere that surrounded Scree’s seat moved constantly, spinning this way and that as he targeted— Keeble didn’t know how he could concentrate on two sights with so much accuracy.

Keeble shook his head. And Scree chooses to follow a woman. He hoped the troll would come to his senses.

When the first of the enemies’ missiles escaped the cross fire and hit the shields the energy levels dropped. His heart started to race though they were safe for a while yet. More missiles got through.

“Where are all the other trolls?” Keeble asked.

One of the other trolls, Sandy, answered, hair bead clacking as she turned to look over her shoulder. “They is on Level 3, in the mess.”

“Right.” Keeble turned off all the lights below level 3 and re-routed the power into the shields.

The ship raced between the first pair of aliens and they had a few seconds of respite as the two creatures feared injuring each other. A few seconds later they were in the clear and quickly out-raced the weapons. There was a second line of defense, but they were passed quickly as well with the trolls continuing their defensive fire. Keeble started to relax, slumping back in his chair as Kim reversed the thrust and started to slow them down.

Keeble tapped his metal arm on the edge of his console in time to the fluctuating read-outs. Hull temperature was climbing steadily, though the shields took up a lot of the heat. Power in the batteries was dropping rapidly. He almost pointed that out to Kim, but there was really nothing she could do anyway, beyond what she was already doing.

Cliff, the biggest of the trolls, with a scar from his missing ear all the way down his neck, stood up and walked to the view port, compensating for the juddering movement of the ship as if he’d been doing it all his life. “There’s somethin’ on fire out there,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kim replied through gritted teeth, as if she was physically involved in the effort to slow the ship. Keeble decided that if she could see his panel she might be at least a little bit worried.

“Don’t worry?” From the look of Cliff’s smile, he was starting to like her.

“It’s just the air.”

“T’ air’s on fire?”

Finally they slowed beyond some threshold and things started returning to normal. The shields sank through red to orange then yellow. The hull temperature dropped as rapidly.

“Batteries nearly charged,” Keeble said after checking the information three times. They’d been a long way off a short while ago. “Must have something to do with the heat— it must have dropped below a manageable level.”

“What about everything else?”

“Bit late to be asking that now.” But he checked on the damaged hull and life support systems.

“Oh.”

Once he knew they weren’t going to die soon, Keeble turned his attention to the three dimensional map in the hollow of the floor. There were still a long way up but the detail was amazing. That curve of mountains. That spot where four valleys met. “I think that’s the spot. Over in the corner there.”

The map scrolled, probably Tuki’s doing.

“No, the other corner. Yes, there. See those four valleys?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never seen it from this angle so it’s hard to tell. But I think so.”

“Mel?”

Keeble laughed and the elf ignored the laughter and question both.

Kim shook her head. “Good enough. So do I land in the valleys somewhere?”

“Where they meet is open and flat. It might be the safest place.”

“Right you are, then.”

“You knows,” Scree had his seat facing the sky, “there were not many of them monsters above them moai when we landed on Kiva. Just maybes we drew the aliens to them.”

Keeble hadn’t thought of that. “And maybe we’ll draw them to the dwarves.”

Kim pointed to the map. “I think it’s a bit late for that. Look.”

On the map, thick columns of smoke were visible all around the four valleys. As they drew closer they could see that trees and earth had been scorched. Closer still they could see dead bats with the metal canisters cracked open. Dwarves and monsters alike littered the ground for kilometers. There were no living creatures in sight.

Kim set the ship down in a clear spot a kilometer from the meeting place of the valleys.

They sat in silence, examining the images Tuki put into the floor well. The trolls were probably thinking tactically. Keeble wasn’t thinking much at all. He was stunned by the obvious ferocity of the battle that had taken place.

Kim broke the silence. “Use the door on Level 10,” she said. “I think I got close enough to the cliff that you should be able to just jump out.”

“What’s the plan?” Keeble asked, pulling his attention away from the images and gathering his thoughts. He turned off the shields, seeing Scree seemed to have forgotten about them, and checked for damage.

Kim shrugged. “You’re going to go and see if you can find some volunteers.”

“That’s it?” Keeble hook his head. “I just hop out and go find some dwarves?”

“You aren’t going on your own.” She paused and looked across at Scree. She pursed her lips. “Scree is going to decide how much help you need and who that help will be. If you want details, you’ll have to ask him.”

Keeble turned to Scree and the big man was smiling.

“I’m in charge?”

Kim didn’t look sure, but nodded anyway. “Yes you are, Scree. Unless you know of someone better suited to the job.”

“Huh!”

“Just don’t disappoint me.”

Keeble expected the troll to jump out of his seat and rush off to find a weapon— he seemed like that kind of man— but he stayed where he was and gave the matter some thought.

“Well, the Hakahei is the most important thing, so we haves to decide how many peoples we want to leave here as protection.”

“Well... Five should do it, I think. Shouldn’t it? I doubt the aliens’ handgun thingies can do the ship any damage. And even dropping an incendiary bomb from a bird should be harmless enough. Maybe. If we do get into any trouble there are the ship’s guns.”

“Five it is then.”

“Maybe you should divide the trolls into four troops.”

“What? Why?”

“Easier to control. You don’t have to waste time dividing the troops in the heat of battle, you can tell the leader of the troop what you want, and they can organize the details.”

That obviously wasn’t the way trolls normally fought. Keeble imagined they’d normally decide to thump some people then walk up in one big group and just do it.

Kim continued. “So, you’re now a major, Scree. Pick four sergeants and give them some men. Women. Whatever. Then leave one troop here and take the rest.”

“And what’s it that we’s looking for, exactly?”

Keeble answered him. “At the very least, we need a Singer who has a Song of Doing. A couple more dwarves in general would be good to help with maintenance.” It had taken he, Ping and Cuto over three hours to fix the problem with the clock, and that was after they’d had worked out what the problem was. The engines were going to take a lot more effort.

“We actually need a couple of everything,” Kim said. “The Americans will need some dwarves as well. They’ll say they can fix the stuff themselves, but they’ll be wrong.”

Keeble smiled. At least she could admit that.

Kim looked around. “Come on people, what are you all waiting for?”

Keeble unstrapped his belt with a sneer and headed for the lift.

“Sees you on Level 10, Keeble, near the door.”

“Right. Don’t take too long. The longer we sit here—”

“I knows that.”

Keeble wondered if he needed to take anything. An EVA suit with some small air tanks would probably be good, so he could survive in the smoke, unless he came upon an enemy he couldn’t see. A weapon might have been handy, but his axe was long gone. Well, as Kim had pointed out, that was Scree’s area of expertise.

He took the lift to the engineering level to retrieve the suit he’d used earlier then continued to the lowest level of the ship. Levels 9 and 10 were both cargo holds, large open spaces filled with a vast amount of... Keeble didn’t know what was in most of the boxes. Possibly, after more than fifty thousand years there wasn’t much at all. Kim had been looking in some of them but hadn’t said anything about what she found.

While he waited for his escort, he went to the nearest box and tried to open it. There were handles near one corner that would allow one entire panel to be opened like a door, but the lowest of the three was stuck in the locked position and the highest was just out of his reach.

Fifteen minutes later, Keeble was going to find some tools and something to stand on when the trolls finally arrived. Apparently they’d used the time to get changed into EVA suits, and they all filled them with much precision than Keeble. They weren’t like the ones Keeble had seen everywhere else. These seemed to come with armoring of some kind and were adorned with a number of pockets. Scree had changed as well and seemed very pleased with himself.

“Like our new clothes? Got ‘em from that rooms with the extra weapons’ seats. None in your size though.”

“You’ll just have to make sure you jump in front of any bullets then.”

Scree’s suit was completely black but the others were adorned with a slash of one of four colors— red, blue, green and yellow. The four troops, Keeble guessed. They all carried weapons and he was pleased when Scree threw an extra one in his direction. He juggled one handed for a moment, before steadying it with his metal hand. “How does it work?”

“This bits here is like the power switch. And you press this bits here to make it work.”

“How did you test these on the ship? You didn’t fire at the hull, did you?”

Scree looked insulted. “Just don’t point it at anybodys you don’t wants to kill. And take one of these as well.”

Keeble took the second item offered, one of the little radios to wrap around his head.

“Hello, can you hear me?”

Keeble could hear Scree’s reply even though the troll didn’t move his mouth. <Gots you. And remembers, you only have to think the words, Keeble. You there, Kim?>

<Loud and clear. And Scree, don’t leave any of our people behind.>

Keeble thought that was a strange thing to say but Scree either took it in his stride or ignored it. “Right. We ready?”

The trolls nodded, though it was obvious that Gorge and Red Troop had been given the relatively safe task of staying behind to guard the ship. They didn’t look all that happy, but Scree was in charge and apparently they were listening so far.

“Rights. Keeble, where’s we going when we gets out?”

“We’re going to the right,” Keeble said, but it all depended on what they saw once the door was open. They might not be able to get to the ground at all— a woman had parked the ship, after all. It was about a kilometer to the Swallow Gate, and quite a climb. The River Gate was at the base of the valley but was four and a half kilometers in the other direction.

“Let’s go.”

Keeble opened the huge doors as the trolls arrayed themselves in defensive position.

“Green and Yellow, goes.”

Keeble stayed out of the way, watching as Stone and Chasm led their troops out onto the mountainside. The ledge Kim had parked beside was about a meter lower than the floor and a meter away— the trolls had no problems negotiating the gap. They split up and headed for cover.

<Nobody here,> Stone said from behind a rock on the far side of the trail. The troll looked like he’d been carrying out similar tasks all his life.

“Let’s go.”

Keeble followed Scree out the door, surrounded by Blue Troop. He landed awkwardly, rolling his ankle. He gritted his teeth and said nothing.

<Be ready fors us, Gorge. We mights be in a hurry. This ways, Keeble?>

“Yes.” The line of the mountains curved the right way, making the ledge near the Swallow Gate visible. Keeble pointed it out to Scree.

It seemed Stone had won some type of contest earlier. His troop took the dangerous point position again. Chip— tall and lean for a troll, like he was built for running— was sent even further ahead to check the path. The other groups followed behind, moving quickly. Keeble had trouble keeping up. He kept his short legs pumping and was soon breathing heavily. His ankle ached ferociously. Dwarves were built for sprinting, not endurance, but it seemed Scree and his companions didn’t differentiate between the two. Keeble kept a tight grip on his weapon even as he wondered if there was any point. If the trolls needed his help then they were in all sorts of trouble. But he said nothing about the pace of their journey or the pointlessness of his weapon. He hoped the trickier parts of the trail would slow the trolls down.

At the first difficult section, where a rockslide had covered a switchback turn, the trolls scrambled past like mountain goats, hardly slowing.

“Almost feels like home,” somebody said. Keeble thought it might have been Sergeant Chasm, with long hair and a missing front tooth.

Somebody else laughed. Keeble didn’t know who.

“Somebody’ll probably be tryin’ to kill kill us soon, then it’ll be like home.”

They weren’t attacked, but they did come across the remains of a battle. A dozen dwarves were lying dead by the side of the trail. They’d obviously sought a defensive position in a gully, but it hadn’t done them any good. The aliens’ electrical guns had fried most, but one was missing an arm, another was split open from navel to neck. The ground was dark with death.

Keeble stopped despite Scree’s protest. He stood in the middle of the trail, staring, trying to catch his breath. The stench was almost overpowering— it caught at the back of his throat and made him gag.

A dozen dwarves and only two dead aliens, colorful armor cracked open. The breaking open of the armor had probably been done after the battle had passed.

Peak blinked his one good eye. “A couple of days ago,” the troll said.

Keeble didn’t know how Peak knew, but he wasn’t about to argue. He’d thought that going back to Tab cavern wouldn’t affect him at all. Coming in on the ship he’d thought that the war would not affect him, beyond making it harder to find the people he needed. These were the people who had cast him out, after all. They had turned their backs on him when he obviously could sing a Song of Being. He owed them nothing. But the bodies lying in the gully proved otherwise. The dwarves were his people and the aliens were killing them for no good reason. He clenched his gun tighter, felt his hand trembling on the handle. He turned away from the bodies but no matter where he looked he could still taste death with every breath.

He would not cry in front of the trolls. He cleared his throat. “Come on.”

He ran behind Scree, wondering if Milo and Ari and all his other friends were still alive, wondering if he would stumble over their bodies somewhere. Or would Ari still be in her bunker, where she was required to stay?

Keeble laughed at that though. If any dwife would leave her bunker without permission, it would be Ari.

Around the next corner Keeble stumbled on the haft of a broken dindo and was steadied from behind by strong hands. He turned and saw... Flint, with bald head and drooping moustache.

“Watch the path, little man.”

Keeble grunted and ran on. He smelled the site of the next battle before he saw it and kept his eyes resolutely ahead. He kept his attention on where he was placing his feet.

By the time they reached the Swallow Gate, Keeble was struggling again. He would’ve gone on though, unwilling to admit any weakness to the trolls, but Scree saved him the bother. He called a halt beneath the overhang and pulled a small water bottle from one of his many pockets. Green Troop were already out of sight down the passage.

<Trouble ahead.>

Keeble didn’t know who’d spoken. It didn’t matter. He knew enough about trolls to know that if one said there was trouble, it would probably be serious.

<Whats?>

<Don’t know sure. Passages dark until now. Now open cavern and light. Movement inside, but can’t see from here.>

<Can you get closer, Talus?> Stone asked.

Scree overruled Stone’s question. <Don’t bothers. Not till the rest of us is there. Is there other doors, does you know?>

<Don’t know.>

Keeble cleared his throat. “I know the layout of all the caves. When I know which cavern it is, I’ll be able to tell you.”

“Goods. Come on then.”

There was only one passage for a long way. Normally, it would never have been dark, but nobody had replaced the burnt out torches. Keeble bustled along in the midst of the trolls. Flint’s hand was on his shoulder again, guiding him through the darkness.

Keeble felt things brushing against his legs. He didn’t know what they were but he imagined dwarves reaching for him with cold stiff hands, seeking help he couldn’t give. He swallowed and blinked away tears and hoped the trolls couldn’t see everything.

31: Wanderer

They passed through the first three intersections without slowing. At the fourth, they stopped. There was light now, enough to see two dead dwarves and burn marks on the walls. Keeble cleared his throat and looked for Stone.

The Green leader was waiting down a side passage, just out of sight. The other four members of the troop were scouting further along the passages. To the left, they’d go eight hundred and forty two meters before they found anything at all, and that would be nothing more than a hole in the floor. He wondered if he should warn them about that. To the right was storage— a maze of little rooms filled with a hundred years of outdated clutter that nobody wanted to throw out.

Stone pointed down the main passage. <Fifty meters. Big room.>

Keeble tried to remember to talk in his head. <That’s Pablus’ Room. There’s only one other way into it from here, and that’s a vent down that way.> Toward the storerooms. A vent that many a dwarf boy had crawled through in the years since it had been drilled. No troll was likely to fit.

<How bigs?> Scree asked.

<Not big enough.>

<What abouts for you?>

Keeble shrugged. <Maybe. But what would I do in there?>

<Get the attention of whoever’s in the room.>

Keeble didn’t mind the idea of being a distraction but he complained anyway. <It isn’t my job to do dangerous things, remember.>

<Be safer in there once we gets started.>

<Kim said she doesn’t want you to kill anyone, remember?>

Scree laughed. <Since when have you been worried about what Kim said?>

Since when indeed? But Scree was continuing.

<Anyways, if we don’t haves a choice, then we don’t haves a choice.>

<Right then.>

The light from Pablus’ Room was enough for him to see by and he made his way to the vent. Talus was standing in the shadows of a doorway nearby, waiting to help.

While Keeble was struggling into the hole with Talus pushing him from behind, the other scout went by, returning to join the group for the fight.

Scree was talking. <These guns is different to the monster gun, but I still reckons the best place to attack them will be on their backs. That’s where they keeps air for breathing in space. If youse can’t hit the back, then I reckons the face is the next best spot.>

It was many years since Keeble had been in the vent and it was a tight fit. He grunted as he hauled himself further in.

“You right?” Talus asked in an audible whisper.

“Yes.” He started dragging himself forward, thinking he was making enough noise to be heard all the way to Tab Cavern. While he crawled, Keeble listened as Scree outlined a fairly open plan in his ear. It didn’t involve much more than spreading out and finding cover.

<Is we ready?>

A chorus of yeses.

Keeble grunted. <I’m almost there. I’ll give you a description when I arrive.>

<Right.>

Near the end of the vent, Keeble stopped to catch his breath.

His previous experiences of fighting, few and far between that they were, had been nothing like this. Normally, he was with a group of companions on patrol and the battle came at them unexpectedly. There were groups of brigands, normally humans, sometimes dwarves, who wandered through the mountains looking for anything that would keep them going for another few days. Patrols were sent out to discourage them. The brigands were always in small groups and badly equipped. Hardly a danger at all. And there was never any time for thought. He didn’t know how the trolls could stand this cold, calculated waiting. If the whole plan didn’t revolve around him he would have stayed where he was and let the experts sort it out.

Finally, Keeble pulled himself to the end of the vent and looked out into the room. It was thirteen meters, twenty-two centimeters in diameter. Below his position was a small fire with six hurgon crouching around it. Their empty armor was a few meters away. Other than that, there were a score of others, half of them suited up and facing the door through which the trolls would come, the others playing a strange game against the far wall.

Keeble gave the trolls a description of the situation, trying to think of all the information that might be useful. There were some wooden boxes piled near the passage to Swallow Gate. There was a promontory of rock sticking out from the western wall.

<How manys other doors is there?>

<Two. It’s a fair way from here to the next rooms.>

<Right. Here we goes then. You shoots the back of one of the armored guys. They’ll takes a while to turn and target you so you should have plenty of time. But make sure you get out of the way. We wants to get more dwarves, not lose the one we gots.>

<Right.>

Keeble sighted along the barrel of the weapon, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. He cursed under his breath before remembering the power button. He fumbled with the switch. The click it made seemed unnaturally loud in the vent. He paused, eyeing the enemy warily, ready to get out of the way. Eventually he rested the gun on his mechanical hand, aimed and fired.

The gun bucked slightly in his hand, affecting his aim. The noise it made was a soft clang, like the rhythm-keeping tap of a blacksmith’s hammer against the anvil between true blows. He zeroed in on the back of his chosen monster, adjusted for the kick, and fired again. He saw the projectile hit the target with no result. He fired a few more times. It wasn’t until the eighth shot that anything happened. A spectacular ball of fire filled the room. One of the unarmored hurgon was beating at burning clothes. None of the others in the armor had been affected, and they were turning to look in his direction.

Keeble scuttled back from the opening as quickly as he could. “I hit him eight times,” he said out loud between gasps for breath. If the trolls wanted that final piece of information, they made no sign. They were too busy shouting and firing.

When the battle was in full swing, Keeble crawled forward again to look.

The monsters’ weapons gave off sizzles of electricity. Most of the trolls were out of sight behind the boxes, popping into the open every now and then to fire. It was always a different troll, always a long way from the last, to keep the monsters guessing. Those of the enemy who were not in armor were already dead. Most hadn’t had a chance to move, being struck down around the fire or in the midst of their game. Several suits of armor were just blackened shells lying on the floor.

But the trolls could no longer attack the armored creatures’ backs. They were concentrating on the faceplates as Scree suggested, but weren’t meeting with much success.

After watching the darting trolls for a moment, Keeble realized he was in the best position and brought his own gun to bear on the back of an alien. He hesitated before letting of a series of quick shots. Nobody noticed. Nothing happened.

One of the other monsters suddenly stopped moving. Keeble assumed its faceplate was breached.

He concentrated on his own shooting, firing a few more rounds. An explosion sent out shards of pink and green shrapnel.

Keeble shimmied back into the vent.

Then next time he emerged it was all over. “Somebody want to help me down?” he asked. “It’ll take for ever to go out the other way.”

Cliff, the tallest of them all, made his way over to the vent. It was too high even for him, so two of his troop brought over one of the boxes they’d hid behind earlier.

A minute later, Keeble was looking closely at some armor with Scree and Stone. There wasn’t a lot to see.

“Let’s see what happens.”

Everybody stood back and Keeble fired one shot at the chest of a still-standing suite of armor. The bullet sank into the armor and stayed there. Fine cracks ran away from it.

“Every shot must weaken it until one finally gets through.” He bent to look closer. “I thought it was metal, but obviously not.”

Scree shrugged. “Doesn’t matters, really. Comes on. We should keep going. Where to now?”

Keeble pointed and this time it was Chasm’s Yellow Troop— closest to the door— that led the way.

Tab Cavern was almost a kilometer away, down deep in the mountain they’d just climbed. The passage curved this way and that, and there were many intersections with lesser passages leading away. Keeble listened to the chatter in his head as Yellow Troop decided who was going where and reported back on what they found. Keeble told them that all they had to do was follow the main passage, but they wanted to check everything out. They were having fun.

Keeble gritted his teeth and kept walking.

It shouldn’t have been fun. Tunnels had collapsed. Storerooms and bunkers had been ransacked. There were descriptions of battles and dead dwarfs running though his head like commentary on a football match. The hurgon were way ahead on the scoreboard.

At the final intersection before Tab Cavern, the five members of Yellow Troop waited beside the still form of an armored alien. The faceplate had been broken and the face beyond was bloody.

<What’s in this next rooms?>

Keeble looked down the passage, though he already knew what was there. “The next room is Tab Cavern, the main room of the entire complex. There are one hundred and five entry points on nine different levels. The room itself is on two levels. We’ll come out on the upper level, which is six meters, forty two centimeters above the lower section.”

“How bigs is the upper bits?”

“Twelve meters and eighty one centimeters from the door to the edge of the lip. The lower section is a rough circle about forty three and a half meters in diameter.”

“Right. Talus, go and sees what you cans see. Don’t gets caught— and watch out for that extra eighty one centimeters.”

“If you don’t like the details of my report, just say so.” Keeble said. “I don’t know how important those things might be.”

Scree smiled and shook his head. “Don’t do nothing different, Keeble.”

Talus scurried forward, crouched low, moving silently.

<Nothing top level, boss. More boxes. Lots boxes. Big mess.>

<Can you gets to the lip?>

<I’m there. And... Festerin’ cats. There’s lots of ‘em, boss. I can’t count, but there’s lots. Some got armor, some not. They eatin’, drinkin’, playin’.>

<What else?>

<They got prison. Bars across door and guards. Looks like dwarfs inside.>

<Which door?> Keeble asked.

<Ummm... Right next to a big rock that looks like a tit.>

Keeble nodded. The Hollow Room. It was just a small room, nine and a half meters across. There was no other door in. He passed on the information.

Scree called the scout back.

“We could just just go there,” somebody said out loud.

Scree shook his head. “We coulds probably gets there no worries, getting outs again would be the problem. We needs another diversion. Keeble, can we get around opposite that room and up high real quick?”

“Yes. But...”

“Hows?”

“Why do you want a diversion?”

“So we cans get out alive.”

“The best way out is through the cell.”

“But you saids there was only one entrance.”

Keeble was going to explain about Singing but decided it was be easier to just show them. “Well, there’s a kind of secret entrance as well.” The fact that there were prisoners in the room at all told him there were no Singers, but whoever was in there might have information.

“Why isn’t them dwarves using the secret entrance?”

“Not everyone knows about it. It’s a secret.”

“Right. Can’t we just go in by the secret entrance?”

“It’s too far.”

Scree shrugged. “All right. Let’s have a looks then.”

The ‘lots’ reported by Talus hadn’t prepared Keeble. There were at least a hundred and fifty of the aliens making a mess of the cavern. There were a dozen campfires, using the remains of what had once been a market for fuel. There were ranks of armor on one side, waiting for their occupants.

<Right. I says we just run and get there, by the time they reacts we’ll be right.>

<But we got to get out remember,> Peak said.

<Just gets down there and gets in the cell.>

<In the cell?>

Scree looked at Peak and the one eyed troll shrugged. <You the boss.>

Before anyone could say anything else, Scree broke cover. He led the trolls down the ramp to the main floor. Most of the aliens didn’t see them as they hurried around the wall toward the cell. They fired as they went, concentrated fire on the faceplates of the guards. With the concentrated fire they broke through. Scree shifted aim immediately but Keeble kept his eyes on the barred door.

By the time he got there, the occupants had already opened the lock and were coming out. It’d only been the guards keeping them in. At first it was old dwarves who hurried out, then women started coming. Keeble swore under his breath.

“Everyone, back inside.” He grabbed the arm of a passing oldster and turned him around. “Back inside.”

“But...”

“You’ll die out here.”

As if to prove the point, the oldster did die, cut down by a sizzle of energy. The trolls killed the attacker before he could kill anyone else. The outermost of the fleeing dwarves seemed to get the point.

“Back inside,” Keeble yelled. “Inside. Back.” He swore. Dwarves kept coming out as the first group was trying to get back in.

He swore again when he saw who was holding the door open.

“Ari?”

“Keeble?” The dwife stared at him for a moment then turned her attention back to the fleeing prisoners.

Dwives and children and old men were the only ones in the room. No workers at all.

A dozen dwarves had not gotten the message. They had broken out into the cavern and were heading for various exits.

“What’s happening, Keeble?” Ari asked, looking bewildered.

<Let ‘em run,> Scree said to the other trolls. <We chase ‘em and we all die.>

“We need to get everyone back inside,” Keeble shouted. He watched as Ari finally stopped herding. Her long hair was hanging loose and the bottom of her stiff, linen skirt had been torn away revealing her ankles. It was an atrocious display that Keeble could live with in elves but... It was nice to see a friendly, dwarvish face again.

“But why?”

“Because we’ll die out here. Everyone back inside,” Keeble yelled again and finally it started to happen.

<Get in there and get it happening, Keeble.>

“Right.”

The room was quickly filling again as dwarves rushed back inside. It would have been bad enough with just the dwarves, but with the trolls as well...

Chasm was the last in and she was shouting at the top of her voice for somebody to get them out of there.

Keeble had already started. He hummed the foundations of his Song. Normally he would have carefully checked every little piece, but there was no time. He built up the Song with a wordless, dancing cadence and finally he sealed the joints with a series of clicks. When it was all there, filling the chamber, he changed it slightly to include a deep breath. Then he strengthened it again and, without whittling it down, he pushed the song into the chamber’s far wall.

“I’m done,” he said softly. The dwarves in the room were silent. The trolls were shouting. “Let’s go, quickly.”

As one, the dwarves surged into the hollow space in the wall that his Song had created, taking most of the trolls with them. Only Scree and Chasm remained in the room.

Keeble heard Chasm swear. Scree was staring open mouthed, but he took the big trollop’s arm and dragged her into the wall. Keeble closed the gap behind them. There was another room fifteen meters distant. Even if it wasn’t empty, they’d have the element of surprise on their side. Concentrating hard, Keeble led the way.

He could feel the stone on his skin, like mist. Ari was clinging to his arm with shaking hands. “They caught us by surprise,” she whispered.

Keeble was sure she wouldn’t normally have been nervous about being in the stone, but she was clinging to his mechanical arm. That would make it painfully obvious that he shouldn’t be able to Sing at all.

“They had us trapped in the caves, divided.”

Keeble concentrated on his Song, refining it as he went, checking the joints he should have checked earlier, strengthening it.

“We were with a group that broke out yesterday morning, but they found us. Most got away.”

Ari’s trembling grip distracted him. They were in public. Keeble could see a boy with part of her skirt wrapped around his head as a bandage.

“I don’t know where the others are,” Ari said.

Keeble brought everyone out into Tabin Cabin and gratefully let his Song collapse. Sweat coated his entire body. He could hardly breathe.

32: A Slight Problem

Scree breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped out of the stone into a real room. He was even more grateful when he saw Keeble. The dwarf didn’t look good. He didn’t waste time finding out what had just happened though.

“Wheres are we?”

“Under the mountain,” Keeble said, shaking himself as if trying to wake up.

Scree was about to complain but decided the answer meant as much as anything else. “Who’s in charge thens?”

Scree watched as Keeble looked around. Apparently the dwarf couldn’t decide for himself, so he asked in his own language.

For a moment there was no reaction then one old man and another pointed at the woman standing by Keeble’s side. Both she and Keeble looked stunned and shook their heads. The four involved in the disagreement then began a heated discussion that might have gone forever if Scree hadn’t interrupted. “Stinking cats, Keeble, is she in charge or nots?”

“No, she isn’t.”

“Then who is?”

Keeble shrugged as he looked around. He seemed to pick a dwarf at random. “Him.”

The old man mightn’t have been able to understand the words, but he understood enough. He shook his head before he too pointed at the woman by Keeble’s side.

Scree knew Keeble’s opinion of women, but didn’t have time to argue. “She’s it, Keeble. Now find out her name and asks her where everyone else is.”

“Her name is Ari, and she already told me. She doesn’t know. A large group tried to escape yesterday afternoon. Most got away but this group was recaptured. The others are outside the mountain somewhere.”

“Cat gut.” Scree shook his head. “How far does we chase?”

He tried to get in contact with the ship in his head, but the radio wouldn’t work. He swore. He could still hear the trolls who’d come with him, but the ship wasn’t answering. He’d follow for now and ask Kim when he got the chance.

“How does we gets out then? We wants to go where the others went.”

“Well, I can find out where they went, and I can tell you what would normally be the quickest way, but now...”

Scree shrugged. “She leads then.”

“No.” Keeble looked shocked. “I’ll lead.”

“She’ll leads. You’ll stands near me and translate. Rights?”

“I won’t.”

“Then I’ll leaves you in a corner. You done a good jobs on the ship so fars, but we gots a job you can’t do. We needs to find somebody who cans do it.”

“Very well.” He didn’t look very happy about it. He stared coldly at the woman. “She’ll lead and I’ll translate.”

Scree smiled. He knew Keeble wouldn’t be able to leave the ship when there were still things to be fixed, even if it meant following a woman. “Right. Let’s go thens.”

Not a lot of translation was needed, in the end. The woman seemed to know where the main concentrations of monsters were— or maybe the most likely places they’d be— and led the group creeping along passages. She looked nervous and muttered constantly to herself, but didn’t lead them astray. Trolls and escapees seemed happy enough to follow. Only Keeble looked annoyed.

“Old men ain’t allowed to work either, is they?” Scree asked Keeble.

“What?”

“Dwarf men sit at home and do nothing, don’t they, once they gets to a certain age.”

“Yes. It wouldn’t be safe, otherwise. How did you know?”

Scree smiled. “These old men is willing to follow a woman. They knows what it’s like.”

Keeble grunted.

“I would’ve though a wanderer would know what it’s like too.” Scree smiled.

Half an hour after they’d started, the dwife motioned the small precession to a halt.

“The Largin Gate is just ahead,” Keeble whispered.

Scree sent Cliff and the Blue Troop forward, listening in his head as they reported back then took down the two monsters that guarded the final room.

“Let’s go.”

Largin Gate led out into a short slice in the side of the mountain. High glassy walls loomed over the path until it opened out into a wide, steep sided valley. There, they found a trail a headless cat could’ve followed. The fleeing dwarves had left a path down to the tree line, and probably all the way through the forest. Scree guessed there were about three hundred of them, and that they had about half a kilo of bushcraft between them. All he needed to know was if they were to follow.

He tried the radio again. <Meledrin, you theres?>

There was no reply.

<Meledrin—>

<I am present, Scree. Are you returning?>

<No. Slight problems.>

<What is it?>

<Nobody who cans help us under the mountains. Theys all gone norths.>

<How is it that you know that?>

<Cause there is some heres. The ones who couldn’t run quick enough. So does we chase the others, or forget about it and get back to the ship?>

<I do not know. I shall query Kim.>

That was all he’d wanted in the first place.

<Scree, what’s going on?>

<None of those Singers here. All gone north or dead.>

<Shit.>

<We chasing?>

<How far are they?>

<Left yesterday afternoons.>

<Shit.>

<Chase in the ship?>

<We’re pretty well hidden in this valley and haven’t been bothered at all yet. If we fly out into the open we could bring all sorts of attention.>

<We chase on foots for a while then. We thinks about it again later.>

<Ok, then. Keep in touch.>

<Right.>

Scree examined their surroundings. He examined the dwarves huddled just outside the cave entrance and decided his team would never catch anyone if they tagged along. But if he left them on their own they’d likely not live long at all. Keeble might have been the only one in the group with a magical song, but the others could probably learn to fix things like he did if they couldn’t find anyone else.

“Cliff, you stays with the dwarves and come along as quick as you cans. The rest of us is going to trys to catch the first groups.”

“What about me?” Keeble asked.

“You can come if you cans keep up. But we won’ts be waiting.”

“I think I’ll stay with Cliff.”

“Good.” He checked to make sure the Green and Yellow Troops were ready, though they always would be. “Let’s goes.”

There was a worn game trail leading northwards and the trampled path made by the escaping dwarves more or less followed. It looked like they’d been moving quickly but the trolls could move quicker. They could run all day without getting tired. It was getting on towards noon and Scree guessed they’d catch the stragglers, the oldest and the youngest, before midnight even though they’d had nearly a full day’s start.

He started to run and the others followed.

#

“What’s that?” Scree slowed to a walk and cocked his head to listen. There was something. <Stone, what you hearings?>

<Don’t know. Something.>

<Checks it out. Be careful thoughs.>

<Already checking.>

The main pack continued forward at a walk. For the last half hour they’d been following the edge of a wide, steep-sided gully. The dwarves had moved along the bottom but Scree didn’t like the ambush options if his troops were down there as well. The thick forest hid most of the sky and threw the world into permanent gloom though they were still well short of dusk. It would hide the opposition as well.

<Fight.>

<Whats? Who?>

<Aliens, dwarves and humans.>

<Screeching cats. Come ons>

Scree led the way forward at a full run. He leapt over obstacles, ducked low hanging branches, swerved and dodged as he readied his gun. He didn’t know who was fighting who exactly, but he needed those dwarves alive. When he stopped on the edge of the gully and looked out over the fight, he quickly worked out what was happening.

The hurgon were in control. There were only about eighty dwarves left, but humans and elves had joined them. The humans wore off-green uniforms that would help them blend with their surroundings and carried weapons like the Ravens from near the first gate. There were about twenty all up and a similar number of elves. A lot of elves were using human weapons as well.

Scree thought he’d better make everyone knew whose side he was on. He gave a battle cry then started firing into the backs of the nearest aliens.

The humans had taken up a defensive position against the opposite wall of the gully where a few slight humps in the ground offered a bit of cover, though seeing they were professional soldiers, Scree wondered what they were doing down there in the first place. He stayed where he was at the top of the slope and fired. The troops arrived and started to let loose.

The explosion of the first monster certainly got everyone’s attention. The humans gave a ragged shout to encourage their flagging companions.

Scree fired a few more shots then tried to think of a plan. They could just keep firing, but the weapon he was using fired bullets and would run out sooner or later. There were fifty or sixty hurgon down in the gully. Giant bats circled overhead probably carrying more of the aliens and waiting for the call to join the battle.

Down in the gully, there were a few exploded alien suits of armor, but the trolls’ allies were falling faster.

“Youse keep firing, I’m going down there.”

He jumped down into the gully and raced towards the battle. He knew the monsters wouldn’t be quick enough to follow him with their weapons, but if one was already pointing in the right direction as he went past... He paused to set his shoulder into the back of a blue and green suit of armor. With a heave he toppled it onto the ground. Then he was running again. The air crackled nearby as a monster set off a shot. Missed.

Scree ran in crazy, dodging lines and dived over a low, protective mound at the far side of the gully. The defenders watched him silently as he tried to catch his breath. He saw a human with a patch on the shoulder of his uniform and crawled quickly to his side.

The human said something and smiled, but Scree couldn’t understand. He shrugged. But he saw what he was after clipped to the man’s belt. He grabbed the radio and pulled it free. The human complained about that but Scree held up a stalling finger. He found the switch that turned it on easy enough, but it took time to work out how to change the level of the sounds.

<Kim? Mel?>

<Yeah, Scree. How’s it going out there?>

<Not good. Under attack. Found humans and dwarves and elves.>

The human by his side was trying to get his attention, but it wasn’t about anything important. He was just trying to communicate in general.

<Just keeps talking. Kim, I got a radio here.>

<What? The dwarves own the highest technology on this planet, Scree, and they don’t have radios. What the hell are you talking about?>

Scree adjusted the level control on the radio until he could hear Kim chattering. The soldier grabbed the radio from Scree and spoke into it.

<Right, Kim, talks to this human for me. Tells him we gots to get out of here now. We can kills all the monsters, but probably not before they kill all the dwarves.>

As Kim and the soldier spoke, Meledrin translated quietly in Scree’s head.

<Who are you?>

<Captain Dominic Thorpe, Special Air Services.>

<British SAS? Jeeze louise. Well, Major Scree, that’s the big guy by your side, says you have to get out of there right now. He says the trolls will live and the aliens, will die, but not before a lot of others are dead.>

<We’d love to get out of here, but—>

<Kim, tells him that they have to just run. The monsters is too slow to follow.>

Kim passed on the message and Scree listened to Meledrin’s translation of the reply.

<We’d love to, but most of these folks’ve been running since yesterday and haven’t got a lot left in them. And besides that, we ran in the past and more bats came down on top of us.>

<Tells him they got to, Kim. But I think we’ll need the Hakahei very soon.> Another couple of monsters exploded as the trolls continued to fire.

<Scree I don’t know if that’s a good idea.>

<No choice.>

<Right. But how the hell do you get into the ship?>

<You find a clearing. We heads there. You is on the ground withs the Lander waiting for us.>

<Sounds easy.>

<Is. We is on the other side of the mountain, almost directly north.>

<Right.> Kim said something in her own language and the soldier replied. <The Captain says he has something to signal with, Scree. I’ll find you.>

<Right. Does it quick then. We’ll start heading south and signal in a couple of minutes. Tells the Captain the plan.>

At the end of his conversation with Kim, the soldier shook his head. Then he gave a resigned shrug and started shouting to his charges. He received a groan of protest in reply but the humans started trying to get the locals organized.

Using hand signals, Scree managed to tell the Captain that he’d act as a decoy and the others had to make the most of the chance. He didn’t think he’d be in much danger. He was quick, the aliens were slow. Easy.

When it appeared everyone was ready, Scree broke from cover and ran north. After a few meters he zagged across towards the far side of the gully. The aliens couldn’t hit him, but a good portion of them tried to track his movement, swiveling slowly. It wouldn’t be long before the trees gave him cover.

A tree exploded not far away, sending down a shower of branches. Scree dodged. Too late. A branch hit his shoulder. It took a long gouge of flesh and knocked him to the ground. He cursed as he struggled to his feet and stumbled onwards. His arm hung uselessly at his side. Not broken but might as well be for all the good it would do him in the short term. A sizzle of energy grazed past his other shoulder, melting the EVA suit and cooking the skin beneath. Scree fell to the ground and stayed there. He breathed deeply, gritting his teeth against the pain in both his shoulders. He tried to look dead.

A few minutes later he raised his head and looked around. There was nobody nearby. He rolled carefully onto his back. Both arms were an agony. Blood gushed from one, the other burned.

Trying to ignore the pain, Scree sat up slowly.

<Scree, you right?> Gem asked.

<Livings.>

<Where you?>

<Fifty meters north of fight. Middle of gully.>

But the fight seemed to be evaporating, for the moment. The refugees had run, scurrying southwards as quickly as they could, and the monsters had set off in slow pursuit. They had no chance of keeping up, but others would arrive soon.

<I see you. Comin’.>

He saw Gem running towards him. The young trollop from Yellow Troop came across the ground in a low crouch, gun slung over her shoulder to keep her hands free. She winced when she saw his wounds. Scree clamped a hand over the gash, hurting his other arm in the process.

“Stinking cats guts.”

Scree didn’t know if it was he or Gem who swore.

Kim’s voice erupted in Scree’s head. <What’s going on?>

<Scree hurt, boss,> Gem said, standing and looking.

<Shit. Is he all right?>

<Good as dead, boss. Loosin’ blood by the bucket load.>

<Shit, shit. I see the smoke signal.>

Scree could see it as well, red smoke drifting up through the trees.

<Where you landin’, boss? I’s comin back.>

<Okay, there’s a clearing about three hundred and fifty meters to the south east of the signal. I’ll be putting down there. Don’t bother coming back if you don’t have Scree.>

<What?>

<Bring Scree back.>

<Don’t know if he’ll make it.>

<Well, we aren’t leaving without him, dead or alive.>

<Right.>

Scree couldn’t think about much other than keeping a hand clamped around his bleeding shoulder, but Gem swore under her breath and got him on his feet. She supported him as they made their way to the eastern wall of the gully.

Stone had taken charge of the rest of the troops and the refugees. <We see ship. On our way.>

<Where you at, Gem?> Chasm asked. <Gulch on his way.>

Gem gave their position. <What about Blues?>

<They seen the smoke. They comin’ too, but a while yet. Them old timers slowin’ ‘em down.>

Scree saw Gulch above them on the side of the gully, his shock of red hair obvious amongst the greenery.

“Minced cats. This gunna hurt, Scree. All cliffs along here, hey.”

Gem directed Scree up a slight slope to the base of the low dirt wall. Scree knew what was needed of him and released his injured arm so he could reach up. Gulch took his blood-covered hand and hauled him upwards. Both his arms seemed to explode with pain. Gem pushed from below.

And Scree remembered nothing more.

33: One Task

Ping stood quietly, one shaking hand hovering over the button that would close the door, the other working reflexively at the material of her torn breeches. Behind her, forty dwarves and elves were sitting in the cargo hold. Those who were able were seeing to injured companions. The canyons of freight and boxes hid much of the activity.

Ping returned her attention to the world outside. In the clearing below, the third load of passengers were climbing aboard the Lander. Some were stumbling with fatigue, some were being carried. The human soldiers were crouched around the edge of the clearing. They looked out into the forest with studied calm, weapons raised to their shoulders.

The hurgon had not arrived yet, but they wouldn’t be far away. The huge bats were circling closer.

The Lander rose unsteadily into the air. Ten seconds later it lurched in through the doorway, wobbling dangerously. Ping stepped back to avoid being hit. Passengers immediately stumbled out amongst those already there. Some sank to the floor at the first possible moment, others stood, dazed and confused. A third group set about trying to help where they could. Even they did not seem more than half there.

A horrendous screech of pain and fear snapped her attention back outside. One of the bats had approached the ship but was now struggling to get away. A burst of fire on its flank halted its progress and it tumbled to the ground. Two seconds later another of the creatures suffered the same fate. The bat demolished a large section of the forest just a hundred meters beyond the edge of the clearing.

The trolls were using the ship’s guns enjoying the chance to finally join in the fun. Did Kim know? Ping decided she wouldn’t tell.

The Lander struggled into the air again and moved slowly out the door. It dropped a couple of meters before Kim took control of the descent. The next trip would almost complete the process, leaving only a few of the soldiers to watch for the return of Scree and his helpers. Ping didn’t have access to a radio, but she longed to know where they were. There were also the other group to think about, making their slower way from the caves where the dwarves had lived. Without a radio, Ping knew nothing of their location either. She stood near the door and watched the clearing and the sky and tried to see beneath the forest canopy.

After dropping off the next load, Kim climbed from the Lander and made her way to Ping’s side.

“Gem and Gulch are about a hundred meters away with Scree,” she said, wiping sweat from he eyes. She looked out at the forest as well, as if she’d be able to see the troll.

“What about the others?”

“What..? Oh. They’ll be a good while yet. They’re about ten kilometers away and slowing every step, apparently. We’ll get them in the ship when Scree arrives.”

“Why not use the Lander?”

“Well, I—”

“There may not be anywhere to land the ship.”

“Shit.” Kim stood staring out the door for long seconds. “But if the birds attack the Lander out there...”

“The trolls can protect you with the guns.”

As if to prove the point another bat flew too close to the ship for the liking of Red Troop so someone shot it down with three well-aimed volleys.

“Right then. I suppose.” Kim used her radio to ask the trolls to cover her and twenty-five seconds later the Lander was gone from sight, around the curve of the hull and to the south.

And now Ping knew nothing. There were dozens of strangers behind her that could have used her help, but her task was to watch the door and close it if the need arose. The human soldiers down in the clearing were looking nervous but kept their attention fixed outwards. The bats were not coming close, but the hurgon that pursued them must be closing in by the minute while the only means of reaching the safety of the cargo hold had just flown away. The trolls were watchful, but not worried.

As Ping watched, the men below became even more tense. They all turned in one direction, aiming their weapons into the trees. Chasm and the other trolls suddenly looked a bit more serious as well.

Ten seconds later some of the humans and trolls started firing their weapons into the trees. Ping couldn’t see what they were firing at but it was only a few seconds before something in the trees exploded. Soon, everyone was firing. There were more explosions. Over to one side a hurgon emerged from the trees. Then another and another.

Ping bit her thumbnail and got ready to close the door. Her shaking hand hovered.

A human shouted and fell to the ground. Two seconds later, the trolls in the ship started to use their weapons as well. At first they used the light weapons but quickly learned the other weapons worked better. Each bullet punched a hole through armor and knocked the alien from its feet.

Another human screamed and fell to the ground. Another. The shots from the ship stopped and there was ten seconds of tense stillness.

The leader of the humans asked a question and an elf gave a halting translation. “Long must wait?”

The was a pause before a troll replied. “Kim just getting to the others now. And Gem just about here. Don’t shoot nothing now.”

Forty seconds later Scree and his two helpers emerged from the trees.

Ping wiped tears away from her eyes. It wasn’t obvious if the troll was dead or merely unconscious. She didn’t know which she would prefer.

Gulch and Gem lowered him carefully to the ground and one of the humans hurried to examine his wounds. He removed his pack, brought forth a small green box and started to work.

Kim had given Ping her wristwatch. She watched the hands ticking slowly around the dial though she could count the time well enough in her head. Outside, bats occasionally drifted close, as if testing to see if whoever was in control of the guns was still alert. Little did they realize that the trolls would always be alert. Trolls and humans occasionally fired into the trees, targeting aliens Ping couldn’t see.

Ping wanted to see where Kim was. Could the guns protect her from ten kilometers away? What happened if there were already hurgon on the ground near Cliff and the following dwarves?

She was startled when Kim finally returned. The Lander buzzed around the side of the ship, overshooting the doorway. After a brief pause it slowly reversed. The doors were open at the back. Cliff and his troop were hanging out over thin air— one foot and one hand all that kept them in touch. At least they were having fun. Two score dwarves huddled beyond them. They were sitting on each other’s laps, standing shoulder to shoulder in the aisle.

When Kim had gone back past the door and started to come forward, Ping could see her swearing. She slapped away thick, inquisitive hands as the three dwarves packed into the seat beside her tried to press buttons. The vehicle thumped down onto the deck and the passengers climbed out. Kim worked at the controls to go pick up those still on the ground.

It took forever to load Scree carefully onto the Lander and for everyone else to climb aboard. A minute later the small craft was in the hold and Ping completed her one and only task— she hit the button to close the outer door. She watched the as the door slid all the way from the ceiling down to the floor though she didn’t know what she’d do if it didn’t work.

Kim swung herself out of the Lander and had a quick look around. As she started to hurry towards the lift she said, “A couple dozen bats are circling,” as if she could still see out the door. “Hurgon are on the ground and ships are starting to move into position above us.”

Even if Ping had thought to reply, Kim was already gone, racing toward the lift.

Ping examined the ragged group littering the floor of the hold. The injured were being tended to— by elves and humans mainly. Most of those not involved in either side of that process were sitting on the floor, looking as if they were quite happy to stay there for the foreseeable future. Only the trolls looked as if they were ready for more action.

“Wha’ we do now?”

It was a strange group, overall. Trolls in their special, colored EVA suits, humans in their grays and greens designed to blend with the forest, all others in rags.

“Hey. Wha’ we do now?”

Ping realized that Cliff was speaking to her. The big troll was standing nearby, forcing her to take a step back. All the trolls were looking in her direction. They reminded her of Scree. They made her nervous.

“What? I...”

“Wha’ we supposed t’ do?” He scratched at the place where his ear had once been. “Can’t stand here all day.”

Ping didn’t know what to say. He was asking her? How was she to know? She was about to say as much, to point out that she had been on the ship no longer than the trolls, but stopped. For a long time she had been trying to find some way in which she might help Scree. But he had been so competent that all she could do most of the time was tag along and slow him down. The rest of the trolls seemed just as competent, but they were asking her questions, they needed her help. There was something she could do to prove she could be useful, not just to the trolls but to everyone on the ship.

Ping took a deep breath and tried to think. It wasn’t easy with the trolls watching her and the others spread around on the floor like the wreckage of a flood.

The little hospital was on Level 3, but there was hardly room for everyone there. There were lots of beds on Level 2 though. “Ummm... Perhaps we should... try to get everyone up to Level 2.”

“Right. Need... Somethin’ t’ carry hurt people.” Cliff smiled, as if the idea of carrying the injured was a strange concept.

“We could just carry them,” Bones suggested, looking at Ping. “They ain’t that heavy. We could carry them for sure. No problems I reckon.” He looked at one of his companions. “We could carry them, couldn’t we?”

“You can’t just lug injured people around.” Ping looked around. How would you move injured people? “Stretchers,” she said. Obviously. “They will be in the hospital on Level 3. Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah,” Flint said. He had a crooked nose and a big bushy moustache that dribbled down past his chin. “That take all day, though.”

That was obvious too. There wouldn’t be that many stretchers and it was a long way to walk with them. If the trolls were so smart why didn’t they come up with the ideas?

Ping tried to think. “Well, how can we carry...” The boxes in the hold were big and machines were used to carry them. A Loader could carry half a dozen elves, or maybe ten dwarves.

“Wha’?” Cliff asked.

But she wasn’t sure. She cleared her throat and looked around. All the trolls were still watching her. “Who wants to learn how to drive?” Would Kim want the trolls driving the Loaders? It didn’t matter. Kim wasn’t here to tell them one way or the other.

“What?”

“This way.” She beckoned the troll to follow, and the rest of Blue Troop came along. She almost had to run to stay ahead of their long strides. Through a large set of doors they found more huge boxes and, on the far side of the hold, two Loaders lined up side by side.

“Two of you need to learn to drive them. The rest of you need to find something, boards or something, to lay over the...” she gestured... “the front bits.”

Ping watched Cliff stare doubtfully at the Loaders for a moment, before motioning to Bones and Quartz to climb in and start learning. The rest went searching.

Ping studied a Loader’s controls for several minutes with the two trolls looking over her shoulder. Bones was about the same age as Ping and talked more than any of the other trolls.

“Should be fun to drive,” he said. Apparently he also had trouble staying still— he bounced about on the spot. “All them other ones up in the hangar work the same way, you think? They the same?”

Ping shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she replied absently.

“Maybe I’ll go see later.”

“Hmmm...” Ping tried to concentrate. She had watched Scree fly the little ship on Kiva and then watched Kim flying the Hakahei. She knew enough to make some suggestions.

“Hop in,” Ping said.

Both trolls leapt into the Loaders. Ping stood with Bones and showed him some of the controls. The troll hunched over as he concentrated.

“They ain’t moving at all.” Bones moved the joystick that Ping thought was for steering and pushed the...’go’ lever. He squirmed on his seat and moved the controls the other way. “How do we get them to move? They ain’t doing anything.”

“We must need power.” Ping started looking.

Bones looked as well. He stabbed a button at random, then paused. His finger wavered over his next button of choice as he waited to see if there was any action. He stabbed again. Tense pause...

Finally, the Loader rose a small way off the ground. The troll laughed and offered Ping a smile. “Huh, now getting somewhere.” Two lights, one front and one on the back, were flashing. “Be carryin’ people in no time.”

While Ping showed Quartz which button would get her started, Bones moved his Loader around the relatively small space available. He concentrated fiercely, still hunched forward, hands gripping the controls tightly. His lips moved constantly.

It was only three minutes before the two trolls were dancing the vehicles around, humming past close to each other. They didn’t go very fast but sometimes found themselves stuck in difficult spot. They would stop to consider, play with the controls, and start dancing again.

Cliff and his followers returned fifteen minutes later. They had commandeered Ruby, a young trollop from Green Troop, and between them lugged two large pieces of metal whose true purpose escaped Ping. That didn’t worry her— she couldn’t imagine what half the things in the ship were used for. All that mattered was that they suited current requirements. With the new platforms sitting securely on the front of the Loaders, Bones and Quartz headed slowly toward the refugees.

When the first load was moving to the freight elevator, Ping wondered what she should do next. The humans were still looking after the wounded, walking along beside the mechanized stretchers. Trolls were organizing the next load. Trolls were herding those who were healthy enough to walk on their own. Only one Loader would fit on the lift per trip, but some upright passengers would fit as well. Lift 4 also went all the way up to the top of the ship— a few people could fit in there.

So Ping stood and watched as the trolls chivvied people into action. The dwarves grumbled all the way, and the elvish women obviously didn’t like taking orders from the men, but most did so anyway, with put upon looks and much sighing.

It took three trips to ferry the wounded upstairs. Ping walked along beside the last load with Green Troop and the last of the healthy dwarves. The leader of the humans, Captain Thorpe, was already upstairs. The last elves had long ago decided that sitting in a cargo hold was beneath their dignity and gone up.

The first freight lift only went up one floor, to the Level 9 hold. From there, they had to make their way to the other side of the ship to find the next one. It took them all the way to Level 3 in a smooth steady climb. Ping wanted to go one level higher, but that was the lift’s limit.

“This lift is slow,” Bones said while he fidgeted in his seat. “You’d think they’d make it quicker. The Loader could go quicker if... you know... it could go up and down. Slow, slow, slow.”

Ping sighed quietly. Flint, standing nearby, tugged on the end of his moustache and tried not to smile. Nobody else could understand.

The hallways on Level 3 were relatively narrow and seemed over-crowded. People were lying on the floor or leaning against the walls. There was the passage that went all the way around the outside of the ship but they ignored that, as if comforted by the confined spaces.

A lot of them would normally be expected to die, but Ping had seen a dozen machines that she did not understand in the little hospital. She had to wonder what the humans could do to treat the wounded that neither she nor the others would think possible.

Those with more serious injuries were being left where they were on the floor. They were easier to keep an eye on there, Ping supposed. And perhaps it was easier to get them to the hospital from there as well. Some humans emerged from one of the smaller lifts. They had a stretcher and used it to take an elf with a broken and splinted leg to the floor above.

The organization and treatment of patients continued without help from Ping. She gave a slight smile, letting herself think, for a second at least, that she had organized the operation so well that it could now run without her. But the human soldiers were the main reason. Their leader kept them moving, kept them focused, with casual efficiency. He never shouted. He never really explained anything. A few words was all it took.

Ping decided she had earned her smile. Captain Thopre may be in charge up here, but she had gotten everyone out of the Hold. It had been her plan and her instructions that had started the process. She had been useful and that was something to be proud of amongst all these older, more experienced people.

When two soldiers came from the hospital with a stretcher, Thorpe was with them. The tall, thin man in the red hat examined the options lying on the floor and pointed to Scree, lying still and unconscious not far away. Ping wondered what that meant. Was the troll in a lot of pain? Did he feel the gash on his shoulder?

He would live though. He had to live. Would the other trolls listen to Kim without Scree around? Would they be as capable as Scree? Would they exhibit his best qualities or his worst.

Ping wiped tears from her eyes again as she watched the soldiers carry Scree towards the hospital. They had to step over resting dwarves to get there. They had to push past indignant elves. Those not injured were still milling around, getting in the way, disrupting the flow of those who had tasks to perform.

Ping looked at Stone but the troll didn’t seem inclined to do anything. She sniffed and cleared her throat— her job hadn’t been completed yet.

“Hello everyone,” she said. Nobody took any notice. Most couldn’t understand anyway. Or probably hear either. Keeble was sitting on the floor nearby. “Keeble, can you get everyone into the dining hall, please? Those that don’t need help.”

“I thought you were in charge. Now you want me to do the work for you?”

Ping just stared, not quite sure how to reply to that. Did she have any right to ask Keeble to do anything? Probably not. She swallowed and started to turn away.

Apparently, Stone had other ideas. “They not understand her, Keeble. Just do what she ask.”

“I don’t have to take orders from her?”

“Don’t think of it as an order if you wants. Think of it as a sensible suggestion. Everyone is getting in the way here. Some of your friends could die if them humans get distracted.” He shook his head in wonder, watching as another patient was carried away.

Keeble wound the gears on his mechanical arm in and out. “They aren’t my friends.”

“Do it anyway.”

“Why are you following her orders?”

“I’ll follow any good sensible suggestions I gets, Keeble. Good way to stay alive. Now do it.”

The dwarf sighed but rose slowly to his feet.

34: Manual Operations

When Keeble tried to get everyone moving, they wouldn’t listen. Elves were elves and weren’t about to listen to any dwarf and the dwarves deliberately avoided meeting his eye. Obviously, someone had recognized him as a Wanderer and the word had spread. None of them would listen now. With a shake of his head, he went into the mess by himself to sit down at a table.

A few minutes later, others started to enter— not at his bidding, of course, but simply because they wanted to. Dwarves and elves wandered in the door, singly and in groups, liked the look of the place and decided to stay. Elves only sat with elves. Dwarves only sat with dwarves. At first, not even the latter would sit at Keeble’s table. Soon though, the others were full, or occupied by elves, and they had no choice. And just because they sat near him, didn’t mean they had to talk to him. Ari sat next to him, as silent as the others.

Keeble wound the gears on his arm. They needed oiling. They were in a bad state of disrepair all together.

For a long time it seemed nothing else would happen. Dwarves sat grumbling. Elves sat silently. A pair of trollops from Yellow Troop, Gem and Pool, stood by the door, as if to stop anyone from escaping. Apparently they weren’t going to do anything else. Keeble supposed that maybe he should say something, but nobody would listen to him. Where was... Ping? Maybe she had gone to the bridge to help there. That was more important than talking to this lot. He sneered. What would she do, anyway? So Keeble stayed silent and in his seat. And in all his days could never have imagined what happened next.

Ari’s chair scraped back and the dwife rose nervously to her feet. She cleared her throat. She twisted the stiff material of her horribly shortened dress in her hands. “Ummm... Everyone...”

There were shocked gasps and shouts of outrage from the dwarves. For Ari to stand up uninvited and draw attention to herself was unthinkable, even here, even in a situation that none of them had faced before. Keeble blushed despite himself.

But Ari would not be silenced, though she was blushing herself and hung her head for a moment. “I will stand here until I am heard,” she said softly. It was doubtful anyone beyond those closest heard anything at all. The word spread, however, and the talk in the room slowly dropped to an angry murmur.

Then it appeared the dwife did not know what to say. Finally, she raised her head and spoke. “The world is a different place,” she said.

Angry shouts in reply. She was heckled despite the fact nobody could really argue with what she’d said. Keeble had never really thought of it like that himself. He’d thought that his journey to Earth and Nexis had affected only him, but now he realized he was wrong and it had taken a woman to point it out.

“It is different. Keeble was called Wanderer because he failed the Rock Singing test, but he proved he could Sing when he helped us escape from Tab Cavern. He has come back from the dead— how can any dwarf here pretend the world has not changed?”

“Nothing has changed, woman,” someone shouted.

“Then perhaps we should change.”

Keeble narrowed his eyes and wound the gears in and out. In and out. Was she right? Or was it just dwife chatter? Either way, Keeble could see that, if nothing else, the looks in the eyes of the other dwives had changed. In and out. He could do with some coffee.

But Ari hadn’t finished. “We are the Wanderers now,” she said. “We have no family or friends. We are in Keeble’s home. We must look to him to tell us what to do.”

She quickly sat down and stared at the top of the stainless steel table.

Nobody said anything. What could you say when somebody said that your world was no longer what it had once been? Well, it was easy to say something when that somebody was wrong, but when you could think of no arguments against them... Keeble decided the men could probably all think of a dozen reasons to leave things the way they’d been, but they were not logical reasons a dwarf would say out loud. And the dwives? They were the ones who started to talk first, whispering to each other and stealing glances at those around them.

Keeble didn’t know what he wanted to believe. If Ari was wrong, then he was a Wanderer still and would have no friends among the dwarves. If she was right... The women had already decided she was, and nothing anyone could say now would convince them otherwise. There could be trouble. The last dwife revolt had been almost a hundred years ago and did not end nicely.

Gem and Pool still stood by the door, not talking, hardly moving. They were women, but cool and confident. Pool was the older of the two, with a crosshatch of scars on her cheek and her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a look of indifference that suggested she didn’t care one way or the other what task she was given. But what orders had she been given? To stand there with Gem?

What was happening on the bridge?

Keeble suddenly wondered why he was even there when he should be upstairs, or trying to fix the engines. He’d taken the straps of the radio away from his head earlier. He quickly replaced it so he could listen. The others in the room looked at him strangely when, seemingly, he started talking to himself. If they wanted to know, they’d just have to ask, though his position as Wanderer might be firming by the moment as he chatted away. And of course they had to decide if talking to him was admitting that he wasn’t a Wanderer? And if he was no longer a Wanderer...

“Kim?”

<Yeah, Keeble?>

“What’s happening?” He couldn’t get used to the idea of talking in his head.

<Batteries hit full charge a minute ago, apparently. And we hit top speed in... sixteen minutes.>

“We’re in space?” He hadn’t realized, though he could remember the fluctuations in gravity as the ship’s systems adjusted to the changing conditions.

“How long until we jump? And how long is the jump?”

<We’re going three jumps of just under fourteen hours. About 84.5 light-years. Plus about two hours between jumps for charging.>

“When am I supposed to get the engines aligned? I think the batteries will charge quicker once I’ve done that.”

<No time at the moment. When we get to Nexis, maybe. You can ask for volunteers from the dwarves to help.>

“I don’t know if they’ll want to help me.”

<Why not? Oh, the Wanderer thing, right? Well, just get some lanterns organized then, and tell them all what’s happening.>

He turned to look at the trolls guarding the door before remembering they were actually trollops. But apparently they’d already heard the instructions. Gem nodded at Keeble’s unspoken order and sauntered out, looking to see if she could get some lanterns.

Taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the look of recognition in the trollop’s eyes, Keeble rose to his feet. The noise in the room died away. “Soon it’s going to be dark,” he said. A few of the dwarves looked at the ceiling lights, as if wondering what would go wrong. None of them looked at Keeble’s face, pretending that the voice was coming from nowhere. “This ship can travel between the stars, but to do that it needs to do something that takes a lot of power so there isn’t enough power to run the lights.” It was easier than explaining everything. “There isn’t enough power to run anything at all. It’ll be dark for nearly fourteen hours.”

There were groans from some of the listeners, though Keeble thought it was a bit funny, coming mainly from people who’d lived in caves all of their lives. He didn’t bother looking at the elves. He knew how they’d be reacting— they wouldn’t be reacting at all. Like the dwarves, the elves sat mainly in two groups, men and women, but looked as calm as they might have done eating breakfast.

“There are lanterns, so we won’t have to actually sit in the dark, but there isn’t a lot we can do while we wait. There are some games...” He didn’t know how to play any of them, and the dwarves might well be insulted by the idea of playing games. “And there are books, for those who can read the language.” None of them could read the language... “We could also have some language lessons, so everyone can understand what the others are saying.”

“Why do we care what the elves say?” a dwarf shouted.

That was just stupid, they could already understand the elves. For a moment Keeble wondered if he was like that, only thinking when he knew the thoughts would lead to the conclusion he wanted.

Keeble asked, “What about what the Captain says?”

“Who is the captain?” Keeble recognized the dwarf who spoke. It was Tasko, a Singer.

“Her name is Kim, she is—”

“A woman? A woman is guiding this ship?” Tasko’s face was flushing as red as his hair.

Keeble nodded. It was strange— he did not like the idea of Ari speaking to the group, but he was apparently willing to follow Kim. He kept telling himself she’d get them all killed, but he still did as she said. And they were still alive. And Ping had helped him repair the clock. He sneered. It was more accurate to say that he’d helped her. A month ago he would have shuddered at the thought of such a thing.

“When we’ve finished with the language, I can teach you something of how this ship works.”

“You know how it works?” Makar this time, old and gruff and weathered by too many years outside the mountain collecting hides.

Keeble was slightly embarrassed. They were thinking of him as a Wanderer, as someone who could know nothing. But he did know things, just nowhere near as much as he would have liked. “I know some. I know enough to keep us moving as long as nothing serious goes wrong.”

And with the thought of something serious going wrong... The hole in the hull. “Tasko, can you feel the ship? Are there any other Singers here?”

Eight men raised their hands. “And Kaper and Deis are with the wounded.”

“Can you feel the ship?”

“What?” Tasko hadn’t moved. He was eyeing Keeble suspiciously.

“Tell me if you can feel the hull.”

Tasko got a far away look and started to softly Sing his Song. “There’s nothing,” he said. “It isn’t stone.”

“It’s stone,” Keeble said. “Apparently most of the ship is made of stone, just nothing like we’ve ever known.”

“I tell you—”

“It is stone.” So he still couldn’t fix the hole, then.

<Damn... Out of the frying pan...> Kim’s voice in Keeble’s ear shocked him. <Hold on, everyone, we’re jumping now.>

He fumbled for the talk button on his radio. “What? Why?” Everyone was looking at him.

<We’ve got company.>

“Yes but—”

“Hold on.”

Keeble asked no more. “Everyone, we’re about to jump, get ready.” Why was it ‘jumping’? It was nothing like jumping.

There was nothing he could feel, but Keeble knew as they approached the gate. He could tell that the other Singers felt it as well. It was written on their faces— the power of it, the depth.

Just before the ship’s power cut out, Keeble heard Kim’s voice, soft in his ear as if she were talking to herself...

<Holy shit. What have I—>

The lights went out. All the newcomers shifted nervously before trolls started returning with lanterns. Gem with a handful, then dark skinned Sandy and one-eyed Peak. A lantern was placed on each table. And others were left, unlit, near the door

“We’ll start to teach you how to speak the language of Rongo,” Keeble said. If the dwarves weren’t kept busy they’d be pulling the ship apart in a matter of minutes.

But Keeble didn’t care about talking— he just wanted to go to the bridge to find out what was wrong.

#

“What’s the problem?” He lifted his lantern a little higher, as if it would show more than the scattering of lanterns already there.

Kim sighed. She looked haggard, a decade older than when he’d left the ship with the trolls. Tuki was the only other person on the bridge and he hardly looked any better.

“I learned a very important lesson,” Kim said. She leaned back in her seat and covered her face with her hands.

Keeble smiled. About time. “And what lesson is that?”

“Don’t set the timer until we’re about to jump. Not until we’re ready.”

“Why?”

She took a deep breath. “Because we were only going 2.3 kilometers a second when we went through the gate. The timer was ready for our full jump.”

“Fourteen hours?”

“Yes.”

That didn’t sound good. “So, how far will we travel? How fast will we be going when we come back out?”

Kim cleared her throat and wouldn’t look at him. “Not very.”

“You’re saying we may not get out at all?”

“We won’t. We’ll stop in about 3 hours.”

Keeble slumped down on the bottom step. “What do I tell everyone?”

Kim sighed again. “Tell them what you want. There’s nothing we can do.”

“There might be.”

“Like what?” Kim snapped. “We’re screwed.”

“How long will our air last?”

“You tell me?”

Keeble nodded. Yes, that’s my area. “The timer can be set for almost two days, so there must be enough air for that, but we have more people than the ship is designed for and who knows the condition of the systems...” He nodded again. “But they’ll have allowed some room for error. Say 85 people at four days.” There were about twice that many people on the ship. Keeble looked up at Kim. “Two days. Maybe.”

Kim was slumped in the chair, already defeated.

“I’ll get some dwarves together and you can tell them what’s happening.”

“There’s no point—”

“So you’ll just sit there and die?” Keeble shouldn’t have been surprised, watching womanly nature finally reassert itself, but he was. He gave a grunt of disgust at the thought. “I’ll get some dwarves. You can tell them. You were the one who got us here after all.”

Keeble took his lantern and made his way back down stairs.

#

Keeble looked around the mess hall. Dwarves, humans, trolls, dwives and elves. Ping was there too. They all looked back at him. He hadn’t bothered to get Kim. He could tell them as well as she. In fact, in the case of dwarves, he could probably do it better.

“You mean we is stuck in this place?” River asked. The trollop was leaning against the wall, EVA suite half unzipped. She didn’t look happy.

“At this stage, yes, but if anyone has any ideas...”

For a long time nobody said anything and Keeble couldn’t work out if they were trying to solve the problem or imagining their deaths.

Ari was the first to react, nervously raising her hand. “The ship is full of air under pressure. Could we use that to push ourselves forward more, like a jet?”

Keeble stared for a moment. The idea wouldn’t work, but it wasn’t completely stupid. One of the others beat him to the explanation. Dogar’s words were harsh, but Keeble could tell that he would have voiced the idea himself had he thought of it.

“No way that will work, dwife. This ship is several thousand ton so there isn’t enough air to move us significantly. And if there was enough air for that, then when we got back to our universe we’d have no power plus no air and no momentum. We’d be stranded there long enough to die.”

“This is what we get for leaving a woman in charge,” someone shouted.

“We all knew,” Dogar added. “We should have done—”

“We knew for about a minute before she made the mistake, Dogar. We had no chance. Keeble should have—”

“The line of reasoning is stupid,” Keeble said. “Without Kim you’d all be dead on Sherindel.”

Ari cleared her throat. “Could we turn off the timer then set it for a shorter time?”

Would that work? Keeble turned to look at Ping.

“There isn’t enough power,” Ping said, barely loud enough for everyone to hear. “Or time. The clocks are mechanical, but the timer is set electronically. We need to turn the ship’s power on to be able to adjust the timer... If we had more time we might be able to work out how to change the settings manually, but the clocks are larger than this room.” She sighed. “No time.”

Keeble shrugged. “And anyway, the gates are different. I have no idea where we might end up if we went through the out-bound gate while we are in this universe, and no idea where we would end up if we went through the inbound gate after that.”

Ari slumped slightly. “It could not be any worse than here, surely.”

She was right, little good that it did. They’d only have had enough power for one gate but after they’d arrived wherever it was that they were going they could have thought things through again. But it didn’t matter...

“If we have no chance of getting back as things are now,” Ari said, the only one coming up with idea again, “should we not turn off the timer?”

“Why?”

“Well, we have one battery full of power, but if we allow the gate to open pointlessly...”

“We just went through why it can’t be adjusted, dwife,” someone said coldly.

Ping looked up. “We don’t have to adjust it. All we have to do it disconnect it from the Ohoga engines.”

Keeble decided to remain silent and wait for somebody else to say something. But apparently they had the same idea. “Somebody answer her,” Keeble said eventually.

Dogar had spoken to the dwife before, so all of the dwarves turned to him to speak again.

He grunted in disgust. “That is a good idea, dwife.”

“Then why don’t you go up to the bridge to tell Kim, Dogar?”

“I’m a Gang Boss, Wanderer, I don’t run errands.”

“And I am a Wanderer, so I don’t do anything at all.” Keeble stared until the older dwarf left the room, grumbling all the way.

When Dogar had gone, another dwife nervously raised her hand. “Why do we need to worry about the clocks at all?” Ness said nervously when Keeble nodded. “Surely the Ohoga engine can be activated manually.”

Keeble didn’t say anything— nobody did. He scratched his head. “That could work. Ping, how long do we have?”

The woman looked up. “Just over two hours.”

Keeble grunted. The computers weren’t working. None of the other dwarves could read the language yet. And there were a few hundred manuals that he would have to search to find what he was after.

“Can you read, Ping?”

“A little.”

“Come on then.” He hurried from the room and the woman rose to follow.

“Where are you going?” a dwarf shouted.

“We’ve got two hours to find out how to use the Ohoga Engine manually,” Keeble shouted back over his shoulder. “Everyone stay here.”

There was a mad rush towards the door but after letting Ping through Pool and Gem moved to block the way. Keeble heard one dwarf hit the floor and the others quickly decided that getting past mere women might not be as easy as they thought.

In the Engineering Bay, Keeble immediately started pulling manuals from boxes and cabinets. He tried to remain calm and do things in an organized manner but there were so many manuals and not enough time. Many were on specific systems and machines and could be discarded immediately. Water Recyclers, Fuel Still, Lifts, Intercoms. But within five minutes he had a pile of twenty volumes relating to the Ohoga Engines in one way or another. Then there were the ones that referred to things he didn’t know about at all. They might be useful, though probably not.

“You keep sorting,” Keeble said. “Anything that mentions Ohoga Engines here. Other stuff there. Unknowns there.” He looked at the piles still to be sorted. “I’ll start looking through these to see what I can see.” He picked up the first manual that mentioned ‘Ohoga’ in the title and flipped to the index. He scanned the titles quickly but discovered he was hardly taking notice of what they said.

“Do it properly,” he muttered. “No use going quick if I miss what I’m after.” He took a deep breath and made himself slow down.

“Do you require assistance? Pool said something about you reading?”

Keeble looked up and saw Meledrin standing in the doorway. He almost told her to go away— how could an elf help?— but he bit his tongue. Meledrin, though she was both a woman and an elf, could help. He grunted and motioned her towards the most likely pile. “We are looking for something, anything, about operating the Ohoga Engines manually. Just look through the index and see if you can see anything mentioned. Or something that might be related.”

Meledrin nodded and took a seat close to the pile and started to read.

“Can the other elves read yet?”

Meledrin shook her head. “We have barely started with talking, Keeble. No thought has yet been given to reading.”

“Perhaps you should...”

“It will not happen quickly enough to help.”

Keeble nodded and returned his attention to the books.

There was a manual clock on the wall and Keeble looked up every two minutes only to discover that ten minutes had passed. The words before him were starting to blur— both before and after he read them. He struggled to distinguish the shapes of the letters on the smooth, shiny pages. And he found himself reading sentences three times trying to coax meaning from amongst the common, easily understandable words. An entire manual on how to adjust the Mazad Dublo settings. Another on how to recalibrate the Fitsal Sensors. But what did all that mean?

He flipped pages and threw the latest manual in disgust. He stretched his back and checked the clock. Fifteen minutes to go.

Fifteen minutes? But it had been three quarters of an hour just a couple of minutes ago.

He looked around at all the books that still had to be checked. He grabbed one and... Take a deep breath. Clear the mind. Rest for just a second.

“Anything,” he asked Meledrin and Ping. He wondered if he sounded as empty as he felt.

Ping sighed and shook her head.

Meledrin had been through twice as many books as Keeble and Ping together but she shook her head as well. “No. I...” She held up a hand as if Keeble had been the one speaking. “Perhaps this.” She handed the file to Keeble.

He scanned the page she had been reading. “There’s a switch,” he said. “There’s a switch.”

“What?” Ping went to read over his shoulder. “Where?”

Keeble was still reading. But unfortunately the book wasn’t about the switch, so it didn’t tell him where it was. It gave him the name though. Putting the file down on the floor he started searching through the files he’d already checked. He scrabbled through the pile on the floor, sliding books and files aside. He knew he’d seen something earlier but could not remember exactly where.

Then he found the book he was after and had to find the page.

“Where, Keeble?”

“Shut up. I’m looking.”

“Five minutes, Keeble.”

Then he had it. It was just a switch. He worked out the position and the quickest way to get there. Grabbed a toolbox, raced for the stairs. He tried to pull out the tool for removing wall panels as he ran but his mechanical hand made it impossible. When he reached the panel he dropped the box and pulled open the lid. His hand was sweating. He wiped it on his EVA suit, which didn’t help at all. Shuffling through the toolbox for the tool. He had the panel off minute later. It clattered to the floor and he was through the hatch. Then he was racing through the engine, leaping equipment, ducking pipes as he headed for the switch. And he was there. He pulled the lever and nothing at all happened. He reached out to push the lever back the other direction when he noticed a humming sound. He stood, hand poised over the lever, while the sound grew. Then suddenly it stopped.

“Keeble?” Ping’s voice drifted through the machinery. “Keeble? Are you there? What happened?”

Keeble looked around but nothing seemed to have changed. “I don’t know.” But he knew it hadn’t worked. If it had worked they would be back in the real universe by now. The lights would be on. Machines would be starting up. Kim would be on the radio asking what had happened.

It hadn’t worked. Keeble sat down where he was, head in his hands, and wondered what they were going to do now.

35: Fun to Be Had

Scree was awake in an instant. He sat up, alert, until he realized exactly where he was— the hallway outside the medical bay. It was littered with injured people: elves, dwarves and humans. The soldiers, in their mottled green, were tending to them, working in the light of the lanterns. Through the open Library door, Scree saw a couple of elves reading.

There were voices coming from the mess hall. Raised voices. Arguments. It seemed to be dwarves, from the tone and the timbre, but whoever it was spoke their own language.

Scree started to stand.

“Hey there, buddy. No rush. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Scree turned and saw Captain Thorpe hurrying to his side.

“I feels fine.”

“Maybe, but you lost a lot of blood. You should be careful.”

“Been hurts worse before with nobody to look after me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Scree shrugged, wincing as his shoulders complained loudly. He shifted the focus of the conversation. “Youse speaking my language.”

Thorpe nodded. “It’s surprisingly easy to learn. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but it couldn’t be much more than a day.”

“Where is we?”

Thorpe looked away for a moment. “We’re in the other universe.”

Scree narrowed his eyes. “We dead?”

Thorpe shook his head, nodded. “All but, apparently. We stopped before we went through the exit gate.”

“Bleeding cats.” Scree started to rise again, but Thorpe laid a hand on his arm.

“Just stay there. They can live without you.”

“You means they can die without me. I’m nots dying without a fight.”

“There isn’t a lot to fight here, Scree.”

“Always something to fight.” It sounded as if the dwarves in the other room agreed with that sentiment.

“Just give yourself a few minutes then. A few minutes won’t matter.”

Scree relented, though only because he wanted to ask a question. “So, whats happened back on Sherindel? Where was you going?” He leaned back against the wall. “And what was you doing down in that damn gully.”

The Captain sighed and sat down as well. “The whole troop was through the gate thing about half an hour after Kim led us there. We were only lightly armed, but we were able to help the elves to an extent. Trouble was, there were just too many of the aliens.”

“They called hurgon.”

“How do you know that?”

“There’s one around here somewhere. He ain’t too sure around all us people though.”

“You... Why didn’t anyone say?”

“Nothings to do with you, I suppose.” Scree shrugged painfully. “Cuto’s friendly enough if you can understand what the hell he’s sayings.”

“Friendly? But...” Thorpe seemed to think better of arguing. He shook his head as if clearing it. “Anyway, we held the area for a while, an hour or something, then we were overwhelmed and forced to run. We were already a couple of kilometers from the gate when support came through. With heavier weapons our men were holding the gate easy enough, but we were still being harried. That was... I don’t know... a few days ago now.

“We’d been laying low, but the dwarves went past us obviously needing help. So we helped...” He removed his red beret and slapped it against his knee... “and brought down more of the aliens. We thought the caves were the safest bet, even if they were occupied already... That’s where you came in.”

Scree nodded. “We just wanted some dwarves.”

“What for?”

“Apparently dwarves can fix just abouts anything if you gives them a few minutes to think abouts it. We had one of them, but we needed some more. And there’s some other people on Earth who have some ships that’ll probably need fixed.”

“Someone on Earth? Who?”

“Don’ know much about it. I ain’t been around here from the start. But apparently Kim found this ship in a hangar somewhere and there lots of others there as well.”

“Kim found this?”

Scree carefully pushed himself to his feet and Thorpe didn’t try to stop him. His shoulders hurt so much he had to grit his teeth, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. His right shoulder was bandaged heavily. The left, the one that had been fried, more lightly so. He examined the remains of his EVA suit. It had been damaged when he was injured then cut away completely later. He’d had it barely a day and he needed a new one. He wondered how many there were to spare.

Scree made his way around to the stairs, moving past sleeping patients. Thorpe followed.

Keeble and Tuki were the only people on the bridge. They both sat silently, staring out the front window. Neither even moved when Scree entered.

The colored mist was outside. It was red and blue— and a sickening purple somewhere between— that swirled ever so slowly. There was something else out there as well— the silvery sheen of a gateway hanging motionless in front of the ship.

“Why’s that there?”

Keeble’s head snapped around. “What?”

“What’s the gate doing?”

“Nothing.”

“I can sees that.”

Thorpe cleared his throat. “Keeble tried to open the gate while the ship was still moving but was too late, by about a minute. So now it’s just hanging there.” He checked the timekeeper on his wrist, though Scree doubted it worked. “It’s been there for four hours.”

“Where’s Kim?”

Scree watched Keeble looking around, as if only just realizing the woman wasn’t there. “Don’t know.”

So he asked in his mind if any of the trolls knew where she was. Those who answered didn’t know, so he got them to start looking.

“What we doings about this?”

Tuki shrugged. “There is nothing we can do.”

“Who says?”

The moai pointed at Keeble.

Scree shook his head. “Keeble go and take charge in the mess. Get the dwarves thinking.”

“It won’t do any good.”

“I don’t cares. Do it anyways.”

“But—”

“Keeble...”

“Who put you in charge? I’ve been on the ship longer than you.”

Scree didn’t even bother answering that. He just stared.

“All right. All right. We’ve been discussing it for hours, but I’ll go back down there again.”

“Good.”

When the dwarf had slumped from the room Thorpe gave a bark of laughter. “You do have a way of motivating people.”

“I don’t intend to sits around here and wait to die.” He looked around. “We needs to find Kim.”

“She said she needed to rest,” Tuki said.

“Right. Why don’t you goes and rest as wells? Nothing you cans do here.”

“But I...”

“Go somewheres else, Tuki. Goes and talk to your friends or somethings.”

“Very well.”

“Now what?” Thorpe looked around the bridge, as if someone else might need ordering around.

“Don’t knows.” Scree wanted to know where Kim was. She should’ve been the one shouting at people, getting them to do things. Or at least telling people nicely and getting someone else, like himself, to do the shouting. She wanted to rest... “Follows me.”

The Captain’s cabin on level one could be entered by two different doors. Scree tried the outer door but it was locked, so he made his way through the captain’s office to the second door. With Thorpe standing behind him in the office, lantern held aloft, most of the room was in shadow, but Scree saw movement on the bed and waved the human closer.

Kim rolled over, arm up to shade her eyes. “Go away.”

Scree smiled. “Goods. You still knows how to tell peoples what to do.”

“Shouting at people is easy.”

“So why don’t you gets out here and do it?”

“What’s the use? I got us all killed.” She rolled back over and hid her face in the shadows.

“We ain’t dead yet. We cans give up, or we can fight and I always fights. I thoughts you did too.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Obviously.”

Scree stood there looking at the curve of her hip, the thin strip of tanned flesh revealed at her waist. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. His usual means of motivation was to thump people, or to threaten them. He didn’t want to thump Kim, which surprised him. He’d never known a time when he was unwilling to thump a person. He grunted at the thought.

“Spending too long with Ping,” he mumbled.

“Pardon?”

He turned to look at Thorpe. “Nothings.”

So, he couldn’t thump her, and he doubted threatening would work seeing she was already expecting to die. He might have stood there till the day he died, which was not to be too far away, by all accounts, had not a voice in his head disturbed him.

<Scree, we got problems.> Flint sounded calm enough, as if his dinner wasn’t cooked exactly right.

<Whats?>

<Gorge, Gem, Cairn, Crunch, River and Talus ain’t happy.>

<What you means?>

<They says if they is gunna die they might as well have some fun before they do.>

<What sort of fun?> Scree didn’t care if they had fun amongst themselves. Though if that was what they had in mind it wasn’t likely anyone else would’ve heard about it. He grunted again. A month ago he probably would have joined them.

<They is talking about elves at the moments.>

<Wheres?>

<Theys in the dirt room.>

“Come ons, Thorpe. Lets go.”

“Where to now?”

Scree examined the weapon sheathed at the man’s waist. “How does that gun of yours work?”

“What?”

“How does it works?”

“Uhhh... Well, basically, very basically, when you pull the trigger it releases a hammer that hits on the bullet shell, which creates an explosion that propels the bullet forward. Why?”

“No electricity or nothings?”

“No. Why?”

“We might needs it.”

“What? Why?”

#

Scree made his way down to Level 3 where he collected a group of volunteers. The human soldiers all came, plus some male elves and a large group of dwarves. Apparently their discussions were not getting them anywhere and they needed a break.

From there they went down again, a rowdy mob clomping down the stairs.

Scree got them into some type of order as they headed for Level 5. Humans with the good weapons first. Dwarves second, and elves, a couple of them armed with bows, third. He considered putting the dwarves first, seeing there were too many of them anyway. Hopefully though, only the threat of Thorpe and his men would be needed.

As soon as he stepped out of the narrow passage and into the main section of the dirt room, Scree knew he’d arrived just in time. There were two groups of trolls there. Both had found themselves weapons; pipes, machetes, lumps of wood tied to the end of ropes; but there the similarities finished. The group led by Flint stood quietly together, watching the second group. The others were flailing about, thumping at the ground and walls, working themselves into a frenzy.

“Stinking cats.”

“What manner of place is this?” Suldon, a young male elf with silver hair and bow held negligently in his hand, shook his head in wonder. “It is a garden.”

“That’s what I thought,” Scree said to him. “But why would they wants a garden on a ship?”

“I know that if I were to spend long periods of time on this ship I would be much happier with a garden to wander in.”

“Buts would you be willing to waste all that water to keeps it going?”

A young dwarf with sandy hair spoke up. “Actually, a garden could help save water and air. You see the trees are needed to—”

“Yeah, wells we don’t have time for this right now.” Scree went to join Flint, Sandy and Gulch. Not ten meters away the six others whacked at the ship.

“How longs they been going?”

“Couple minutes.”

That wasn’t too bad, though if they kept going for much longer... Scree picked the most likely leader of the group. “Yo, Gorge, what youse doing?”

Gorge struck the wall a couple of more times before turning to look. “What it look like?”

“It looks like youse looking for troubles.”

The older troll showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. “Won’t be no trouble.”

“Might be. Why don’t youse have your fun rights here?”

The others stopped their thumping to join Gorge.

“More fun to be had elsewhere.”

“No, there ain’t. No fun at all outside this room right now. The boss said so.”

“Well,” Crunch said, “maybe the boss don’t know where t’ look. I intend t’ show her. Maybe I show her personally— she got us in this mess after all.”

“She did. And she’ll get us outs, as well.”

Crunch looked at Cairn and they both laughed. “You know where she is? Or she still playing at hide and seek?”

“She thinking. And that’s the problem with you lot. You don’t think.”

“We thinking,” Gem said with a smile. “Thinking about how we gunna have some fun.”

“Hows about after that? Whats you gunna do then?”

“We gunna die, like everyone else.”

“We got lots of smarts peoples on this ship. We ain’t dead yet. Even Flint knows that. He probably reckons we gunna die, but—”

“We just trolls doing what’s best for trolls, Scree. Same as ever.”

“What’s best for trolls for the next five minutes, maybe. But what about after that? What’s best for you trolls tomorrow? And the day after that?”

“Ain’t gunna be a tomorrow.”

Flint shook his head. “How you know that? As long as there’s a chance I’m see if it works.

“Flint’s thinking abouts the future, not just about now.”

“You two startin’ to sound like humans.”

Scree laughed. “Maybe we is. And that ain’t a bad thing, ‘cause humans ain’t stupid.”

“You gunna live in a town soon.”

“I already is. This ship. I worked out what a town is recently. It’s a place to keep useful peoples you might need later. And a home is a place to keeps useful things. That ain’t so stupid, when you thinks about it.” He laughed again, but continued to stare coldly at the other trolls. “But youse ain’t thinking, is you. Youse all just normal trolls.” He paused. “Actually, you ain’t even normal trolls. Normal trolls don’t give up. They fights to the end, no matter what. You have this fun, and you giving ups.”

“You reckon we can get out?” Talus no longer held his piece of pipe like he wanted to use it. He wasn’t looking at Scree though. He was looking at Sandy, standing by Flint’s side.

The young trollop scratched her head, as if she was really giving the matter some thought. The beads plaited into her hair clattered. Eventually she shrugged. “Won’t find out if we kills everyone who might help. Or even if we just scares ‘em.”

Talus nodded slowly. “But scaring and killing people is fun.”

Sandy ducked her head and scratched at ground with her foot. “Well, yeah, but so’s havin’ friends.”

Scree spoke to Flint in his head. <What’s all that abouts?>

<Couple of the younger trollops has been talking with Ping and Ari and other dwarf women. Seems they like it.>

Scree smiled and shook his head slightly. <Who’d have thunk.> He’d grown up with older trolls telling him that all other people just naturally wanted to see trolls dead. He hadn’t been able to argue, because just about everyone he saw tried to kill him or wanted someone else to do it. And he’d wanted to kill them back. Respect was a funny thing.

He spoke out loud. “Why don’t you come over here, Talus. We all dies soon enough, no need to hurry things along.”

Gorge grunted. “What make ya think you gunna kill us, Scree? There’s only...” His brow furrowed. “There’s more of us. The rest of them is looking for the boss.”

Scree looked over his shoulder. “I thought you could count a bit, Gorge. There’s lots of us.”

Gorge laughed. “But they’s just humans and dwarves and... elves.” He said the last with a particularly vicious sneer.

“They’s enough. You know what a bow is, right? You gunna out run one of them?” He looked over is shoulder again. “You dwarves spread out a bit. The rest of you— if they attacks, make sure you kill them. They pissed off now, if we wounds them they just get even more pissed off.” He had a sneer of his own for Gorge.

The dwarves did as they were told. They weren’t big, but they were solid and looked fierce in their own way. The elves didn’t look fierce. They looked like elves always did, as far as Scree could tell.

“You comings over here or what Talus?”

The young troll had been edging away from the others and was already a couple of meters to the side. He nodded his head and dashed across to stand between Flint and Sandy.

Scree smiled at Gorge. “Now there’s even less of youse.”

Gorge shrugged. “Won’t make any difference.”

“No, it won’ts. Now puts down the stuff.”

“I’ll put this down after I’ve had some funs.”

“What about youse lot? If I beats him is I in charge again?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybes? How abouts it then, Gorge?” He wouldn’t be able to resist. “You ands me.”

“Yeah. You and me.”

Scree smiled and loosened his shoulders. It hurt. He winced at the pain.

“I’m keeping this club.”

“You saw me break Bluff’s neck— if you thinks the club’ll help then you can keeps it.”

Captain Thorpe touched his arm. “Is this a good idea? You shouldn’t be risking yourself.”

“No risk. Gorge is big and old and slow.” He made sure the other troll could hear. Gorge’s anger was building at the delay, and Scree’s advantage grew with every moment.

“And you were half dead a few hours ago,” Thorpe replied.

“Don’t start worrying until I’m... three quarters dead. Watch the rest of thems though.”

“Right.” He didn’t look happy.

Finally, Gorge’d had enough and attacked. He was slow for a troll, but by most other standards that was pretty quick.

Scree brushed aside the bigger man’s attack and struck at the back of his elbow. And Gorge flicked his club, a lazy attack that managed to save his own elbow.

Scree grunted when his injured shoulder was struck but let momentum swing him around. He struck Gorge’s ribcage with his elbow, kept spinning and was behind him. He danced in and hit him once, twice in the kidneys. Gorge grunted and squirmed away. Scree let him go. He took the opportunity to flex his shoulders. They hurt like a stomped cat but he tried not to show it. There was blood on one of the bandages.

“The human taught me that fighting, you know.” Scree smiled. He could see he was about one insult away from getting Gorge to do something really stupid. Normally when trolls fought they weren’t thinking enough to notice stuff like that. “I should go gets the boss and let her thump you.” One more. “But nah, you don’t send the boss to clean rats from the sewer.”

Gorge charged forward, swinging his club in a fierce backhand swipe. Scree ducked easily. From low down he gave a left-hand uppercut to the other troll’s groin. Gorge slumped forward slightly, momentarily. Surging up to his full height, Scree hit him under the chin. Gorge’s head snapped back. Bones broke. The troll stayed on his feet for a moment, dead, before toppling backwards.

Hearing a rush of feet behind him, Scree turned quickly. But all he saw was the four remaining mutineers running away, dashing for the safety of the shadows.

“What are youse doing,” he said over his shoulder. “Shoots them.”

Half a dozen arrows whistled over his head.

Cairn took two in the back. Another took River in the leg, but she hobbled on. Crunch turned at the last moment and slapped one away from his chest and winced as another grazed his hip. Gem stumbled and fell. She twitched and squirmed for a moment before dying.

A moment later River and Crunch disappeared into the tunnel that led to the other side of the garden.

“Pissing cats.” Scree tried to remember the layout of the room. Without power there was no way out on the other side of this level. Scree looked up, though, to the half level above. “Flint— take Talus, three elves and a couple of humans up to the next level. There’s two doors— you’s got to stop them from getting out the far one into the workshop.”

“Right.” He’d organized his pack and was gone in seconds, scrambling up the cliff to the floor above.

“What about the rest of us,” Thorpe asked.

Scree was glad the man hadn’t objected to the commandeering of his men. “There’s another doors straight up there, and the steps behind us. We’s going to spread out a couple of lamps down here, then go straight up there. We can watch the door and the stairs from there.”

“Right.”

“Would be all over if you’d used your weapons.”

“We tried. They didn’t work.”

“What? Why not?”

Thorpe shrugged. “The hammer’s fell but... Nothing.”

Scree didn’t know exactly what that meant.

“When we finish here we’ll have to see what we can find out.”

Scree shrugged as well. “Let’s go then.”

The whole group started to climb, but Scree stopped the first dwarf in line. “Not you dwarves. Youse got to go back up stairs and help work out how to gets us out of here.”

“We want to help here.”

“We can handle this, but we needs everyone we can spare thinking of how to gets us out of here.”

“Right then. Let’s go lads.” The dwarf led the way towards the stairs.

Scree was halfway up the cliff when he had a sudden thought. There’s one person we haven’t thought to asks.

He started to climb back down. “Thorpe, you’s in charge up there. Make sure you kills them trolls this time.”

“Where are you going?”

“Going to help with the thinking.” He laughed at the absurdity of that and headed quickly towards the stairs.

36: Cliffs of Knowledge

Meledrin lost her composure for a moment when Scree opened the door and burst into her room. She schooled her face to calmness as she waved her hands in the ceremony of Lesser Changing.

“Have you no manners, Scree?” Though he had proven on more than one occasion in just a short period of time that he did not. “It is customary to knock before entering someone else’s quarters.”

The big man shrugged. “But then theys’ll know you’s there.”

“That is the point. You have no need to sneak up on people who are your companions. I could have been...” she was going to say ‘unclothed’, but blushed at merely the thought. “I could have been talking privately with someone.”

“This is more important.”

“It may well be, but you can inform me of that when I inquire as to who is without.”

“What?” He shook his head. “Looks, there is one person on this ships who knows more about the gates than anyone, and we ain’t asked him how to get out of here.”

“Keeble is—”

“Not Keeble. The monster. Cuto.”

Meledrin was about to instruct Scree on the bad manners of interruption but decided that the troll’s idea earned him some leniency, this time. Scree was a strange man, even for a man. He did not care what others thought of him, and he did not think he was very smart, so he was not afraid to think about things in ways that nobody else would. He was quite a bit smarter than he gave himself credit for.

“You are correct,” Meledrin said eventually. “I shall go and speak with him.”

“Should we tells Kim?”

“Yes. Are we aware of her location?”

“She was in the Captain’s cabin a while ago, buts now?” Scree shrugged again.

“Let us try there in the first instance.” Meledrin led the way to the stairs and to the ship’s Administration level. Kim was lying on the bed in the Captain’s cabin staring at the ceiling.

Though the door was open and Kim had seen her approaching, Meledrin knocked anyway, with a pointed glance towards Scree. He seemed to ignore her, of course, though he would have noticed.

“Go away,” Kim said. “Go bug someone else.”

“It is our intention to ‘bug’ someone else,” Meledrin informed her, “but we require your assistance.”

“Let me assure you, Mel, both you and Scree can bug people plenty well enough on your own.”

Meledrin thought to ask that her full name be used, but decided it was probably much too late. “Perhaps we can, Kim, but we need your assistance in other areas.”

“What areas are those?”

“Your ability to make leaps of logic.” Meledrin said. Scree was good at that, but Kim was able to make the leaps from higher cliffs of knowledge. “We... Scree... thought that we should ask Cuto about any means of escaping from this universe.

Kim grunted in disgust. “He isn’t already helping?”

“Cuto is not—”

“I know. He isn’t a male. Whatever. Why hasn’t Cuto been helping?”

“I believe Cuto is uncomfortable in the presence of the hakan strangers. Will you assist?”

“No. You can still manage on your own.”

In the past, Kim’s stubbornness had been an asset— she would not give up until she received the desired result— but in this instance it was working against them. Meledrin sighed and did not know what else to say. Apparently Scree was of the opinion that he did.

“You’s in charge, Kim.”

“So, I’m ordering you to do it on your own then.”

“So you wants us running up here annoying you every few minutes with questions?”

“Like what? He can either get us out or not. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Plenty you can do.”

Kim didn’t say anything. She rolled over and stared at the wall.

“Well, if you’s just going to lie there and sulk then I’m taking command.”

“Good.” She didn’t look at them. “You’re welcome to it.”

“Right, then I’m ordering you to comes with us.”

“Ha. You really think that’ll work?”

It was obvious to Meledrin that the strategy would be unsuccessful.

“Well, thinks of it this way. You can walk down there as our boss. You can walk down there cause I ordered you to. Or you can be carried down there by half a dozen trolls.” Scree smiled. “Thems the only choices you got, Kim.”

Meledrin almost said that she would not allow Kim to be carried anywhere by the trolls, but managed to hold her tongue.

Kim sat up. “You wouldn’t.” Kim would know Scree was serious and that the other trolls would probably do as he said, but there was no possibility she would allow such a thing to happen.

Scree just smiled.

“Jesus. Bloody troll.” Kim climbed to her feet and pushed them out the door before her. “Come on then, let’s get this over with so I can go back to sleeping.”

“Yes, boss.”

Kim sighed. “Get me another elf, Scree. One that’d like to stay on the ship when the others leave.”

One moment she was assuming they would not successfully escape from the universe, the next she was formulating plans for when they did.

Meledrin shook her head. “I am able to perform any translation duties you require, Kim,” she said, incensed that the woman would think otherwise. “Nobody else knows the hurgon language.”

“I know they don’t, and what if something happens to you? What if you need to sleep when somebody else wants to talk? We need other language specialists around here, Mel.”

“Very well.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

It seemed Kim was once more throwing herself fully into her role as Captain. The woman was as bad as Scree. Meledrin waved a Lesser Changing to calm herself. “Well, Scree, are you going?”

“Chasm getting someone.” He smiled and tapped his temple. “Radio in head’s not a machine. Mutineers are dead, bys the way. Two elves and a human was injured.”

“Mutineers?” Kim asked, saving Meledrin the bother. “What mutineers?”

“Six trolls, but theys taken care of now. Should we throw them outside, do you think?”

“I don’t know. Christ. Mutineers?”

Scree shrugged. “Cuto’s in his cabin.”

A woman was standing by the alien’s cabin door when they arrived. Meledrin shook her head and turned to her companions. “Kim, Penisari cannot do this. She has no authority.”

“No authority to what? We aren’t on Sherindel any more, Toto, all your old rules count for nothing now.”

Toto? ‘Mel’ was bad enough, but to start calling her something else entirely. Meledrin took a grip on her anger with another Lesser Changing and returned to matters at hand. “But she was not given any responsibilities for a reason. She neglected duties and—”

“From what I can tell, Mel, it’s men who do just about all the work for you anyway. Did she forget to bless her tree in the morning or something?”

Meledrin scowled. Kim was being facetious, she knew, but was not far from the truth. “Let us go.”

They knocked on the door and entered to find Cuto looking at the pieces of a small machine spread about on a bed. The alien spoke rapidly and Meledrin had trouble following.

After a moment of sorting words she translated. “Cuto says the machine is only a book reader and...”

Kim waved the translation away. “Cuto can pull stuff apart if he likes, as long as it doesn’t affect the working of the ship. He isn’t a prisoner.”

Meledrin translated and the alien gave a quick nod, which was a hakan gesture.

“We wish to talk with Cuto about important matters,” Meledrin said then.

The alien turned and planted each foot on the deck in turn with two solid thumps. It seemed to Meledrin that Scree would not be able to shift the alien if it did not wish to be shifted.

Meledrin took one of the two chairs, while Kim took the other. Penisari glanced at Scree but seemed to decide, correctly in this instance, that the troll would rather stand. So she carefully shifted parts of the dismantled machine and sat on the bed. She was only a couple of years Meledrin’s junior, but seemed much younger. She clasped her hands before her and examined the floor.

Kim cleared her throat. “Penisari... Peni, you just listen and try to learn the language. Mel, see what you can find out.”

Meledrin explained their current predicament to the alien. She wanted to dispense with the spoken words but persevered.

“Is there any way to escape?” Cuto asked.

“We were hoping you could help,” Meledrin said. “Do the kil’ini use this universe to travel between the stars? How is it done?”

“The kil’ini can but do not. And Cuto does not know how it is done,” the alien said. “Nobody does.”

“What is meant?”

“How does Meledrin breathe?”

“Meledrin does not know,” Meledrin said, “it is just done.”

“Then how could Meledrin expect the kil’ini to know. Kil’ini do it and that is all there is to know.”

Meledrin translated for Kim. She could see Penisari working through the words, trying to make the links, trying to weed the adjectives from amongst the nouns, trying to sift the adverbs form the verbs. Meledrin did not envy her the difficult task, but was not about to assist— not even to point out the lack of pronouns.

Kim sighed and shook her head. It took Meledrin a moment to realize that the sigh was directed at her.

“I don’t want to know the actual mechanics of it, Mel. I just want to know how they make it happen.”

“I do not understand the difference.”

“We don’t know how the Ohoga Engines work, but we know how to make them work. Do the kil’ini tear the space-time continuum with their tentacles? Do they fart? Do they sing a song to make a gate like Keeble reckons this ship does? And seeing they aren’t mechanical, would they be able to survive and maneuver and... whatever... in this universe?”

“I shall ask.”

“Good idea.” Kim was shaking her head.

Meledrin asked Cuto and listened carefully to the response.

#

Meledrin examined the bridge from her seat and wondered how Kim had decided who should be present. There were obvious choices, such as the dwarves, but some of the trolls did not even appear to be listening to the conversation.

Ping cleared her throat. “So,” she said, looking around nervously. “If we can get a message out of this universe and into our own universe, and if one of the kil’ini happens to hear it, and it wants to help... then it will be able to survive long enough, and maneuver long enough, to save us?”

Meledrin watched as Kim looked at Cuto for a moment and nodded.

“Well, that sounds easy then.” Ping slumped back in her chair.

Cuto did not appear concerned one way or the other though it was still hard for Meledrin to gage any but the most ostentatious body language from the alien. Many of those in the room, the hakans, sitting in the seats surrounding the viewing pit did not appear concerned either. Most sat and stared out at the swirling mist of the universe— and the gate still hanging just out of reach— as if the answer to their problems might be out there. They were resigned to their fate. The panic had come earlier.

Drago, long beard in plaits, hands laced across his stomach, cleared his throat as if about to offer his thoughts. He shifted in his seat and subsided into silence.

“How long do we have?” Suldon asked. Why the saveigni was present was beyond Meledrin. He could not even control the fidgeting of his hands.

Nobody replied.

“Keeble?” Kim asked eventually.

The dwarf shrugged. “Maybe two days.”

“If there were plants in the garden...” Suldon said.

It had all been stated previously. If there were plants in the garden they could live for much longer, but unless someone knew of some way to grow 50 thousand year old seeds into plants in a few hours it was wasted breath. And they did not have enough breaths to waste.

Ping sighed. “If we could get into the other universe, and could get a message to someone, and they were willing to help... would they be able to get here quick enough anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where are we? In the real universe— in our universe— where are we? Are we within two days of rescue?”

Meledrin swallowed noisily and hoped nobody would notice. According to Kim the universe was such a large place. Meledrin could not help but think that Ping had struck at the heart of the problem. She turned to look at Tuki and saw that the moai was already working on the problem and struggling. He turned and called to Okalani. She hurried to his side. They consulted, apparently juggling the huge numbers in their heads.

“Traveling at approximately 2.3 miles per second when we passed through the gate we would have traveled slightly less than half a light year from Sherindel.”

Kim laughed bitterly. “Does anyone know how fast radio waves travel? It’ll probably take a few decades, or more, for our signal to go half a light year.”

Meledrin glared when Penisari spoke to Cuto. She was about to say something to remind Penisari of her place, but paused to listen to the alien’s reply.

A moment later, Penisari translated for everyone else. “Cuto states that it would be a matter of a few hours for a kil’ini to arrive here, and that, had we the right equipment, we could get a message to them in almost no time at all.” She glanced towards Meledrin as if checking the accuracy of her translation.

Meledrin nodded in reply.

Keeble was the first, barely, to ask the question. “What equipment? Can we make it here?”

Another conversation between Penisari and Cuto. Meledrin was too stunned, and gripping too tightly to hope, to object.

“Cuto states that the kil’ini know of a method to send short messages across the galaxy almost instantaneously. They have shown the hurgon how to do much the same with machines, though the power involved normally makes the exercise futile when they can simply ask the kil’ini to send the message for them.”

“Ask if it will show us how to make one of the machines?”

“Cuto can but is not sure if it will do any good.”

“But you said—”

“We do not just need Cuto to help us, we need someone to come and rescue us.”

Suldon interrupted, speaking directly to Cuto. Meledrin gasped but again, she paused to listen, then started to translate as the conversation continued. “‘It is obvious that there is much that hakans could learn from hurgon,’ Suldon says, ‘and our people have never been ones to waste such opportunities. Trade of both knowledge and goods would be much more beneficial than war.’“

It was quickly obvious to Meledrin that Suldon had found the one thing for which the hurgon might be able to take a risk. Kim saw it as well, for she sat up straighter and seemed ready to jump down from her seat to shake the alien.

“Cuto suggests that the T’Loop might be willing to negotiate for exclusive contracts with hakans,” Suldon said.

Though Meledrin had understood the alien she still felt her heart flutter with hope when Suldon translated.

37: Simple Machines

Ping sighed with relief and slumped back in her chair. Half the people in the room did likewise.

Kim scratched at her head and sucked on her teeth. “Ummm... Okay.” She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I can’t guarantee something like exclusive contracts— I may not be involved in the talks— but if the T’Loop help us they’ll obviously be looked upon favorably. I guarantee to try, but I can’t offer any more.”

Suldon and Cuto spoke again and everyone else hung on every word, though there were only a couple who could actually understand. The two of them seemed to be haggling, and enjoying it immensely.

On at least a dozen occasions, the young elf seemed to stumble over words. He looked to Meledrin and she would, seemingly reluctantly, offer assistance. She didn’t try to take over though, which Ping thought was a bit unusual. And she didn’t know if it was a good thing of a bad thing.

“Cuto says that without a firm agreement—” Meledrin said at one stage, but apparently nothing else was important enough to be passed on.

“Warder,” Suldon said eventually. “I... We...” With a glance to Meledrin, “have told Cuto that we can offer the T’Loop family no agreements on tariffs or contracts— or anything else— but that we may be able to enter into a partnership— his family with... our... company.” He looked around. “I hope that meets with your approval. Cuto is interested in the idea but the entire situation is unusual. There are no ‘Daughters’ present but he trusts you and will take your word.”

Ping wondered if it would make any difference. Would he know enough details to explain how the kil’ini ‘radio’ worked. And if Keeble understood how it worked, would he have the parts to make one? And would they have enough power? And...

“Suldon, thank Cuto for his trust and... I don’t know, tell him we’re pleased to be working with his family and look forward to making a lot of money. Or something. You seem to have worked everything else out, so make up something now as well.”

“Kim...” Meledrin said.

“Shut up, Mel. Suldon got us this far. I certainly trust him enough to say something as simple as that.”

Ping smiled slightly at Meledrin’s shocked expression, but Kim was continuing.

“Keeble, talk to Cuto and see what you can come up with.”

Keeble nodded and, calling the names of several dwarves, strode towards the door. “Come on Suldon, let’s go to the workshop.”

Suldon and the alien followed the group of dwarves and Ping followed them. A moment later Ari was by her side. They collected lanterns and made their way towards Level 4.

#

“We might be able to make it,” Ping said, “but what about power?” She and Ari stood on the outside of the group, but they hadn’t been chased away while the men tinkered with the beginnings of the machine. The problem of power was a question they’d all been avoiding.

“Ummm...” Ari said. Nobody turned to look at her. She continued in “All of those vehicles in the hangar have batteries, don’t they?”

Two of the vehicles in question were partly dismantled at the far end of the workshop. Parts had been stripped from them to use in the radio— the ansible.

“Not nearly enough power,” Keeble said.

But Ping wasn’t sure how much power the machine would use, and wasn’t sure anyone else did either. They didn’t need to speak across the galaxy. And perhaps the hurgon couldn’t store very much power, so what was a little bit on the ship would be a lot to them. Ping said all of this and received no reply.

“We still have to get into the other universe,” Makar said.

Apparently Ari had been giving that some thought as well. “The door of the hangar faces close enough to forward,” she said, “so if we push one of the little ships out...”

“So, we throw a Lander hard enough to reach the gate...” Keeble nodded slowly. “Right, that’s for you two to work out.”

Ping gaped. Several of the male dwarves did the same. One of them went to say something, but Keeble turned to look at him.

“Think of it this way if you want, Makar— they can stay here and annoy us as we try to use bits of string and old washers to make the most advance machine ever made by dwarves, or they can go off and do something that’s relatively easy.”

The other dwarf grunted. Ari was standing and smiling stupidly. Ping grabbed her hand and led her out into the hangar before someone changed Keeble’s mind.

Like all dwarves Ari started logically and out loud. “We have no power, so that leaves simple machines or brute force,” she said.

“Or both,” Ping offered.

“Right.”

“So... wheels.”

Ari nodded. “And a ramp.”

“Right. We put some wheels onto one of the vehicles then set it at the top of a ramp and get the trolls to push.”

Ari smiled. “Easy.”

“Have we got anything to make a ramp out of?”

“Umm...”

“Let’s get some help.”

Ping didn’t know why they bothered asking any of the male dwarves. They all said they’d never work with women, and stayed firmly put in their chairs. They’d do their bit by sitting in the semi-darkness trying to conserve oxygen. Many dwives were reluctant to go as well— worried about the reaction of the men and worried about taking on any responsibility— but half an hour later they had some volunteers and were working on the problem.

“I found some spare wheels in the store room.” Ari appeared carrying two of the items in question. They were hardly fifty centimeters in diameter and came with hard rubber tires. “There’s more in there.”

“How many do we need?” Ping looked at one of the vehicles, but she didn’t know how to begin working out how strong the wheels were or how heavy the vehicles were.

“Another two should do it,” Ari said, dumping the ones she already had onto the floor. “They’re very robust.”

“How do we attach them?”

“We weld.”

“What?”

“Weld. Heat metal until it liquefies and use it as a glue. There’s a thing in there that looks like it’s made for the job.”

“Oh.”

“And the ramp?”

One of the other dwives raised her hand nervously.

“Yes, Dido?”

“If we make the ramp out of two long metal rails, like the railing off the stairs, we can remove the tires from the wheels and make them like train wheels.”

Ping didn’t know what a train was, in any language, but the others were all smiling and nodding. “That sounds great.” She smiled at Ari and the dwife smiled back. “Can any of you weld?”

But of course they couldn’t— it wasn’t allowed. Men would have to be asked again.

“Let’s worry about that when the time comes,” Ping said. “Let’s get everything ready first, just to be sure we have what we need.”

“So, what do we need?” Kesi was shorter than everyone else, but broad and solid. It looked like she hadn’t had an easy day in her life, despite the fact that dwives hardly ever left the bunkers where they lived and were generally forbidden to do anything other than cook.

“We need rails off the stairs,” Ping said.

“And some way to raise one end of the ramp,” Ari added.

One of the dwives raised her hand.

“Yes, Nina.”

“I will go and look at the rails, if you like,” she said quietly, as if fearing her offer would be rejected and she would have to go back upstairs.

Ping smiled. “Good. Tess and I will help while Aria and the others see to the other bit.”

Ping led the way to the airlock. First they’d get some tools, then they’d see what they could see.

“Is it true you are in charge of looking after the clock?” Tess asked, when they had collected a box of tools from the workshop and retreated beyond the hearing of the dwarves. The young dwife pulled her plaited hair over her shoulder and was studying the leather thong that held the ends together.

Ping wasn’t sure about that. Nobody had said. “I don’t think so. I helped Keeble but... I was only an apprentice clockmaker in Shadon.”

“You were an apprentice?” Tess made if sound as if an apprentice clockmaker was next in line to a king. “My younger brother was an apprentice boilermaker in Tab cavern...” She paused for a moment and studied her plait even harder. “I remember the day Jobber found out— he said it was the best day of his life. My father threw a party for him and I was allowed out of the maiden bunker for the whole day.”

Ping wondered if it was the best day of Tess’ life as well. “Maybe you could be an apprentice clockmaker on the ship,” Ping said, before she had even wondered whether it would be allowed. The look on the dwife’s face made it impossible for her to take it back.

“But what will Keeble say? What will the other dwarves say?”

Ping didn’t know any of that. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It is up to Kim.”

Tess obviously didn’t care. Perhaps the offer was enough.

Ping turned to Nina and saw that she was intensely studying a spanner in the top of the toolbox. “Maybe you could be one as well, Nina. If I am in charge then I don’t think any dwarves would work with me. We’ll have to check with Kim.”

“Of course.”

The offer was enough for her as well.

The two dwives might have smiled all day, but they’d reached the stairs and needed to get to work.

“Do you think these rails will be strong enough?” Ping asked, trying to give one a shake. It was ten centimeters wide and five deep but seemed solid. It didn’t budge under Ping’s rough treatment.

“I think so,” Tess said. “There’s only one way to find out.” She threw her plait back over her shoulder and bent down to see how the rail was held onto the brace. “Spanner,” she said, holding out her hand.

“What size?” asked Nina.

“I’m not sure, really,” Tess admitted. “It’s about two centimeters, but what is that in the ship’s measurements?”

Ping laughed and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what they call it, as long as it’s the right size. Give her a two-centimeter spanner, Nina. Find another for me.”

“What are you doing?”

Ping almost fell off the step. She turned and saw a dwarf standing in the doorway. She cleared her throat. “We’re removing the rail.”

“Why?”

“Who are you?” She didn’t want to make trouble, but wasn’t going to let a dwarf spoil her good mood— she mightn’t have that many left. The two dwives were staring resolutely at their shoes.

“I’m Topper. Keeble sent me to check up on you.”

Topper was only young and had his cheeks shaven, leaving a long brown beard on just his chin.

“What did you do to get punished?”

He didn’t answer right away, as if trying to decide if he was being teased. “Nothing. I’m a Singer, so I have experience leading Work Gangs, and I’m young enough that the others think I can be bossed around.”

Ping smiled. “You showed them, didn’t you?”

He clenched his jaw tightly, biting back on some words. “Why are you removing the rail?” he asked eventually.

“We’re going to make a ramp.”

“A ramp?” He nodded slowly. “I’ll tell Keeble what you’re doing.”

“Topper?”

“What?”

“Can you weld?”

“Of course I can weld.”

“Well, none of us women know how. Would you... do it for us?” Ping had been going to ask if he would teach them how it was done, but he probably wouldn’t have agreed to that.

He hesitated again, finger tapping against the doorjamb. “There’s some welding equipment in the workshop. I’ll get it, though it probably won’t work without power.” It was more than most dwarves would have done.

“Then how will we do it?”

“The old fashioned way, I suppose.”

“Thank you.”

38: Lightning

Kim was lying on the bed, unable to sleep. How could she sleep? She felt empty inside.

She had spent half her life shouting at authority figures, telling them when they were wrong, what they should have done, and how they should be out of a job. School teachers, university lecturers, army officers. But she had a feeling none of them had ever stuffed up as much as she had.

She knew nothing about anything but thought she could save the universe by commandeering a space ship and gallivanting around the place without so much as reading the instruction manual. And all she’d done was get a whole heap of people killed.

She wondered if it was too late to say sorry. To the people stuck in the ship with her, but also all those she’d railed against in the past. Perhaps Major Williams should be at the top of the list.

Kim recognized Scree’s footsteps out in the Captain’s office and quickly sat up, trying to straighten her badly crumpled clothes and tangled hair. The troll knocked, though the door was open and he must have heard her preparing herself.

“You not sulking again, is you?” He looked at her warily.

“No. Just resting. I haven’t slept in... It seems like days.” It felt like days since the grand plan had been put into motion, though it was barely twenty hours.

“Well, no time to rest now. Ping and Keeble thinks they’d just about ready.”

“They are?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“What? You wants them to take their time?”

Of course she didn’t. She wanted to be out of this cold, sickening place as quickly as possible, but people had to risk their lives to try to get the message across and Kim could guess who each of those people were going to be. Her own name wasn’t on the list. She examined Scree’s face— bald head, strong jaw, sharp blue eyes and boyish grin. He was about to throw himself out into the universe in a metal box and all he could do was smile about it. He really didn’t care about anyone else’s thoughts on the matter. Not that it really mattered— if the plan didn’t work everyone would be dead soon enough. And the odds of the plan succeeding were very slim. They couldn’t test the ‘ansible’, they couldn’t know if they had enough power, they couldn’t know if the aliens would hear, and couldn’t know if they’d come, or if they’d help. There were so many things that could happen.

Kim didn’t want anyone to go out into the swirling mist in a stupid little Lander. If they didn’t reach the gate then they’d be stuck out there, in full view, until the air ran out. And nobody would be able to do a thing.

But that was it, she supposed. All those leaders she complained about in the past had to live with the knowledge of killing people, or sending them out to die. Perhaps everything they ever did was in reaction to that. Or to the possibility. Kim sighed.

Scree would be going. Scree, Keeble, Cuto and Suldon, probably. Kim sighed. Scree was the one who’d held everything together.

“You’ll be going?”

“Of course.” He smiled some more. “And you’ll be staying.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course. Who else can sit around here and keep the peace while we wait to die?” She could think of a few people who could do that. Captain Thorpe was the obvious choice. The Troop leaders. They’d have as much to do with the last few hours on the ship as she did. “Be careful, Scree.”

Scree laughed at that. “Hows am I supposed to do that? Sit carefully in the seat while we waits to go through the gate? Sit carefully in the seat while we waits to see if the thing works? Sit carefully while we waits for them aliens to come get us?”

“Then why are you going? You should stay here. You just said that you’d be all but useless there. Keeble can work the ansible. Cuto can talk to his family. Suldon can make sure he says what he’s supposed to say...” She didn’t want Keeble or Suldon to go either— she liked them. She even liked Cuto.

“I won’t be useless. I’ll drives. I’ll keeps an eye on Cuto. I’ll be in charge, separate to the other stuffs going on and trying to thinks of what you’d do. You wants Keeble making the decisions if some woman alien comes over the radio to talk to him?”

“There are no ‘female’ hurgon.”

He gave her a look.

“No, I don’t want Keeble in charge.”

“Rights. Then I gots to go.”

“Either you or me.”

“Yep, and you ain’t going.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I said.”

“What about Captain Thorpe then?” Kim said.

“He’s just visiting. You goings to put a refugee in charge? A human, soldier refugee?”

“No.”

“Rights. Then I gots to go.”

“Of course you do.” She didn’t know why she’d tried to talk him out of it. He was the best person for the job. “So they’re almost ready?”

“So Keeble says.”

“We’d better go and have a look then.”

“Right.”

Kim rose to her feet, quickly pulling on her shoes as she headed for the door. Scree was at the outer door of the office when she exited the sleeping quarters. “Scree.”

He turned to look, leaning against the doorjamb. “Yeah.”

“Be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Kim laughed. In his own way he probably was, but it was a kind of edge of your seat carefulness seen in action-buddy movies— careful while making sure the action kept coming. If the Lander got stuck in this universe, he was sure to find a way to live. Or he’d look good dying.

Kim cleared her throat and followed the troll to the stairs and down towards the hangar.

When they arrived, Kim watched as Scree talked with Flint. No doubt he was asking the other troll to keep an eye on her. Flint tugged on his moustache and looked in her direction. She shook her head and sighed.

Flint should’ve been made leader of one of the Troops, he was smarter than most of the other trolls and had taken readily to the idea of life on the ship— every time Kim saw him he was speaking with someone new. And she’d overheard him talking to some of the trolls as well, nudging them ever more towards accepting the Hakahei as their new way of life. Scree had once said that trolls normally went through life doing what was best for themselves. Perhaps some of them were finally learning that there was more to life than immediate, physical wellbeing.

“We’re ready, I think.”

Kim jumped and turned to look a Keeble. She followed his gaze to the Lander and the ramp that would help it on its way. A large group of people was gathered around the construction.

Male dwarves were examining the work done by the women. One was hitting at a weld with a small hammer. Another was pulling at one of the two rails that held the Lander as if hoping it would collapse.

“You sure?”

“No. How about a test run?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. You did roll the Lander up onto the ramp though, right?”

“Of course.”

“And it was smooth and... everything.”

“No, it was horrible, but you know us dwarves— near enough is good enough.”

“So, Ping and the dwives did a good job then?” Kim didn’t realize the trap she’d set until it had already been sprung.

Keeble grunted. “Topper did most of the welding. But yes, the dwives did a good job. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. And doesn’t mean that three men and a small dog couldn’t have done better.”

“Give them time, Keeble.” Kim smiled. “Soon they’ll be as good as the men. And seeing Ping is in charge of the clock it’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

“She can’t be in charge.”

Kim sighed and shook her head. “She knows clocks better than you, Keeble.”

“She was only an apprentice clock-maker.”

“Look, we’ll talk about it when you get back.”

Keeble didn’t say anything, as if mulling over the horrible thought. Or perhaps he knew it was unlikely either way. If they survived this whole mess then he probably knew that Ping had the job no matter how much talking he did.

“And what about the ansible?” Kim asked. “Will it work?”

“I don’t know. A lot of the words didn’t translate. In a lot of cases we knew what Cuto was saying but still had no hope of accurately duplicating what he was describing. So we just had to invent something that might do the same thing. It’s very rough, but as close as we’re ever going to get in here.” He looked uncomfortable, as if he’d repeated his comment from earlier— close enough is good enough— without the sarcasm.

“How embarrassing for you all.”

“If it doesn’t work then nobody will know. If it does, wonderful. Power could still be one of the main problems.”

“How does it work?”

“Sort of the same principle as their weapons.”

“Huh?”

“The weapons attached to their armor— I’m sure that CIA officer explained to you— they align a line of particles in the air and fire electricity along it, basically.”

“Basically?”

“I could explain it—”

“Don’t bother.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, what the ansible does is align quarks—”

“Quarks?”

“Ummm... yes. They’re the smallest piece of matter possible.... I don’t understand completely. Neither does Cuto. Something about stamping the message on the quarks of a neutron then letting the power of the diffracting electron shift the message outwards to the next electron. And the kil’ini can see all that, apparently.”

“Keeble... What? I only have high school physics and that was about ten years ago.”

“That’s more than I have. I read some basic books and talked to some pilots...”

“The upshot is?”

“If we can get the lightning to work then it will give us enough power for about five seconds of message, I think. But we don’t know if we’ve got enough power to build up the lightning. We’ve collected all the batteries we could find but—”

Kim was still stuck on ‘lightning’. “Whoa. Wait a sec. Lightening? The ansible is powered by lightning?”

“Yes. Something about separating the electrons from the somethings... I’ll have to get some more books on physics I think. You humans are a long way ahead of dwarves. Anyway, all the particles in the universe are linked sub-atomically and so...”

“So it can get there almost instantly?”

Keeble nodded, showing his usual reluctance when he wasn’t 100 percent sure. “Yes.”

“As long as you understand.”

Obviously he didn’t. The dwarf glared and made his way to where Cuto and Suldon waited by the ansible. It was a strange contraption, hardly what Kim expected from what was this universe’s first lightning-powered-faster-than-light radio. There were pipes and valves and chambers that might’ve had something to do with some kind of gas, plus wires and circuits and... Kim didn’t know what else there was. It looked a complete mess, like something a child would use as a make-believe engine for his make believe car.

“That can’t possibly work,” Kim muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

Kim was surprised again. “Jesus.” She turned to look at Meledrin. “Nothing. I... Do you think it’ll work?”

Meledrin shrugged her thin shoulders. “I do not know. Though I believe we should pretend it will work. Plan for that, because all other plans are useless.”

“I don’t know. Maybe...”

Meledrin raise an expressive eyebrow.

“You know, we could...”

“Where will you get the power for this?”

“I don’t know. Gravity is a type of energy and... Jesus.” Kim looked for Keeble, but he was no longer where he’d been. The ansible was gone as well. She spotted him by the Lander, examining the wheels while a handful of dwarves tried to get the machine into the back. “Keeble.”

He didn’t hear.

Meledrin answered instead. “Kim, what is it?”

Kim ignored her and rushed over to Keeble’s side.

“Keeble.”

“What?”

“There may be some more electricity.”

“Where?”

“In the floor. There must be some machines still working to make gravity, otherwise without centrifugal force we’d all be floating around in here.”

Keeble shook his head and pointed to where several dwarves were working at a panel in the floor. “Already thought of that. Doesn’t work. It isn’t real gravity and it’s just stored in a kind of electronic sponge that releases it slowly. Stay in the ship in this universe too long and you’ll start to loose weight.”

“Shit. God damn it.” Kim sighed and looked around. “Well, I guess we need everything in this room either made secure or moved out. There’ll be a lot of air trying to get out of here very soon.” And what a waste of air it was going to be. How many hours would that shorten their stay? Could they pump it to another room? Possibly, but all the other rooms were full of air as well. Shit. “Scree, whoever’s going to push that thing has to be in EVA suits. And the crew.”

“Yeps.” He sent trolls running. They were already in the suits, but needed the breathing apparatus.

Soon everyone seemed to be doing something, except Kim, who stood and watched.

Trolls were loading the ansible into the back of the Lander. Dwarves were ready to attach the mess of equipment to the half dozen batteries already inside.

“All we can do is try.”

“Yes.”

“Listen, Keeble, I am sorry for getting you into this mess. Sorry for getting everyone into it.”

The dwarf shrugged. “The only people who don’t make mistakes are the ones who aren’t trying.” Imminent death seemed to have mellowed him.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged again.

“Be careful.”

“I want to live, Kim. There is so much more to find out. Even just on this ship.”

“If we get out of this I’ll let you pull this thing apart piece by piece.”

He smiled and grunted all at once. “No, you won’t. But thanks for the offer.”

“I will, just not all at the same time.”

“We’d better go.”

“Yes.”

Scree, Cuto and Suldon were waiting by the Lander.

“What we want is a ruck, behind this Lander,” Keeble was saying to the trolls. “We want as much speed as possible.”

“What we want first,” Kim said to the two of them, “is for everyone not involved in this operation out of here.”

“That means you too, Kim.”

Kim looked at Scree and nodded. “I know...”

But the troll wasn’t paying attention. He was smiling over her shoulder and shaking his head. When Kim turned to look she almost laughed out loud. Meledrin was dressed in an EVA suit, slim figure hardly making a bulge. She was having little luck trying to shove her wealth of copper colored hear into the hood.

“Mel, what are you doing?”

“I will be going with Scree and Keeble.”

“What? You... Suldon can...”

“Yes, he can. But so can I. I can do the task, but if we are unsuccessful then Suldon will be more use to you here than I will.”

“Are you sure, Mel? This will be...”

“Difficult? What is so difficult about listening to Cuto to make sure he says what we need him to say? What will Suldon do that I cannot do if the hurgon cheats us, which is unlikely anyway? We have a couple of seconds at most. All any elf will be doing is passing the news onto Scree so he can take out his frustration.”

“Mel, I—”

“Is there any reason I should not go?”

“Well, no. But what would Palsamon think of this?”

“What does it matter what he thinks?”

Kim shook her head. “If you love him, then it matters. You once asked me what love is, Mel— love makes it impossible to think of yourself without thinking of someone else in the same heartbeat. It means always wondering what that person would think before coming to a decision. Sometimes what the other person thinks makes no difference, but it’s the wondering that counts.”

Scree watched from nearby.

“Then I do not love him,” Meledrin said.

Kim could do nothing but gape.

“It is decided then,” the elf added.

“Okay then.” She turned away before she wrung the elf’s neck. “Who’s opening the door?”

From among the ruck of trolls, Gulch and Creek volunteered.

“Right, just open the door a little bit at first to let the air out a bit slower.” Kim nodded and looked around. She knew she was running out of reasons to stall. “Everyone who’s pushing, riding or opening, into position. Everyone else into the airlock.”

Gulch and Peak moved to the door. Kim followed the crew to the rear of the Lander. They’d be sealed inside before the door was opened to give them a little bit more air.

“Be careful,” Kim said, “though I don’t really know how you can do that. If something happens and you don’t make it through the gate we’ll try to get you back but... An emergency grappling cable or something... Perhaps we should tie one to you now?”

Keeble shook his head. “The drag could make us go anywhere. Leave it. Worry about that if the time comes. It won’t make any difference.”

“Right. Good luck.”

“There’s nothing more we can do, Kim,” Scree said. “There’s nothing more you can do.”

“I know. But...”

“Get out or we’ll be here all day. Where’s the bloody elf?”

Kim turned and saw Meledrin standing near the door with Gulch. She was staring out a window. “Mel?”

Perhaps she was having second thoughts, though that would be a first, and those thoughts wouldn’t show externally. Kim sighed and turned back to Scree.

“Be careful.”

The big man smiled slightly in reply and pushed her towards the door.

Kim didn’t look back until she was in the air lock and a troll was winding the handle to close the door. Scree was stalking across the hangar to Meledrin’s side while Keeble checked over the ungainly makeshift spacesuit the dwarves had made for Cuto. Kim wondered if she would see any of them again.

39: All of Space

Meledrin did not want to be thrown out into the nothing, but if there was a chance of dying in her own universe, she knew what she would chose every day. The swirling mists outside nauseated her— just the thought of them. And the stillness on the ship. Every noise seemed to be deadened, every breath stale and lifeless. The cold clarity of space made her nervous, but she would go through anything for one more glimpse of starlight.

Finally, she did wonder what Palsamon might think. She wondered what he was doing. She liked the way he looked when he slept. Back on Sherindel she had lain awake many a night watching his face. Though she was sure he was completely honest with her, she thought that while he slept he was truly open, not just telling the truth, but the whole truth.

“I do not know what he would say.” It was such a strange situation that she could not even begin to guess.

“Whats?”

Meledrin jumped. She had not heard Scree walking up behind her. “Nothing.” She smoothed at her EVA suit, as if it could be any smoother.

“Right. We’s all ready. Let’s get in the Lander.”

Meledrin noticed that Kim and the non-participants had already left— the airlock on the far side of the hangar was almost completely closed. Everyone else was fitting masks and breathers. Cuto’s EVA suit was a rough, dwarvish alteration of a dwarf-sized suit with a clear plastic bucket for a helmet. She fingered her own breathing apparatus as she watched, but did not put it on. Everyone was moving quietly, slowly, as if at a religious ceremony or in the presence of a dying friend. Even the trolls, congregating near the back of the Lander, seemed to be taken by the mood. Keeble stumped forward slowly to check the angle of the ramp one more time then turned and went back again.

While this last activity continued, Meledrin turned back to look out the small view port near the door’s controls. Swirling tendrils of mist were licking at the glass, testing it as if alive, exploring. She wondered if she had made the right decision.

She muttered a Lesser Action and stepped closer to the glass, examining the mist as if its secret might be revealed. She saw nothing more but her unease grew with each passing moment. The mist was hypnotic, beckoning her into the cold, unknowable darkness.

“You should get in the Lander,” Gulch said from nearby.

He was barely audible from behind his breather mask but Meledrin was still surprised by his voice. She gave a small nod but still didn’t move. She wished she had not volunteered for this assignment and considered fleeing back to the airlock to locate Suldon. But before she had a chance to do anything, Scree grabbed her by the arm and started to draw her towards the Lander.

Meledrin refused to be dragged like a reluctant child. She shook off the big man’s grip. He turned to look at her, face twisted into a smile, and she motioned him on while smoothing her clothes once more. The troll should not have touched her, but threats and indignation were unlikely to affect him in any way.

Keeble was already in the front passenger’s seat, and Scree climbed into the driver’s seat, so Meledrin was forced to endure Flint’s assistance as she climbed in the back of the Lander with Cuto and the equipment. There was scarcely room. She slipped carefully past the pile of batteries and found herself a seat behind Scree. A troll slammed the back door shut and checked the seals. He waved at the back window, faceless in his mask, and gave the thumbs up as if that might settle her nerves. She flicked her fingers in a nervous Changing and took a deep breath. She tried Greater Action as well, but neither seemed to help.

The trolls are probably enjoying every moment of this. They are worse than dwarves with a new tool.

When the head disappeared from the window a moment later, Meledrin thought her heart would stop beating. The silence deepened. She looked out the front window in time to see Gulch and Creek starting to open the huge outer door. They did not open it very far, no more than a few centimeters.

For a long while nothing more happened and Meledrin dared to hope that Kim had called off the foolish mission.

But then the two trolls started to work at the wheel again, opening the door further. The mist licked at the edge of the door, feeling, seeking, testing.

When the door was all the way open Keeble looked at the angle of the ramp once more, leaning forward in his seat and muttering to himself. He gave the thumbs up and settled down.

The Lander moved forward as the trolls began to push.

It tilted forward, gathering speed. Meledrin looked out the rear window again as the vehicle moved lower and the trolls came into view. When the small vehicle moved off the ramp, thumping down onto the floor, Meledrin gripped the seat tighter and closed her eyes. Nobody was going to be looking at her. She hoped.

They flew clear of the ship completely and might as well not have been moving at all. She could feel nothing. She opened her eyes and looked around. The Lander had not fallen apart. All the evidence suggested they were still alive.

But it was difficult to tell if the Lander was moving at all. They were still in the other universe and shimmering disc of the gate filled most of the forward view so it just seemed to hang there, motionless. Meledrin could have gone to the rear window to view the Hakahei as it would be a better reference, but she was loath to move at all. She stayed where she was and waited to see what would happen.

Time seemed to stretch. The universe slowed.

And Meledrin thought she could feel the moment when the Lander finally stopped. If Scree kicked out the front window he could have almost reached out and touched the Ohoga Gate. They could have leapt out of the craft and into the other universe. But it would do them no good. Without the Lander there was no ansible. Without the ansible there was no help. And without help there was no hope.

If she was alone she may well have cried. She waved a slow, listless Greater Changing. After a moment of thought she sighed and waved a Greater Ending. Was there anything else? Supreme Ending? Ultimate Ending? Final Ending?

She slumped back in the seat, exhausted by the tension of the last couple of days.

Oh, for the forests of Sherindel. To see Palsamon’s face one more time.

She looked at the two men in the front of the Lander, strange companions for an elf over a few short days that felt like a lifetime. They were not bad, as far as men went. Both intelligent and resourceful in their own way...

“Squished kittens,” Scree said fiercely. “I could...”

If he said any more Meledrin did not hear for outside the rear window of the Lander a craft appeared, shouldering aside the mist.

It took Meledrin a moment to realize that it actually was a craft. It was huge, dwarfing the Hakahei. It was like a cliff as it came abreast of them, a mountain slowly drifting forward. Windows, marks on the hull, mounted equipment and bulges. They all streamed by silently, trailing mist behind.

Meledrin had no doubt that this was a ship belonging to the multeese, the aliens that had chased them near Sherindel, the one that had forced Kim into prematurely activating the Ohoga Gate. This was the alien that Kim wished to defeat.

The multeese were probably laughing, if such cold creatures knew how to do such a thing.

The craft seemed to just keep going. Meledrin gaped. It was staggering. It was unbelievable. So much so that Meledrin thought she was imagining the whole thing. But Keeble and Scree were watching as well.

Though the troll was not staring at the craft, merely looking. Not scared, merely curious. Keeble was talking in a long string of babble that might well have been a foreign language for all Meledrin could understand. Mass to force ratio. Habhod equations. Dispersion.

“They’s goin’ slow,” Scree said.

Keeble nodded. “Maybe they wanted to have a look at us.”

“Why?” Meledrin asked. Though from all evidence the multeese enjoyed watching the squirming of what it considered lesser creatures.

“Does seem a bits pointless when they could squish us any time they want.”

“Except now, apparently,” Keeble said still watching. “Maybe their ship doesn’t work here either.”

The craft was approximately ten kilometers long, according to Tuki, and yet it was going to pass them in less than a minute. It was hardly the last thing she wanted to see before she died. Scree agreed.

“This ain’t any way to die,” the troll said.

“Don’t give up yet,” Keeble said.

“What you talking abouts?”

“Wait.” Keeble grabbed Scree’s arm. It was not a clutch of fear or goodbye. It was one of hope.

“Wait for what? We ain’t going nowhere.”

Scree was right. They were completely motionless. Stuck. Meledrin had seen it some time ago. And the way Cuto was slumped in the seat suggested the alien did as well. It was only Keeble.

And as soon as she had decided that Keeble was slipping towards his quiet insanity once more, as soon as she opened her mouth to... Meledrin felt the Lander move. It inched forward until its nose was touching the gate. Then, in a sudden rush, as the alien ship was finally past them and sailing away, the Lander was flung through the gate and into the other universe.

Meledrin stared, willing each breath into her lungs, concentrating on each beat of her heart. They had been motionless. She was sure. And yet they had moved quicker than they had moved for their entire short journey. What had happened? In the front seat Scree and Keeble were shouting with joy, filling the Lander with the sounds of life. Scree was punching the air. Keeble was jumping about on his seat.

Meledrin didn’t move. She barely even noticed the spinning of the ship as she tried to gather her thoughts.

“Yes.”

When she looked again, Keeble was doing a jig in his seat.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He slapped Scree on the shoulder and he big man smiled in response, looking slightly bemused.

Meledrin drew in a deep breath and waved a shaking-fingered Greater Changing. “What happened? We had ceased to move.”

It took a while for Keeble to calm down and answer. “Turbulence, woman. Slip streams.”

“What?”

“Quiet now. I’m not sure how much air is in these bottles. We need it for talking to Cuto’s family. Scree, get us pointed in the right direction. Use as little power as possible.”

“Won’t take much.” Scree fired up the ship and stopped their wild cartwheeling. While he worked on pointing them in the right direction, as supplied by Tuki, Keeble climbed into the rear of the craft and started to work with the ansible. After a few minutes of inactivity Cuto started to help. Meledrin translated as the two of them worked. It was not long before they were ready.

“Right.” Keeble sat back on his haunches in the confined space and looked at Meledrin. “Tell Cuto that he’ll have a couple of seconds of talking at most. He needs to get his family to this spot as quickly as possible.”

“I am aware, Keeble. I will tell him.”

“There’s more. After we fire this thing up there are no second chances. It’ll use every bit of power we have. We won’t have any lights. The oxygen circulation system won’t work. Nothing. We might have a few hours of air. And then a few more hours in our suit breather packs.”

“Yes.” She had known all that but it was different with Keeble telling her in such a serious tone.

“After we send the message we’ll have about ten hours I think. At most. Even if the hurgon come, we may be dead.”

“Yes.” Must he continue belaboring the point?

“So we have to conserve air. We send the message and then everyone sits and doesn’t move. When breathing gets hard we’ll put on the breathers. And we try to go to sleep. And that’s it. No talking. No moving. We sit.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell Cuto.”

Meledrin did.

“Keeble should leave the oxygen tanks off most of the time,” Cuto said after he’d heard the plan. “When it becomes hard to breathe, the breathers are used while the bad air is vented, then the tanks are opened to let in fresh air. That will help a little.”

“Very well.” Meledrin passed on the information.

Keeble nodded his acknowledgment then turned to Scree. “We right, Scree?”

“Yeps.”

“Right then. The most important couple of seconds of our lives.” He nodded to Cuto.

Meledrin held her breath, as if that little bit of extra oxygen in the cabin might help. Cuto positioned himself, took a deep breath of Meledrin’s saved oxygen, and hit a button on the ansible.

The light in the cabin flickered for a second as the hurgon spoke quickly. Then the light was gone and all was silent.

“What did he say?” Scree asked quietly.

Meledrin breathed. “He first said two words I do not know and then some numbers.”

“Ask him what the words were,” Keeble said.

Meledrin thought of pointing out that they were not supposed to waste oxygen by speaking, but did not. She asked. She was too tired and distracted to voice any disagreements.

“Cuto. What were those two words? Meledrin does not know them.”

He looked up. “The first was a family password— one that will need to be changed now that it has been blurted across the galaxy.”

“We can hope that it was anyway,” she replied. "Hopefully someone heard.”

“The other was a code requesting emergency assistance. The rest was coded coordinates. Or close enough for a kil’ini to find this place.”

“Meledrin hopes it is enough.”

“So does Cuto."

Meledrin translated the conversation and Keeble nodded his approval. “Good. We should sit down and be quiet now.”

“Very well.”

But the dwarf did not move. Meledrin blushed as he looked her up and down.

“What is it you are wanting?” she asked.

“Your legs are longer than mine. There’s more room in the front.”

“So? I...” She realized he was offering her the more comfortable seat. She gaped for a moment. It was a kindness she did not expect from a dwarf, especially here at the end of the world. “Thank you, Keeble. That is most kind.”

Keeble grunted in response as Meledrin climbed through the gap and into the front seat. She watched the dwarf for a moment as he turned off the oxygen supply, as Cuto had suggested.

Then they settled down to wait with, seemingly, all of space spread before them and all of time behind.

<<<<>>>>

End Part 2

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Tribes of the Hakahei:

Part 3

The Time Comes

by

Scott J. Robinson

(Copyright 2012)

This book is

dedicated to

My Parents—

Dianne and Les

For the usual reasons

Contents

    Prologue

1. Dirty Air

2. Family Business

3. Greater Good

4. Until We Know

5. Rescue

6. Repairs

7. Solitude

8. Knowing a Bit

9. Sunshine

10. Salvation

11. A Special Word

12. Working

13. Stars

14. Waiting

15. Worst Case

16. Grey and Forlorn

17. Murmurings

18. The Wrong Way

19. Lay of the Land

20. Easy

21. New Shift

22. The Gap

23. Committees

24. Two Options

25. A Good Plan

26. Gone Quietly

27. The Garden Option

28. A Bigger Room

29. A Good Guy

30. Things She’d Seen

31. Thinking About It

32. Timely and Profitable

33. Remember

34. Different People

35. Red Flags

36. Not Dead Yet

Prologue

***

Otherwhen

Time seemed to stretch. The universe slowed.

And Meledrin thought she could feel the moment when the Lander finally stopped. If Scree kicked out the front window he could have almost reached out and touched the Ohoga Gate. They could have leapt out of the craft and into the other universe. But it would do them no good. Without the Lander there was no ansible. Without the ansible there was no help. And without help there was no hope.

If she was alone she may well have cried. She waved a slow, listless Greater Changing. After a moment of thought she sighed and waved a Greater Ending. Was there anything else? Supreme Ending? Ultimate Ending? Final Ending?

She slumped back in the seat, exhausted by the tension of the last couple of days.

Oh, for the forests of Sherindel. To see Palsamon’s face one more time.

She looked at the two men in the front of the Lander, strange companions for an elf over a few short days that felt like a lifetime. They were not bad, as far as men went. Both intelligent and resourceful in their own way...

“Squished kittens,” Scree said fiercely. “I could...”

If he said any more Meledrin did not hear for outside the rear window of the Lander a craft appeared, shouldering aside the mist.

It took Meledrin a moment to realize that it actually was a craft. It was huge, dwarfing the Hakahei. It was like a cliff as it came abreast of them, a mountain slowly drifting forward. Windows, marks on the hull, mounted equipment and bulges. They all streamed by silently, trailing mist behind.

Meledrin had no doubt that this was a ship belonging to the multeese, the aliens that had chased them near Sherindel, the one that had forced Kim into prematurely activating the Ohoga Gate. This was the alien that Kim wished to defeat.

The multeese were probably laughing, if such cold creatures knew how to do such a thing.

The craft seemed to just keep going. Meledrin gaped. It was staggering. It was unbelievable. So much so that Meledrin thought she was imagining the whole thing. But Keeble and Scree were watching as well.

Though the troll was not staring at the craft, merely looking. Not scared, merely curious. Keeble was talking in a long string of babble that might well have been a foreign language for all Meledrin could understand. Mass to force ratio. Habhod equations. Dispersion.

“They’s goin’ slow,” Scree said.

Keeble nodded. “Maybe they wanted to have a look at us.”

“Why?” Meledrin asked. Though from all evidence the multeese enjoyed watching the squirming of what it considered lesser creatures.

“Does seem a bits pointless when they could squish us any time they want.”

“Except now, apparently,” Keeble said, still watching.

Otherwhere

“Whenever you’re ready, Flint,” Keeble muttered.

“Ready for what? You want us to attack them?”

“No. Just get us out of here.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to get us out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Well...”

“Let’s just run then?” Keeble liked simple plans—unlike the bloody hurgon. They couldn’t go back the way they’d come. They were closer to a door on the other side of the platform. “Over there and up the stairs.”

“On three then.”

Keeble hadn’t known Flint could count to three.

“One... Two... Three.”

They turned and ran.

Behind them, the hurgon fired their weapons. Keeble felt a tickle against his shoulder. The hairs on his arm stood on end. He cursed as he bounded up the stairs behind Suldon.

There were shouted warnings and screams from behind. There were what could only be flung insults. But the firing of the weapons continued. Safely off the platform, Keeble stopped to look at his shoulder. The material of his shirt had been burned away. A ragged black hole showed red skin beneath.

“Whistler, that was close.”

“So what do we do now?” Sandy asked. She had a burn on her hip. It didn’t look good to Keeble but the trollop didn’t seem worried.

Another troop of P’targa soldiers rushed past, weapons at the ready. They charged down into the train station, firing as they went. Two died before they’d gone more than a couple of steps.

Keeble swallowed. Nina moved up the stairs and leaned against the wall. She stared at her hands and didn’t say anything. And Flint went the other way, taking a peek around the corner. And a second later the troll dashed out onto the platform, grabbed a weapon from a fallen P’targa and came back again.

“Don’t do that, Flint,” Keeble said. “That’s an order.”

The troll shrugged. “They was busy.” He gave the weapon to Sandy. It was only a glove, not an entire sleeve, but looked to be the same as the weapons attached to the armor.

“They might have been busy, but I’m sure they’d stop what they were doing to shoot a hakan if they had the chance.”

“Maybe.”

“What were they doing?”

“Shooting. Dying.”

“Who was doing which?”

“Everyone was doing both.”

a

1: Dirty Air

Ping wondered why her heart was pounding. Was it for the interminable minutes the Lander had hung before the Ohoga Gate? Was it because the multeese ship had sailed silently past them in the mist? Or was it because, after the huge vessel had passed, the Hakahei had been drawn forward, towards the gate. The Lander had passed through, taken to the other universe, but they had been spun off into the nothing. Or maybe her heart was pounding because the Hakahei was spinning still, moving further away from the location of the gate and the Lander by the moment.

The trolls and elves were the only ones who seemed to have reacted differently. The elves acted as if they saw twenty-kilometer long spacecraft every other day. The trolls were suitably impressed but still spent the two and a half minutes of the ships’ alignment looking for weaknesses in the enemy. Apparently they didn’t see any.

“Flint,” Ping said eventually. “Can you talk to Scree?”

The troll cocked his head to one side and went glassy eyed for several seconds, concentrating intensely. Then he shook his head. “It was worth a try.”

So, Scree and his companions were gone and there was nothing anyone could do to help. To Ping it now felt as if they were waiting to die. She had done that before, after the hurgon had attacked Shadon, and it did not seem any easier this time.

“Now what?” Flint chewed on his moustache and looked around as if hoping the Jugglers of Jilin would appear to entertain him.

Kim joined them. “Now we wait.”

“Wonderful.” Ping said. Waiting to die.

“Yes. No vigorous activity either, Flint. Make sure the trolls don’t go playing football or anything. We don’t know how long our oxygen is going to last as it is.”

Flint grunted in disgust.

“Is walking too vigorous?” Ping asked.

“Probably. Why?”

Ping shrugged and looked down at her old leather shoes. “I wanted to look at the clocks some more. They are amazing.”

Kim shrugged as well. “You like clocks that much?”

“Yes. They make me... They make sense, if you know how to look. They bring order.”

“I try to avoid them personally. Too long in the army, probably.”

“I could look all day.”

“Well, not today, sorry. If you go off to do your thing, everyone else will want to do their thing as well, then everyone’s running around doing something.”

Ping nodded and looked up at a vent in the ceiling that normally dispensed cool, filtered air. “The air is already starting to taste bad,” she said.

“I thought that too.” Kim looked as well. “I was hoping I was imagining things.”

“Maybe you’re both imaging it,” Flint suggested.

“Maybe.” Kim smiled.

Ping continued to examine the vent. “Keeble said there are air recyclers on Level 6.”

“Yes? So? They won’t work without power.”

“I know. But perhaps we can take filters out of them and... I don’t know.... force air through them manually.”

Kim was nodding slowly. “It could work. It won’t be great but...”

“Anything is better than nothing?”

“Exactly. I’ll allow that activity. See what you can work out then. Get some dwarves to help.”

“Me?”

“Who else?” Kim laughed. “You don’t think I’d put one of them in charge, do you?”

“But I’m just a clock making apprentice.”

“Not now, you aren’t. Now you’re a Lieutenant in charge of the ship’s clocks and whatever else I decide. You’re an officer.”

“But... I don’t know if I want to be an officer.”

“Yeah, great isn’t it. Don’t let those dwarves boss you around.”

Ping nodded but wasn’t really sure that it was a good idea at all.

Kim was still talking. “Look, if you don’t want to stay on the ship or anything, that’s fine, but I really don’t want to let any dwarves loose in here without someone watching them. All right?”

“Yes.” Though Ping wasn’t sure. And she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after all this was over. She found it hard to believe she would actually have any choices at all.

“We have air breathers everywhere to go with the EVA suites.” Kim added, turning to Flint. “Can you organize to get those collected and stashed somewhere handy for later on? And we’d better make sure we don’t use too many lamps.”

The lanterns were everywhere in the passage, burning up the oxygen. Ping nodded but wasn’t paying attention. She was thinking of dirty air and dwarves and wasn’t quite sure which she dreaded more. Collecting a lantern she marched away with as much purpose as she could and, as expected, immediately attracted the attention of several dwarves. Most people on the ship had been inactive for a long time and some of the dwarves obviously decided they’d had enough of that. So much so that they were willing to trail along behind a woman. A group of five followed close on her heels, not talking to her, but merely—coincidentally—going in the same direction. Ari and the rest of the dwife ramp-making crew followed as well, hanging well back behind the men.

Ping didn’t say anything. Let them ask if they wanted to know.

When she reached the Engineering level, where the water and air recyclers were located—two of each—Ping did not know which machine might be which. But she remembered an access panel at the back of the cabin she’d chosen as her own and thought that might be a good place to start.

“This is my cabin,” she said when the dwarves started to follow her through the door. “I’m going to have a sleep.”

“You are not going to sleep,” Mintar said. “You are up to something and we need to keep an eye on you.”

Ping tried to keep her eyes on Mintar. “You could try asking.”

The dwarves looked at one another. Ari, standing on her toes, trying to see from the back of the group, was the one who asked. “What are you doing?”

“There are two air recyclers on this level,” Ping said, trying to sound confident. “They probably have filters and pumps that are usually run automatically. I thought that perhaps we could rig some to run manually, with somebody working the pump or something.”

One of the dwarves shook his head. “I thought of that hours ago.”

“You did not Drago,” Makar said. “I have never heard you keep quiet about a three quarters stupid idea, let alone a good one.” He seemed to realize that in making the remark to his friend he had also complimented Ping’s idea. And Ping was a woman. Makar swore and tugged at his plaited grey beard.

“It is a good idea, isn’t it? We just have to get it to work.”

“Well, don’t just stand there then. Let’s go and look.”

“Right, but this is my cabin, so don’t touch anything.” Not that there was much in there. She kept her clockmaker’s toolkit fastened to her belt at all times. The only other things she owned were the tattered clothes she was wearing, which Scree had found for her on her home world of Tiandi. How long ago was that? It seemed a lifetime but was actually less than two weeks.

The panel at the back of the room came away after a couple of seconds of work. The lamplight streaming through the opening revealed a large room full of machinery and shadows.

“Let’s not all waste time wondering around on each other’s heels. Somebody should go and get a full tool kit.”

Nobody moved. The men were looking at the women, as if suddenly expecting them to do something after years of expecting them to stay at home and do nothing. The women were staring back, determined to avoid being cast as the gofers of the group.

Taking a deep breath, Ping picked one of the men at random. It was weather-beaten Dogar. “You, Dogar, get a toolkit from the Engineering department or you can all go back up to Level 3 and sit on your hands.”

The Engineering department was barely five meters away, but the dwarf didn’t move. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Ping took a deep breath. Normally she would agree, she was only an apprentice, after all, but Kim had put her in charge for a reason. And, from the little Ping knew about dwarves, it seemed like a very good reason. She could see Ari and the other dwives watching her silently. They were probably more qualified to give orders, but that was never going to happen. So it’s up to me. Kim was relying on her, to both fix an air recycler and keep the dwarves under control. She took a deep breath. “If we get back to our own universe.... when we get back... we’ll be dropping all the dwarves and elves on a planet under the protection of some humans.” Apparently. That’s what Kim had said.

A couple of the dwarves grunted.

“We’ll be asking some of you if you would like to stay on the Hakahei as part of the crew.”

More grunts.

“Which of you would like to stay?”

Nobody said anything, but it was obvious they all wanted to stay. They were as intrigued and excited by the ship as Keeble was. As much as Ping was herself.

“Right,” she said, “well Kim, a woman, is in charge. Do you think she’ll choose for you to stay on board if you won’t take orders?”

“Well, why don’t you send one of the dwives?”

“Because I’m sending you.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Then go back upstairs.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Ari, you know Flint?” Ping liked Flint. He was the only troll who had a smile that wouldn’t send children and maidens running for the hills. And he’d been there when Ping was promoted.

The dwife nodded nervously.

“Can you go upstairs and ask him to send somebody down to... escort this dwarf back upstairs?”

“Ummm... yes.”

“Good.” She gave a nod that she hoped looked authoritative. “By the time the escort arrives there may be a couple of others going as well.”

“Very well.”

Before Ari had taken two steps the Dogar’s shoulders slumped. “All right. I’ll get your tool box.”

“Thank you. Just leave it on the floor here when you have it. We don’t want to drag it around too far until we know where we’re going.”

Ari smiled, but Ping could only sigh with relief. Now that she had them thinking about the idea of taking orders from her, she needed to show them that she wasn’t a tyrant and would listen. For one thing, they’d know a lot more about most of the things than she did. Ping almost decided it was absurd for her to order the dwarves around—they instinctively knew how to fix things, how to build things. But in the last few days Kim had shown that knowing how to do things had nothing to do with knowing what needed to be done. The experts were there to come up with answers to the leaders’ questions.

She cleared her throat and looked around at the dwarves for a moment. “If anyone sees anything—or thinks of anything—say so straight away, no matter how silly you think the idea might be,” Ping said to them. “That silly idea might help somebody think of a better idea. And we need all the help we can get.”

With another deep breath, which didn’t help as much as it should, Ping climbed through into the room and a line of dwarves followed.

They wandered around for five minutes, shining lanterns into corners and holding them high to illuminate the machines.

“I think this is a water recycler,” Drago said.

Ping wandered over to his side, as did a few other dwarves.

“Why do you say that?” Makar asked.

“There’s sand in here,” the dwarf indicated a large metal cylinder he’d been examining. There was a lid on the floor near his feet. “Sand wouldn’t help with filtering air—no air I’ve ever seen anyway.”

Ping nodded.

“There’s a door down in the back corner,” Topper said. “We should look through there.”

The door led to another large room and more strange machinery. It was tied in knots with large loops of pipe that disappeared into walls and ceiling and floor. It looked promising.

“I’ll see if I can...” Makar looked at Ping, lips pursed. He cleared his throat and looked at his companions. “How about I take a look and see what’s in there?” He pointed to a metal tank that went almost to the ceiling and had one pipe entering—or exiting—the top and another at floor level. There were several similar set-ups surrounding a mass of equipment in the center of the room.

Ping smiled and nodded and the dwarf set off.

“I’ll need tools,” he said when he had climbed to the top. “A spanner and a hex-driver.”

Ping looked at the rest of the group. Dogar sighed and started to move back towards where he’d left the tools, but Ping shook her head. To show she was not biased she motioned to Dido. The dwife rushed off. Everyone else started to spread out to see what they could see.

Ping stayed where she was and watched. The arrival of the tools brought a new purpose to the activity.

“Water,” Makar said when he’d removed the panel.

“What?”

“It’s full of water.”

Ping climbed up beside him to look. “Maybe this is for water recycling then.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not.”

“See the way this pipe goes in, starting up above the water level like that?”

Ping nodded.

“If you blow air in through there, it goes through the water, then will get forced out that other pipe by pressure. There are two other pipes on the other side there that go to that main tank in the center of the room. Probably to make sure there’s always fresh water.”

Ping thought about it. “So they filter the air through water?”

“I think so.”

“Would that be enough?”

“Not close. But it would certainly help. There’s a lot more equipment to look at yet.”

Ping sighed. She hadn’t expected it to be easy but—

“I think I found the main pump.”

Ping looked around and hurried over when Topper gestured. He was really gesturing to the other dwarves, but Ping went anyway before someone else could take charge.

Topper had removed a panel from the side of a machine to reveal the workings. Ping didn’t know how he knew it was a pump, but nobody disputed his claim.

“Can we work it manually somehow?”

For the next five minutes, the dwarves argued back and forth, pointing and prodding and rebuilding the entire machine with their words. Eventually Topper, first among equals seeing he’d made the original discovery, answered.

“Give us an hour and access to that workshop upstairs and we can do it.”

“How many people?” Ping asked next. She was trying to think logically, which was what the dwarves would do. She was also trying to get them to make all the decisions so all she had to do was give the orders.

Topper looked around. He looked at the pump. He looked up as if he could see the workshop above. His beard waggled back and forth as he added in his head. “Four of us.”

“Four of you can have the pump running manually in one hour?”

“Yes.”

“You’re in charge, Topper. Take Dogar, Ari, Tess and Kesi...”

“But...” He looked shocked by the thought.

“You worked on the ramp with the dwives, didn’t you?” Perhaps he’d only done that because nobody else was watching.

He looked at the other dwarves. “Yes, but—”

“Did the dwives do a good job on the ramp?”

“Yes, but—”

“Very well, then. Drago—”

“All right,” Topper said, holding up a forestalling hand, “but I’m in charge?”

Every little step counted. “Yes. But remember the dwives are extra pairs of hands and fresh viewpoints. Don’t waste them.” Ping gave another sigh. She’d passed a test as much as Topper.

Ping had a smile for Ari as the group broke away to start planning. The rest of the dwarves were waiting.

“What about us?”

“Well...”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I do know.” And she did. Or she thought she did. “What we need to do is close the hangar door and take the dirty air out of the garden and put it in the hangar.”

The men looked at her. One of them nodded. “But we’ll need two pumps for that.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s already gas of some kind in the hangar—from this stupid universe—and cleaning it won’t help make it breathable. And because of that, there’s no room for our air.”

“So we need to empty the hangar?”

“Yes.”

“So we need a pump to pump that gas outside?”

“Yes.”

“So we need two pumps...”

“If we’re going to fill the hangar, yes. But we can just take the air out of the garden and put it back in. It won’t be as efficient as what you want, because we may be cleaning the same air several times before we’re done, but it’ll work.”

Ping chewed on her bottom lip. “Right then. That will do. But the point now is that we need to get the air out of the garden, into the pump we fix, then back into the garden. So we need to know which of these pipes is best and which of these pumps are best.”

Drago smiled—freedom from the woman. “So we go to the garden, find the vents, and follow them to a pump?”

Ping nodded, eventually, but fell back onto her earlier premise. “You dwarves are the experts in this case. How about I just tell you what needs to be done and let you decide how best to do it.” She smiled and none of the men seemed to have any problems with her line of reasoning.

“Sounds reasonable.”

“But...”

“What?”

“Well, I’m in charge, so can you let me know what you’re going to do before you do it? That way nothing is your fault and I know what I am putting my name to.”

Drago laughed. “We can do that, if we must.”

Ping nodded. “Good. I promise not to interfere with the details. And tell Topper what’s happening so he doesn’t start altering a pump prematurely.”

2: Family Business

Meledrin was drifting towards sleep again. She roused herself, shifting in the seat that had ceased being comfortable well before Keeble had purged the stale air for the first time. That process had been repeated twice more but the air had eventually run out completely. Meledrin came to the conclusion that her breather was starting to fail as well.

The expanse of stars was ingrained on her memory from hours of sitting and looking. She thought she knew the position of each of them like Tuki might, though their significance eluded her. And after all that time they were no more attractive than the shifting mist of the other universe. The company of Palsamon had never looked so wonderful, the company of any elves, with conversation and shared remembrances. Instead, she had chosen to spend her last few hours with as mixed a group of people as she could ever find. Not people, even.

Cuto could barely speak with Scree or Keeble, though they were all learning more all the time, so the alien’s sad ramblings, about his family and his world of Hulgorn, had been for Meledrin alone. She had listened quietly, not replying because it was not required of her, but wondering how a creature so removed from her own people could be so similar. And yet Keeble and Scree were so different.

“But perhaps they are not so different after all,” she said softly. “Perhaps they are so similar that the minor differences seem so great.” There was a saying amongst the elves—The closer you stand to the tree, the more of the mountain it hides. There were several meanings already associated with the saying—most of them to do with avoiding dwarves—but Meledrin wondered if perhaps she had found another.

She blinked when she realized she was looking at a new star. She had imagined such a thing so many times over the last few hours and was now reluctant to say anything. She waited, breath held. She tried to wipe at her aching eyes, but the mask made it impossible.

The star grew brighter. She signed a Beginning.

“Scree.” She touched the troll’s arm with a quivering hand and gave no thought to the fact that she was doing so. It was hard to rouse him, but eventually he came awake.

“What is its?”

“Look there. The star...”

The troll looked, but seemed as unsure as she.

“Do you think it is becoming brighter?”

“Maybes?” He too, tried to rub at his eyes. “Yo, Keeble.” He reached around behind his seat and thumped the dwarf on the leg.

Soon Keeble and Cuto were staring out into space as well.

We are all wardens waiting for the first seed of the season to fall from the Ohoga Tree, Meledrin thought, leaning forward as if that might help her see. And they all watched the light falling towards them.

Perhaps Cuto could see better than anyone else, or perhaps it knew in some other way, but the alien was the first to let excitement bubble to the surface. It shook Meledrin’s seat in a lumpy fist and slapped Keeble on the knee.

“It is Cuto’s family,” the alien said in its throaty voice. “That is a kil’ini.”

“How does Cuto know?”

But Cuto didn’t answer and the star continued to grow.

Several minutes later it was obvious to everyone that it was not a star. Several minutes after that a kil’ini came to a stop a short distance away.

“That is Lisa’lee’la,” Cuto said. “Lisa’lee’la is in partnership with one of Cuto’s Aunts and Uncles. A fine kil’ini.”

“What will Lisa’lee’la do?” Meledrin asked.

“Watch at first, suspecting a trap.”

Meledrin translated for Scree and Keeble.

“We’re running out of air,” Keeble said. “We don’t have time to sit here waiting.”

“We can’t do nothing else,” Scree told him. “So sits down and don’t get excited.”

“Don’t get excited? How can I not?”

“It won’t helps. Mel, ask Cuto how good the kil’ini can see. If he comes and sits up here, will it be able to recognize him?”

Meledrin asked. “Cuto says yes. But they still may suspect a trap.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing.”

Meledrin shifted aside slightly while Scree slid between the two seats into the rear compartment and motioned Cuto forward. The alien nodded and moved as quickly as the confined space allowed. It crouched on the front seat and waved its arms in the kil’ini sign language.

Then they all watched and waited. Scree and Keeble were gripping the backs of the front seats, heads close together as they examined the strange creature before them.

To Meledrin it felt as if half an hour passed before something else happened, but it could not have been so long. She watched as the creature reached out with a long tentacle. The tentacle stopped before it came within fifty meters.

“Lisa’lee’la is just being cautious,” Cuto explained. “A little bit at a time.”

Several minutes later the tentacle came closer and carefully wrapped around the Lander. And then, again, the kil’ini waited.

“A little bit at a time.” It seemed that Cuto wished to jump for joy but was afraid that any such movements might be interpreted in the wrong fashion. The alien squirmed on the seat.

When the kil’ini finally started to draw the Lander closer, the hurgon leaned forward even as Meledrin was leaning back. The window of the small craft was brought up close to a large, dark eye that examined them all closely with a cold, unblinking gaze. They were shifted to another eye.

“Kil’ini see differently with each eye,” Cuto waved arms in the air, still conversing with the kil’ini. ¨And each eye has been connected to different systems inside.”

“You mean that the hurgon don’t just ride inside the kil’ini and go where they are taken?”

“Once, but not any more. Hurgon have many systems like humans have, all linked into the kil’ini. Aunt Meenu will be looking at Cuto and Meledrin right now.”

“Really?” Meledrin reflexively reached up to straighten her hair, but her head was covered by the EVA suit’s mask and hood. If they did not realize she and her companions were wearing protective clothing they may be mistaken for some strange grub-like creatures. Thankfully, Cuto’s makeshift suit left the alien’s face in view behind a clear, plastic faceplate.

“What is happening now?” They were moving again.

“Lisa’lee’la is going to eat us.”

Meledrin gasped, but Cuto did not appear to be worried. The alien was jumping about excitedly.

“The kil’ini is going to eat us,” Meledrin told Scree and Keeble. “That is a good thing, I believe. I can think of no other way that we might gain access to the inside. No other way I would prefer, that is.”

Scree turned to look in her direction. She could not see his face. “Did you just make a joke, Meledrin? I don’t believe it.”

Meledrin was not sure she believed it herself. Could the simple truth be a joke? She knew she felt like smiling, but doubted that had anything to do with humor. They were several minutes away from certain life or certain death. She would take either of those situations over the suspended agony of the previous few hours.

An orifice opened at the front of the huge creature and the Lander was fed carefully inside.

“Cuto and the hakans must wait a short while,” Cuto said softly. ¨It takes time for the kil’ini to seal properly and then fill with air.”

The Lander floated weightlessly in the center of a chamber almost a hundred meters across. The walls were dark and rubbery. The orifice they had entered through was throbbing slightly. Meledrin imagined muscles working beneath the surface, tightening slowly. Light came from all around.

When a hole opened at the other end of the chamber, Cuto fumbled with the manual controls on the Lander door and pushed it open. He ripped off his helmet and had an alien smile for everyone.

“It has been done.” The alien jumped around, showing more animation than any time previously.

“Keeble,” Meledrin said. “Do you think it is safe for us to breathe this air?”

“He can breathe ours, can’t he?” Scree replied.

“But perhaps he is more robust than us in that respect.”

Scree was already taking off his mask. Meledrin watched, suddenly nervous.

“If we can’t breathe we’s dead anyways.” He took a deep breath while Meledrin held hers. “Don’t taste too good, but neither did the stuff in here.”

“You want to stop him?” Keeble asked, pointing as Cuto climbed out through the open hatch.

“What for? We’s at their mercy now. A hostage won’t help us.”

The hurgon pushed off from the side of the Lander and flew towards a wall. At various places around the room eyes on stalks moved to watch the alien’s progress. Pairs of tentacles below each one were waving conversations, though to who, Meledrin could not say.

Keeble grunted and watched as Cuto clutched at a lump on the wall and stopped. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sures.”

“All right then. Well, are you going to get out?”

“Me? Nopes. Meledrin is going first.”

“Me?” Meledrin pulled off her mask and carefully tested the air. Scree was correct—it did taste horrible, but did not seem harmful. “Why am I alighting first?” She shook free her coppery hair and combed her fingers through it. It would take a week to get out the tangles.

“You want them to see me first?” Scree asked. “Besides, you the communicator.”

“Yes, I am.”

Meledrin suddenly wished she were still back in the other universe. Suldon seemed to adapt to change much more readily than she. He thought on his feet while she was loath to step beyond the bounds of tradition. But then, perhaps, in this situation, decorum and calm was what was needed, not quick thinking. She took a deep breath and climbed out into the kil’ini.

The lack of up and down made Meledrin feel ill, as did the entire concept of floating in mid-air. Cuto did not seem worried. Neither did Scree as he came out into the open. Meledrin was pleased to see that at least Keeble clutched at the open Lander hatch as if afraid of losing his balance.

Five hurgon appeared at the small, puckered door. Four were dressed in brown uniforms and armed with large bulky weapons that fitted over their arms. The final hurgon, also armed, was bare-chested and wore loose-fitting, purple pantaloons.

The weapons were not just weapons, if they were at all. The aliens pointed the machines behind them and fired small bursts of energy that allowed them to maneuver in the zero gravity. One hurgon stopped by Cuto, who had been excitedly conducting an arm waving conversation since exiting the Lander. Another stayed near the door and the third moved ten meters further around the wall. The other two continued forward.

Meledrin flinched, despite her best efforts, when the weapon arms were pointed in her direction but the hurgon fired the engines and came to a smooth stop just three meters away. Scree scowled.

“Greetings,” Meledrin said when it became apparent the others were not going to speak. She attempted a bow and started to rotate slowly. She increased the problem when she started to flap her hands in a moment of panic. Too late, she remembered the aliens might interpret a flapping of hands as laugher. They certainly did not look pleased. She stilled her hands and tried to think.

Scree came to the rescue. Anchoring himself to the front of the Lander, he reached out and oriented her correctly. Meledrin did not look at the troll, though he had touched her without warning, and tried to repair her fraying dignity.

“Greetings,” she said again, coughing and grumbling through the word. “This one is called Meledrin. Please, excuse Meledrin for not constantly attempting the appropriate Ini Rituals. Meledrin’s awkwardness in zero gravity has been witnessed. Also, understanding of the Rituals are limited. No disrespect is meant to hurgon or kil’ini.” Without the rituals, the kil’ini, which could not hear, would be unable to follow the conversation, but that could not be helped.

The colorfully dressed hurgon grunted and removed its arm from the weapon sleeve. “Would Meledrin object if Kato,” it said, gesturing to its companion, “translated into the Ini Rituals?”

“No objection would be made.”

Kato, the interpreter, slipped its arm from its weapon as well and proceeded to gesticulate wildly, apparently bringing the kil’ini up to date on the conversation so far.

“This one is Guvi. Does Guvi speak to the leader?”

Meledrin considered the question, turning to regard Scree. Nothing had ever been made official—why would it be in such a small group—but Kim obviously saw Scree as her second in command even though he had not been on board the Hakahei as long as others. Meledrin decided she did not desire the position herself, but wished there was a woman who could take it on.

“No, Meledrin is not the leader,” she said eventually. “The leader is currently trapped in the other universe that hakans use for interstellar travel.”

The hurgon grunted.

“And of the hakans who are present, Scree,” she motioned towards her companion, “is in charge. May Meledrin inquire as to your position?”

“Guvi is a second cousin—the highest ranking military officer on board.”

“Greetings Guvi.”

“What is it the hakans want?”

“Our leader wishes for Lisa’lee’la to pass through to the other universe and bring back the stranded construct and the hakans on board.”

“Why would Lisa’lee’la do that?”

Meledrin saw Cuto suddenly go still in the background, pausing halfway through a gesture. Meledrin licked her lips. Perhaps Cuto should have thought to warn her of hurgon politics and laws. Perhaps she should have thought to ask. She tried to think.

“Is Guvi a member of the T’loop family? Or is Guvi a member of a military force assigned to Lisa’lee’la by outside parties?” The alien’s wording had not made that clear, perhaps deliberately so.

“We don’t have all day, Meledrin,” Scree said softly. She nodded slightly in reply.

“That is not Meledrin’s concern.”

“So Guvi is not a member of the T’loop family? Then it is Meledrin’s concern, for certain agreements have been reached that are not for public dissection.”

Cuto was vigorously waving his arms once more.

Guvi stared. “Hurgon are at war with hakans. All things are the concern of the Multicracy.”

“Meledrin is not from a military construct. These hakans are not a part of the war.”

“That is yet to be decided. Guvi can—”

“Second Cousin.”

Everyone turned to see another hurgon entering the room. Guvi scowled.

“What is it, Meenu?” Guvi did not complete the Ini rituals, and neither did his interpreter. Apparently they did not feel that their conversation should be for public dissection either. The newcomer did wave its arms though, and Cuto translated the Second Cousin’s words for the kil’ini.

Meenu shifted its hands in a fashion that Meledrin knew to be a smile. Though why the kil’ini could not see a smile was beyond her.

“Guvi knows the charter very well. Multicracy personnel cannot interfere in family business, even in times of war.”

“This is not family business.”

“Of course it is, Guvi. Lisa’lee’la travelled here in response to a T’loop coded message in which emergency assistance was requested. It was not a Multicracy code. It was not for general listening.”

“The detour was allowed on the understanding that it was a military matter.”

“No contracts were drawn. No verbal agreement was reached.”

“That is irrelevant, Aunt. These hakans are now officially prisoners of the Multicracy. If this is not liked, Meenu can take it up with the Cousin Commander when Lisa’lee’la rejoins the fleet.”

“Well, Meenu does not like it. Be assured, Guvi, that official complaints will be registered.”

“As Meenu wishes.” Guvi smiled and motioned for the guards to come forward.

3: Greater Good

Meledrin drifted silently. Scree was doing enough talking for all of them.

“We was close,” he said for the tenth time as he floated back across the room. “We made the ansible thing, we got through to this universe, we got the kil’ini to come find us. And now Kim and everyone else has to die because the hurgon don’t want to helps.” He grabbed onto one of the room’s tentacles and stared into the nearby eye for a moment as if contemplating blinding it.

Keeble didn’t say anything either.

Meledrin knew that Scree would soon be moving again.

“I should’ve ripped out that Guvi’s throat while I had the chance.” And there he went.

They had not been in the cell for more than five minutes when the door opened again. It was neither Guvi nor its cohorts who floated inside though. Luckily for the newcomer Scree was across the other side of the room and floating free at the time or it might well have died before getting the chance to utter a single word.

“Aunt and Uncle have sent Weri to speak with the hakans,” the hurgon said. It did not complete the Ini Rituals.

Meledrin held up a hand to stop Scree as he crossed towards her. “Wait, Scree, Weri is from the T’loop.” The hurgon cowered back as Scree continued across the room. It held its ground until the last moment before pushing off from the ‘floor’ to find a safe vantage. Scree did not follow when he reached the wall.

“What does Aunt Meenu want?” Meledrin asked.

“Weri is the T’loop Daughter Legat on this kil’ini. The Aunt has sent me to discuss terms away from the ears of the Multicracy.”

“If action is not taken now then all terms will be pointless, because Aunt Kim will be dead.”

“Will the terms not hold for all Meledrin’s family?”

“Meledrin’s family is only on one ship, Weri. An entire family is dying in the other universe.”

“Oh. Cuto said that, but Aunt Meenu and Uncle Leeni did not believe.”

“Hakans are very different to hurgon, Weri.”

“Weri is learning that.”

“There is something else Weri should learn. Current hakans are also very different from those who once attacked Hulgorn. Those people no longer exist.”

“But barely 500 cycles have passed.”

“For us, 500 Hulgorn cycles is a very long time. Hakan civilizations have died and been reborn again since then.”

“But...”

“It is true. Meledrin knew nothing of this war until hurgon attacked. Hakans do not want this war. Hakans want peace with the hurgon.”

“Weri cannot negotiate that. Not even the Aunt can negotiate that. Meledrin must speak with the Multicracy.”

“Then do not negotiate it. Negotiate the rescue of the Hakahei and Aunt Kim will speak with the Mutlticracy later. But Aunt Kim is dying right now. Meledrin’s family is dying.”

Weri nodded. “But if Meledrin’s family is not a trading family, what can be offered the T’loop?”

“All the Hakahei family can offer is its friendship. And pledges that the T’loop will always come first in any dealings with the families, though not with the hurgon as a whole.”

“What is meant?”

“The T’loop can be offered better deals and special consideration, but no action will be taken that will be bad for the hurgon people, just because it is good for the T’loop.”

Weri thought about that then waved its arms crazily. Meledrin followed most of what was being said. She was not supposed to. The two tentacles that Scree had used as an anchor earlier moved quickly in response.

Eventually, the hurgon turned back to Meledrin.

“The Aunt wishes to know who makes the decision on what is good for the hurgon?”

“That would be a matter for...”

“There are situations that hakans cannot understand.”

“Meledrin is not sure.”

“This other one is in charge? Ask.”

Meledrin nodded. “Scree, I have told Weri that we will not agree to do things for the T’loop family, as part of our agreement, if those things are against the hurgon people as a whole. She wishes to know how we will decide what is good or bad for the hurgon people.”

Meledrin was incensed when Scree laughed.

“What is so amusing?”

“How would we knows what is good or bad for the hurgons? All we could do is ask them.”

“I believe there may be immediate issues of concern.”

“You means them military guys on this ship?”

“Correct. I believe the T’loop family is planning some sort of revolt against the military forces.”

“Wells... Just have a bit in the agreement that says we can gets out any time we like if we thinks the greater good of the hurgon has been affected by these T’Loop and the hurgon will be the ones who tells us that.”

Meledrin thought about that. And again she wished she had let Suldon come on this mission. He had been the one who had realized the importance Cuto placed upon trading and taken advantage of it. Meledrin could translate easily, but she could not think in the manner that was needed. She was embarrassed by the fact that Scree knew what needed to be done and she did not. Perhaps that was why Kim had made him second in command.

“I will tell Weri.”

#

According to Weri, there were 54 great hurgon families and 207 minor families living on 15 worlds across 9 solar systems. There were also citadels carved into a score of asteroids. It was over 100 light years from one side of hurgon-controlled space to the other. The closest that any of these places ever came to any of the old hakan worlds was 64 light-years.

Meledrin understood the distance, if only vaguely, and so did not know why the hurgon could not just leave them in peace. That was explained to her as well.

When Hulgorn had been attacked all those years ago the great families had just been starting to emerge. When the hakans had retreated, the Great Families had continued to prosper as the hurgon moved out into space, using their wealth to gain more wealth.

One of the minor families was angered at missing out on this surge and shifted its focus. Instead of trading as the others were, the Fen’dai had turned to mediation. As a supposedly disinterested third party they resolved disputes between the other families. The venture’s success made them vital to the smooth running of the growing civilization. They formed the Multicracy, a council controlled by the Fen’dai. They strengthened their hold by insisting on assigning a political officer, a Cousin, to each family ship. Cousins were supposed to do nothing more than watch and report on any breaches of the council’s laws, but to do this they needed access to all of the families’ records.

The records should have remained confidential, but the Fen’dai made a secret agreement with another minor family and started passing on information. With these two families working together, one from the inside and one from the out, they were able to grow their power immeasurably. In doing so they broke a contract—the worst crime imaginable to a hurgon—but by the time anyone realized, it was too late. The Fen’dai and the Multicracy were the foundation upon which the hurgon civilization stood and it was more trouble than it was worth to change.

But Meledrin understood that at least one family had finally had enough. The T’Loop intended to free themselves of the Fen’dai yoke and once more be true masters of their own affairs.

Meledrin passed on the story to Scree and translated his reply—“This is the truth?”

“Yes. Of course.”

The troll thought for a moment then nodded. Meledrin returned her attention to the hurgon.

“Very well. Uncle Scree agrees to the contract. At this point. But at the first opportunity Uncle Scree and Aunt Kim will consult other families in the specifics of what Weri has told us.”

“Weri does not think—”

“Weri has no choice. The T’loop have no choice,” Meledrin cut in before she realized. She blushed slightly. “Hakans wish to stop this war. For any hakans to be acting in league with a renegade family would be harmful to the cause.”

“The T’loop are fighting against the current laws of the hurgon but the laws do not necessarily reflect popular opinion or the greater good. Who can say if hakan opinion of the greater good coincides with T’loop? The two peoples are very different.”

“Not so different, Weri. Trust will necessarily be reciprocated.”

The hurgon nodded. “Can Weri draw up a contract?”

“Weri can. But neither Meledrin nor Uncle Scree can sign it.”

“But...”

“Your language cannot be read by any hakans at this time, Weri. None will sign a contract that cannot be read or understood.”

“Then what..?”

“Trust.”

Weri did the hurgon equivalent of a nod before quickly leaving the room.

“They is running out of time over there, Meledrin.”

She turned to look at Scree. It seemed that Keeble was on the edge of saying something as well, but he restrained himself.

“I am aware of that, Scree, but this is not an easy process. The T’loop family must start a revolution before they can help us and they need to know that hakans will be on their side when it comes to the fighting.”

“I thought we was trying to stops a war. Kim won’t be happy if you just goes and starts another.”

Meledrin decided that Scree was not truly worried either way. He would fight anyone in order to stay alive. All the hurgon. Half of them. Or the mysterious aliens in the flying mountain. The opponents in the game made no real difference to him.

Aunt Meenu entered, floating slowly through the door as if considering the intricacies of the verbal contract about to be entered.

The hurgon looked up. “How does Meenu know that Meledrin will ensure that commitments are honored?”

“How does Meledrin know that Meenu will honor commitments in return?”

“After Lisa’lee’la has rescued Aunt Kim and the construct, what does Meledrin really care?”

“Meledrin cares greatly. The Hakahei is currently the only hakan construct capable of leaving the ground. Hurgon will soon wipe out all hakans unless the war is stopped. And stopping the war will give hurgon somebody new to trade with. An end to the war is in everyone’s best interest. And if the war ends it is in the best interest of Meledrin’s family to have a head-start in any negotiations.”

“No hurgon has entered into an agreement such as this without several binding contacts—noting every particular—since before Hulgorn was first attacked.”

“This is a very unusual situation, Meenu. But if two families cannot trust, how will entire worlds ever trust? We must start somewhere. Aunt Kim can introduce the T’loop to the leaders of the hakan worlds so contracts can be negotiated with them. There can also be treaties that would strengthen the T’loop position against the Fen’dai.”

“Very well.” But Meenu did not look sure. “Very well.” It waved its arms for the kil’ini to see then floated silently in the air and said no more.

They waited for a long time until the two tentacles on the wall waved a vigorous reply.

“Come. It is time to return to where Meledrin and the Uncle were found.”

“What of the Fen’dai?”

“They have been contained. On a single kil’ini it is a simple thing—the kil’ini has final control of everything after all. But the Fen’dai have kil’ini of their own that agree with the hurgon universe in its current form.”

Meenu pushed towards the door with practiced ease and motioned for the others to follow.

“Come, Scree, Keeble,” Meledrin said, “we are going to rescue our companions.”

“What abouts them soldiers?” Scree asked.

“They are already taken care of.”

“Oh.” His disappointment was obvious.

“Do not fret, I am certain there will be people you can thump at some future juncture.”

Meledrin had trouble moving through the passages. She tried to copy Meenu but could not get the knack. Scree was having no problems at all, and even Keeble was doing well. Meledrin bounced from wall to wall as they moved ‘upwards’ and towards the front of the kil’ini.

“How long until crossing to the other universe is possible?” Meledrin asked as she almost collided with a hurgon waiting in a doorway.

“It will be just a short while until Lisa’lee’la returns to the place where Meledrin was found. The crossing will take place at that time. The kil’ini regained full strength just moments ago.”

“And the Kil’ini will not be harmed in the other universe?”

“Not as long as Lisa’lee’la does not have to remain there for more than a short period.”

“Hurgon do not normally go to the same universe as hakan ships?”

“No. There are more accommodating universes. The one the kil’ini take the hurgon to is full of oxygen. In this way the Kil’ini can avoid the need to find planets that offer sustenance to the hurgon.”

They eventually arrived at the door to what appeared to be the bridge. A dozen hurgon occupied seats at a strange array of consoles that appeared to have grown from the flesh of the kil’ini, even though Cuto said that systems had been added.

“Careful—there is gravity in the room. Come down to the floor.”

Though Meledrin had been warned, she was still surprised when she moved across the threshold and suddenly felt her weight dropped back onto her legs. She stumbled for a moment, only to be held upright by Scree.

“How are they going to do it?” Keeble asked. The dwarf had already wondered past Meenu and was examining a softly glowing screen past a hurgon’s shoulder.

“Meenu, how will the task be accomplished?”

“The kil’ini will enter the other universe, take the construct into the same chamber as the minor construct was taken, then return here. A few minutes only, though a wait will be required while the poisoned air is expelled.”

Scree asked to be taken to the chamber as soon as he heard the translation and was out the door before anyone could say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Meledrin watched as Cuto, unobserved until then, hurried to follow the troll. Scree did not need to be shown the way, though he may not have known the best way, but an escort was needed in any case.

“How many kil’ini fly with the hurgon, Meenu?”

“Thousands. And there are more all the time. It takes much time for a kil’ini to reach maturity but then each lives for many hurgon generations.

“Do all kil’ini fly with hurgon? Or do some choose not to?”

“Some remain separate, but often will talk when contact is made, giving news from all parts of the galaxy.”

Meledrin watched on a large screen as the starscape disappeared to be replaced by swirling mist. There was no gate. Nothing seemed to change, and yet one moment they were in one universe, and the next in another. The hakans may have been more technically advanced but, to Meledrin, it seemed that the combination of hurgon and kil’ini was limited only by their dreams.

“The Hakahei is not present,” Meenu said.

Meledrin thought of the multeese ship and the turbulence that had eventually drawn the Lander through the Ohoga Gate. “The construct may have moved slightly,” she replied. Slightly? She had no idea how far it might have moved. Or in which direction. Between them, Scree and Keeble might have been able to deduce something but...

“Lisa’lee’la has found the construct. It will be a few minutes more.”

4: Until We Know

Tuki was starting to drift off to sleep. He had done nothing for so long and yet was so exhausted he could hardly move.

A clatter disturbed him and he roused himself to look around. He was sitting in one of the moai sized chairs facing the stage on Level 2. Dwarves and trolls were all around him—on the floor and slumped in chairs. Most of the elves had taken up positions near the front of the stage. They sat like they lived, quiet and proper.

“Everybody up.” Tuki looked around again and saw Captain Thorpe standing near the stairs. The soldier slapped his hand against the wall as if his voice was not loud enough on its own. “Everybody up. Time to move again.”

Tuki grunted. He did not want to move. They had already gone from Level 2 to the garden, to the hold and back to Level 2. The dwarves and Ping seemed to think it would help somehow—something to do with the filters—but it all just seemed like a waste of time.

“Move it.” Captain Thorpe moved around the room, nudging people, trying to get them moving.

Tuki stayed where he was. Captain Thorpe had no authority. Kim was in charge on the ship and unless—

Kim came out of a cabin and looked around. “Come on people, you heard the man. Let’s move.” She sounded no more enthusiastic than Tuki felt, but she was on her feet and moving.

Tuki sighed out a bitter, biting breath and pushed himself to his feet. His legs and arms felt leaden. His head spun.

Kim walked past close by and had a small smile for him. “How are you feeling?”

“Not very well. I just want to sleep.”

“You can do it down stairs. Not here. Go on.”

But he stayed where he was and looked around. He listened as Kim and Captain Thorpe spoke.

“How are we doing?” Kim asked.

“Not good.” The soldier was starting to look ragged. “Ping and her crew say that—judging on the last couple of efforts and the deterioration of the air quality—this is it.”

“Shit. What did we get out of the Garden last time? Four hours?”

“Yes.”

“And three hours up here?”

“A little less, I think.”

“So an hour then?”

“That’s what Ping said. Topper and Drago say less.” The Captain turned to look at the room’s inhabitants again. “Everybody up,” he shouted. “I want everyone down in the garden in five minutes. Move it.” The trolls started to rouse. “Flint, Stone, lets get them moving.”

“It there any point?”

Kim answered him. “We won’t know that until we know.”

“What about the breathers?”

“They’re in the garden. There aren’t enough of them for everyone and most are at least half empty.”

Tuki made his way to the stairs behind a trollop and a pair of staggering dwarves and started down. Halfway down a dwife gripped his arm.

“Thank you, Tuki.”

It was Kesi. She moved so slowly that Tuki wondered if they would ever make it down to the garden.

“I thought you were supporting me,” Tuki said.

The dwife smiled up at him and patted his hand. She had seemed old and worn beyond her years when Tuki had first seen her. She had improved somewhat in the company of Ping and the trollops, seeming to come to life, but now she was more pale and shrunken than ever. Tuki wondered if he was shrinking too. Would he be the size of a dwarf by the time they reached the garden.

Okalani and Aka’mu were behind them, staggering and stumbling downwards.

“Heaven is not like I expected, Tuki,” Okalani said quietly into the wheezing, thick-tongued silence. The look on her face was as bitter as the air.

“It is exactly as Kim said it would be, Okalani,” Aka’mu replied. “We were given the chance to look into our hearts.”

Perhaps they had, but Tuki wanted to keep looking for a good while longer yet. “We are not dead yet,” Tuki said, though the defiance sounded weak, even to him.

The trollop leading the way looked back over the heads of the dwarves. The lantern she was carrying swung crazily above her, making the shadows dance on floor and walls. Her name was Ruby and she was only a couple of years older than Tuki, though the experience written in her sharp blue eyes suggested otherwise. Her shoulder length red hair, tied in two pigtails, was molten in the shifting light. “We ain’t dead, are we, Tuki-boy? Scree’s a stubborn bugger and that Keeble’s even worse.” She ran her fingers along the wall to keep her balance as she continued to descend. “Scree won’t let us die ‘cause that means he lost the game. He don’t like losing. And Keeble won’t let us die ‘cause that means there was something he couldn’t fix.”

“But maybe it cannot be fixed,” Okalani said.

“Bet it can,” Ruby smiled. “I bet all the gold I got that we’ll live through this.”

“But I have no gold.”

Ruby shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t intend to pay if I lose either.”

It took a moment for Tuki to work through that in his mind and the realization must have shown on his face. Ruby winked, smiled some more and stopped to open the door that led out of the stairwell and onto Level 4. Tuki smiled himself and held Kesi’s hand.

In the workshop on Level 4, Topper was stopping people. He held a lamp above his head as well. It showed his haggard face and bleary eyes—he seemed to have aged even more than Kesi. “Every time we open the door we’re going to let air out,” he said softly. “So we want to open it as little as possible. We’ll wait until everyone’s here, then move through quickly. All right?”

Tuki did not have the energy to argue, though he doubted ‘quickly’ would be an option. He nodded and leant against the wall. Ruby had taken up a similar position nearby.

“Do you really think we will live, Ruby?” Tuki asked quietly. He did not know if anyone else was listening, but he was beyond caring what others wanted to hear.

Ruby nodded. “Yeah. There’s no point believing otherwise.”

“But they have been gone so long.”

“Did you expect them to get back in five minutes?”

Tuki shook his head.

“Did you expect them to get back in an hour?”

He shook his head again.

“Didn’t expect them to get back quick at all?”

“No.”

“Then why is you surprised they’re taking so long?”

“But we are running out of time.”

Sandy, sitting on the floor nearby, dark skin almost blending with the shadows, gave a short bark of laughter. She shook her head and the colored beads plaited into her hair rattled. “Runnin’ out of time is a way of life with trolls, Tuki. Just means you ain’t runnin’ quick enough, or you’re runnin’ in the wrong direction.”

“Or maybe you aren’t supposed to be runnin’ at all,” Ruby said. “Maybe you’re supposed to stand and fight.”

“I don’t have the energy to fight,” Tuki said.

Ruby shrugged. “You don’t have to. Scree and Keeble is doing it for us.”

Tuki had the energy for another slight smile. “You don’t think Meledrin will fight?”

Both of the trollops laughed for a moment. “The elf’ll fight in her own way,” Sandy said through a clatter of still-swinging beads. She leaned back against the wall and stretched her legs out in front. “Scree and Keeble’ll kick and bite and scratch and swear all the way to the end. Mel’ll try to talk the universe into seein’ things her way.”

“And be mighty pissed off when she don’t do no good.”

Tuki nodded. Each breath was a struggle. Each blink seemed to take a lifetime.

The room was continuing to fill with people. The walking dead gathering for one last gasp of air.

“Why are you here?” Tuki asked when the silence stretched on.

“‘Cause Kim said—”

“No,” he held up a hand to stop Sandy from going any further. “Why didn’t you stay on Kiva and… thump people and... whatever? Why do you do what Kim says?”

The trollop gave the question some thought. “Trolls has always been about doin’ what’s best for trolls, Tuki. On Kiva, durin’ the last few years, that meant findin’ a good pack that was runnin’ in your direction...” She obviously wanted to say more, but was not sure what.

Ruby took up the explanation. “But maybe trolls on their own is never going to be a good pack. And maybe, down there, we could never run in the right direction. And we could never run quick enough.” She sighed. “Ever feel like you’re running but ain’t getting anywhere?”

Tuki thought of his own life on Kiva, in a village where his only goals had been to get married to Keala and to see her smile. “Yes,” he said.

Ruby nodded and touched Tuki’s hand for a moment. “Well, now we’re all running to somewhere, Tuki, and even if we ain’t going to get there, we’re still making progress.”

It was a while before Kim came down the stairs and, with Shardy’s help, turned the wheel that closed the big airlock door. Several elves had already fallen asleep and it took a while to rouse them. Even in their exhaustion, dwarves volunteered to kick them until they woke, but Suldon and Penisari shook them and called their names until they were all on their feet.

When everyone was ready one of the trolls, Crystal, opened the door into the garden and everyone went through as quick as they were able. The door slid slowly shut behind them.

Tuki wondered if it was all really worth it. What chance was there that every little crazy part of their completely crazy plan would work? The odds were... He tried to work out what the odds might be as he stood at the top of the cliff in the garden and looked out the huge windows at the sickening puce mist. He could not think properly, though his head no longer spun quite like it had.

Kesi sat down where she was and laid back in the dust. For a moment Tuki was worried for her, but she was breathing steadily and color seemed to be returning to her face. She smiled at Tuki. He nodded back. But he did not sit down with her. Instead, he moved along the edge of the cliff until he came to the stairs, then made his way down into the main area of the garden.

He was pleased to see that the Hakahei had stopped spinning. The wild tumbling had made him ill last time they’d been in the garden. He felt bad enough as it was without adding that to his misery.

He wandered aimlessly for a while, kicking up dust with his big feet, and trying to ignore the window. He imagined he was in the desert on Kiva again and cursing the day he had seen the kil’ini in the sky and thought it was a shooting star. That event had started his adventure, sending him off to places he had never imagined.

But kicking up dust and making it harder to breathe was not going to help anyone. With a sigh, he sat down near the tunnel that led through to the other half of the garden. With his back against the cliff, he could look out the windows at the universe and wish for some stars to guide him home.

Not far away, half covered in dust, was a small glass plate. It was well made and covered in an engraved leaf pattern. He wondered how long it had been sitting there, unnoticed. For a moment he thought of leaving it there, sleeping in the dust like he would surely be soon enough. But he reached out and picked up the plate. For a while he turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over the leaves, then he sent his mind into the glass searching its depths for any stories that had been trapped within its multitude of prisms.

He leaned back and smiled as the plate told him of the garden. There were trees and flowers and grass. There was a waterfall tumbling down one of the cliffs into a small rock pool. There was an elf pruning a tree. Here was a dwarf digging a hole for a new plant. And up on top of the cliff, others were resting or talking quietly. And outside the windows there was starlight. A thousand stars shining in the blackness of space.

Tuki reluctantly pulled his mind away from the glass lest he decide to stay there forever. His friends were in the real world, and he would sit with them in the dust. So he held the plate in his hands, feeling it, while he stared out the window longing for starlight. He was once again disturbed by a clatter and watched, surprised, as a panel hinged away from the wall close by and revealed Ping’s face. The little woman smiled slightly.

“This is it,” she said, looking behind her. She crawled out into the open, rose to her feet and dusted off her clothing—as if she was not going to be sitting in the dirt with everyone else very soon. She looked exhausted, as did the eight dwarves who emerged behind her.

One of the dwarves grumbled, as dwarves were want to do. “I think it would’ve been quicker to go by the stairs.

“Probably,” Ping replied, “but it wouldn’t have been as much fun.” She did not look like she had been having fun at all. “Hello, Tuki.”

“Hello, Ping. So, there is no more air?”

She shrugged. “We may be able to get some more, but... I don’t know. That is for Kim to decided, I suppose. It gets harder to do the work every time and the results are not as good.” Ping picked up one of the breathing masks and little air bottles that were lying in the dust nearby. Tuki had not even noticed it. “There are these as well.”

Tuki nodded. “If the Goddess is watching, She will help us.” But could Poti watch from a different universe?

The dwarves that emerged from the access passage stayed in a group, as if the experience of working together over the last few hours had formed a bond between them. Even the dwives sat down in the dust. They were the only ones who looked like they were enjoying the conversation, but Tuki could imagine how he would have felt to be thought of as equal amongst the women of Danyon Ford.

He watched as they nervously took part in the talk, as if expecting to be rebuked for just speaking. It seemed the male dwarves were surprised themselves when the rebuke was not offered. Other dwarves were watching from nearby, the women in jealousy, the men angrily. But none interfered.

“My mind keeps drifting,” Ping said in a lull in the conversation. “How about a Song from the Singers?”

“I only became a Singer the day before the monsters—the aliens—came,” Topper said, as if that was a reason for him not to Sing.

“Sing for us. The times I have heard Keeble it seems to clear away the cobwebs.”

Topper nodded slightly, then started to Sing his Song. To Tuki it just sounded like a lot of strange sounds put together. As it built, though, he could feel the power of it. He could feel it washing through him and around him.

He laid his head back against the wall. He no longer felt like sleeping but was relaxed and calm. He took a bottle of water when Inaki offered it, had a sip then passed it on to a Ping.

After a while, a second dwarf joined his voice to Topper’s. The Songs they Sang were completely different, but still the two of them merged together perfectly and floated like fairy-dust in the garden.

Time seemed to stop, but this time it was not a bad thing. Tuki looked around at everyone. People sat talking quietly as the Song calmed them and a stillness descended. They were resigned to what was happening, hoping still for life, but prepared if things were otherwise. Even the trolls waited to see what would happen. It was only when he looked back to Ping and her work-crew that he saw anything different.

Topper and Drago were still singing, sitting back with their eyes closed and smiling slightly. Tasko was Singing as well. He had risen to his feet and was tracing patterns on the wall of the ship.

“I can feel it,” the dwarf said around his Song. “I can feel the wall. And it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

Ping stood and went closer. Others were turning to look, a moment of interest in the still garden. So they all saw when Tasko took a scoop out of the wall with his hand and held it up in the pale light. He smiled around his Song.

Ping was gaping. “But Keeble said...”

Tuki might have gaped as well, but he was really not surprised by anything any more.

Tasko smiled some more. “As soon as I started to Sing, I could feel it.” He was carefully putting the piece of wall back in place, smoothing down the edges. Soon it was indistinguishable from the rest.

Topper was shaking his head, setting his long, narrow beard to waggling. “I still feel nothing,” he said, still Singing. He rose to his feet and touched the wall.

“Well... I don’t know,” Ping said, now apparently thinking she had to come up with all the ideas.

Tess wanted to prove otherwise. “Perhaps it is to do with safety,” the dwife said. “Perhaps they do not want just one person to be able to make changes to the hull.”

“So...” Topper was still feeling the wall, making indentations with his fingers then smoothing them out. “They make sure you need three Singers to effect the hull so nobody can scuttle the ship?”

Tess shrugged, suddenly unsure. “Maybe.”

Ping was scratching her head. Tuki watched it all disinterestedly. What would it matter if they could not get back to their own universe?

“Everyone stop Singing,” Ping said. “Then Drago and Tasko start first. Topper, you last.”

They did as they were told, and it was not long before Topper’s hand had disappeared into the hull. His was a Song of Being, the same as Keeble’s.

“What if we are in a battle and the hull is damaged?” Tuki asked. “What if we only have two Singers left alive?”

“Well...” Ping said.

But Topper was nodding. “And to repair a split, like the one I understand is down stairs, would take a long time with only a Song of Doing. We would have to dig everything out all the way to the outer surface, and then build it back again—with someone on the outside, for the first bit at least. With both Songs available, we could merely mold the insubstantial stone to fill the crack.”

But Tuki really could not understand any of that. He sat with his back against the cliff and looked out at the swirling mist. Only... There was something else out there.

He squinted, as if that might make a difference. He rose to his feet.

The rough green shape of a kil’ini was floating about a kilometer away. It was upside down—or the Hakahei was—and its tail was towards the ship, but it was slowly turning to face them. Tuki pointed but others were already turning to follow his gaze. The quiet babble of conversation rose sharply.

Tuki smiled and drew in a deep breath without worrying about the consequences.

“Why did we ever doubt?” he said to nobody in particular. Like Ruby said, if there was a way to live then, between them, Scree and Keeble would find it. Tuki looked for Ruby in the crowd and smiled at her before turning to watch as the kil’ini came closer. A huge mouth opened on the front, gaping wider by the moment. The creature swallowed the ship like a child swallowing a grape.

Tuki sat down and cried.

5: Rescue

Kim watched from the upper level of the garden as the alien creature came closer. It had four large eyes, each on a stalk as long as the Hakahei was tall. Each moved independently of the others, twisting this way and that like the long feelers that writhed in the swirling mist. Kim had never seen anything so beautiful.

She was surprised when the creature started to open what appeared to be a mouth, with the obvious intention of swallowing them. But if that was what was going to work best, she really didn’t care. And if it actually intended to eat them... Well, she didn’t particularly care about that either. Dead was dead, after all.

After staring and smiling like an idiot while the kil’ini approached, mouth ever wider, Kim burst into motion. She raced along the wall, gasping for breath, pushing past people, until she came to the small airlock that gave access to the hangar. Once there, she had to wait. She gripped the wheel that would open the door. She fidgeted. She chewed on her bottom lip. She looked around to share her excitement with her companions. She fidgeted some more.

Outside, the kil’ini was upon them and merely continued to sail forward. It swallowed them whole, without slowing. Kim found herself dividing her glance between the view of the hangar and the view of the interior of the creature’s mouth. Neither seemed to change for a long time.

Finally, she saw movement and almost cheered when she saw the unmistakable figure of Scree hanging onto a rough green wall, obviously in zero gravity, a few meters from the open hangar door. After a moment, he pushed off and sailed for the Hakahei. Crossing the threshold, the ship’s artificial gravity, still leaking slowly from the floor, plucked him out of the air. He landed in a messy heap, so un-troll-like. Kim gasped, but he was quickly on his feet.

She started to open the door, felt the muscles in her arm tense to turn the wheel to break the seal, but Scree was wearing a breather. She resisted.

“Don’t open the door,” she shouted hoping that someone around the other side of the garden could hear her. They didn’t want to release their hard won oxygen until someone told them it was safe. They didn’t want to die this close to salvation. They didn’t want to die.

Kim pounded on the small glass window, trying to get Scree’s attention. He didn’t see and strode to the larger airlock that would give him access to the stairwell. Or perhaps to the workshop and the door on the other side of the garden.

“Don’t open this door,” Kim repeated to those grouped behind her. She pushed her way through the crowd, back the way she’d come. There was a large area with nobody in it. Everyone was packed around the doors like people trying to get into a concert.

The eastern door was still closed. Kim made her way slowly through the packed people, sidling through, and found Chasm and Thorpe at the front. Words had obviously been exchanged for some members of the waiting crowd, mainly dwarves, were glowering at the two of them.

“What’s going on?” Thorpe asked.

“Scree was wearing a breather. It’s a huge chamber the Hakahei’s in, so it must take them a while to purge the bad air and get oxygen in here. Or something.” She pushed between the two of them and put her face up against the glass of the window. “You didn’t see him?”

“No.”

It seemed a lifetime before the troll returned. When he did come into view, his breather and mask had been removed. They’d been replaced by a worried expression. Kim started to work at the wheel to open the door. Chasm took over and Kim used her own hands for waving and pounding on the window instead. Scree saw her and the relief on his face was obvious. He raced to the door and started to help get it open. He was grinning like a schoolboy with a new bike and Kim knew how he felt. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life.

Before the door was all the way open Kim slipped through and threw herself at him. He caught her but didn’t seem to know what to do after that. Kim supposed he might not be used to the idea of people being happy to see him but she didn’t care. She held him and laughed and cried all at the same time.

Eventually she decided that it might not be a good idea for the Captain to been seen hugging the leader of the marines and crying on his shoulder. She loosened her grip and felt herself lowered to the floor.

“Hello, Scree,” she said, wiping at her eyes and trying to get control of herself. Well, she was the Captain, she could sniffle like a girl if she wanted. “It’s good to see you again.”

The big man nodded, looking slightly bemused. “Yeah. I kinda worked thats out. Hows we doing?”

Kim looked back through the door at the people crowding there. “We’re doing good. We’re all doing good.”

Scree smiled again. “Huh.”

“So when do we go back to the other universe?” Kim wiped her eyes again. “How long do we have to wait?”

“Probably already there. Don’t have to waits at all and you doesn’t know when you goes through.”

People finally started to come through the door, pushing past Kim and Scree and taking in deep breaths. The air wasn’t great, but it was better than they’d tasted for quite a while.

Ceiling lights started to glow softly. Somewhere, a fan started to hum.

“So what did you have to sell to get us out?”

“Nothing yet, but it ain’t that simple, anyways.”

“Ummm... What?”

“The hurgon are havings a few problems themselves, from the little bit that Meledrin told me. Theys kinda started a rebellion on this kil’ini.”

Kim groaned. Surely things were confused enough as they were without getting factional fighting involved as well. She took a deep breath. “So are we sure these are the good guys?”

“Ask Mel, but I don’ know if she knows for sure. How could she?”

“Right. I supposed we’d better go see what the hell’s going on.” Taking a deep breath, Kim wiped at her face again and smoothed at her hair. “How do I look?”

Scree looked slightly confused by the question and shrugged. “You looks great.”

“Yeah, right. I probably looked like I’ve just gotten out of bed.” But maybe that’s how he likes his women to look.

Clearing her throat and blushing, Kim moved past Scree and headed for the airlock. Out in the hangar, a small group of ‘people’ waited near the main door. Meledrin stood at the front. Keeble was on one side, grinning crookedly, a hurgon was on the other. Cuto was among a group of 5 standing behind. After an apparent moment of indecision, Keeble hurried across the hangar to join Kim.

“Hello, Kim. Good to see we weren’t late. We were starting to worry.”

Kim smiled slightly. “I’d gone past worry, Keeble. You did a great job. Everyone did.”

Kim took a deep breath and turned back to the aliens—the first official contact. She looked behind. “Scree, Ping, Keeble, come with me. Stone, don’t do anything threatening, but make it obvious you and the other trolls are guards who can do harm if needed.” She thought that was it but changed her mind. “Captain Thorpe, I suppose you should come as well. In fact, do you want to run things?” She really wanted somebody else to take over. She couldn’t think. She needed to sleep. Proper sleep.

“No, Kim, neither of us can speak for Earth. So you just speak for yourself. I will come along though.”

“Bastard,” Kim said.

The Captain smiled. “Why don’t you ask for a chance to rest and consult with Meledrin before you do anything.”

“Do we have time? This war is still going on. People are dying. And those other bastards are out there somewhere looking for someone to squash.”

“So why don’t you see if you can get a lift to Nexis? That’s where you want to go, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where human officials can be found, right?”

“If you want the USA doing the talking.”

“They’re as good as anyone else.”

“Well, yes, if we have to choose one. I’d rather we had the United Nations or something.”

“You want the UN to organize something? I thought you were in a hurry. And the only interpreters are right here anyway.”

Kim nodded. “Right.”

“Right. So ask for a lift to Nexis and have a rest. Talk to Meledrin and see what she can tell you. We don’t have a lot of time, but there’s no need to rush the most important event in recorded human history.”

Kim took a deep breath. “Right.”

Stone had already started to organize the guards. A pair of trolls were on either side of the small hurgon gathering, right back at the wall. Another five were standing in a row near Kim. The hurgon were looking nervous, but their escape route had not been blocked.

The official party fell into step behind Kim as she crossed the hangar.

“Aunt Meenu, of the T’loop family, and kil’ini Lisa’lee’la send greetings,” Meledrin translated almost before Kim had come to a halt.

“Greetings back,” Kim said, hoping Meledrin did not translate literally. “And we thank everyone for rescuing us.”

Kim watched as the hurgon waved its hands around a bit and spoke rapidly in reply.

“Aunt Meenu accepts your thanks, but asks why warriors have been stationed in the hangar.”

Kim looked at Stone and the rest of the trolls. “We’re just making sure this is a rescue and not a capture and making it clear that if it’s actually the latter then this is still our ship and we won’t give it up easily.”

“They rescued you, Kim. I was—”

“Humans can lie, Mel, perhaps hurgon can too. Don’t add a commentary, just translate. Though you don’t have to do it word for word.”

Meledrin sniffed. “Very well.” And she spoke to the hurgon.

“Aunt Meenu respects your right to protect your vessel, but says that no warrior will be allowed outside.”

“Tell Aunt Meenu that at this stage we’d all prefer to stay on the ship.” Kim had thought of Cuto as male, but she could see no different between Cuto and this Aunt. Though perhaps Meledrin had some trouble with the translating and ‘Aunt’ was the closest she could come up with. Though Suldon had used the word ‘Daughter’ earlier as if it was a title. She decided it didn’t matter, as long as all the elves translated things in the same way.

“Aunt Meenu asks, ‘If that is the case, what will Aunt Kim be doing?’“

“If Meenu wishes to stop the war between hakans and hurgon then the quickest way to get that process in motion would be for the kil’ini to take us to Nexis where we can all start talking with the Americans.”

“Aunt Meenu says that they can go to Nexis, but what will happen after arrival is not certain. This kil’ini has been assigned to watch Sherindel, so if it is seen to be somewhere else, the Fen’dai officers assigned to Lisa’lee’la will be asked by their family to explain.”

“And that means what, exactly?”

“The Fen’dai family members currently on this ship are being held captive.”

“Right. What?” She thought about it for a moment. “This ship is owned by the T’loop family, right? So who are the Fen’dai?”

“This kil’ini is working with the T’loop family, correct. The Fen’dai are members of another family who travel with all other families to keep track of their dealing and act as mediators in all disputes.”

“Right. So...” But it could take all day to work it out and that shouldn’t be done standing in the hangar. “Look, tell Auntie Meenu—”

“Aunt Meenu.”

“Whatever. Tell Meenu we can’t make guarantees. I recommend we either go to Nexis or Earth—with Nexis being the preference—because we can’t do anything stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Meledrin talked with the hurgon for a long time and Kim started to wonder if they were getting anywhere. Eventually the elf turned to speak with Kim again. “Aunt Meenu says that Lisa’lee’la shall go to Nexis. It tried to explain how long that would take, but I believe we may need Tuki’s skills to do the arithmetic. In the mean time, Lisa’lee’la will send a coded ansible message to other T’loop kil’ini around Nexis to appraise them of the situation. The T’loop family members there will be able to work out a course of action before we arrive.”

Kim wasn’t sure she liked that all that much—letting the aliens come up with a plan in a situation she knew nothing about—but it was obvious she had no choice.

“Thank Auntie Meenu for her trouble and tell her that we would be pleased if she would come back... later... to discuss matters further. But for now we need to rest and try to work out what the hell’s going on.” Kim smiled wanly. She needed sleep but didn’t think she’d be getting any in the near future.

6: Repairs

Keeble sat alone and chewed the dry, tasteless food. It was horrible stuff and didn’t get any better with familiarity. What he really wanted was some coffee. Just the smell of a good strong mug would have made him feel better. He sighed and took a sip of water.

When he looked up he noticed Topper, Drago and a small group of dwarves sitting at another table. They seemed to have formed some sort of bond while he was off saving them all with Scree and Meledrin. They were staring at him. Keeble stared back. They weren’t eating and hadn’t been for some time.

Eventually, after a hushed discussion, Topper rose to his feet and crossed the mess. The young Singer stood across from Keeble for a long time, not saying anything, tugging at his chin-beard.

Keeble crunched through some more food and washed it down with a sip of water. “What is it?” he asked, tired of waiting.

“We know how to fix the hull,” Topper said. He looked back over his shoulder, as if wondering if that was what his companions had really wanted him to say.

Keeble stared at him. “What do you mean you know how to fix the hull?”

Topper stood and tugged on his beard until Keeble was ready to grab him and shake the answer out.

“When you said the hull was stone,” Topper said, “we didn’t believe you. Now we do. We can feel it.”

“Who felt it? When?”

“The third Singer can feel it.”

“What?”

Topper beckoned for him to follow. Keeble pushed back his chair so hard it clattered onto its back. Okalani and Aka’mu looked up from another table. A small group of trolls didn’t stir from their conversation.

As they walked out into the ship-circling passage, Topper started to Sing his Song. Tasko started as well. Keeble watched suspiciously.

“Sing, Keeble,” Topper said.

Still suspicious, Keeble started his Song. And almost immediately, everything else was forgotten. He could feel the stone of the wall and it was like nothing he’d ever felt. The patterns of its structure were so tightly woven they were almost non-existent.

He laughed. “Of course. It just takes more power.” It was obvious, really. He sank his good hand into the wall up to the elbow.

“Do you want to fix the hole now?” Topper asked around his Song.

“You want my help?” Keeble looked from Topper to Tasko and back again. “There are other Singers. You could ask them.”

Tasko nodded. “We could but...”

“They never offered to help before, when you were gone,” Drago said. “They sat up here and did nothing while we worked to keep everyone alive.”

Topper nodded as well. “A Wanderer who works is worth more than them any day.”

Keeble smiled. “Well, let’s go and fix the hull then. Can’t leave it as it is.”

“Right,” Topper said. “And then we can fix the air recycler as well.”

“What’s wrong with it?” The air recycler had been fine when he left.

“We had to pull it apart to make a manual filter.”

“That was a good idea. Who thought of that?”

Tasko cleared his throat and looked from one of his companions to the other. “Ping came up with the idea. One of us would have thought of it eventually.”

Keeble grunted. “Did it make any difference?”

Drago shook his head while Tasko said, “I don’t really think so.”

But Topper waited till they were all done. “We would be dead now if it hadn’t worked,” he said. “And the dwives came up with a few good ideas for the filter.” He seemed reluctant to say that, even after his praise of a moment before. “Well, a couple of ideas.”

“You let them help you with something that important?”

“Ping made me. And, you know, they... They came up with some good ideas.”

Tasko nodded. “She did make him.”

Keeble shook his head. He’d been forced to accept Ping’s strange ways, but had been hoping the extra dwarves would help cure her of those—she should not be allowed to fix things. But he went away for a couple of hours and she showed them she could be useful.

“Well come on,” Keeble said, “let’s go fix the hole before Ping comes up with a plan for it.” They didn’t need any equipment. The four of them could fix the hole without much trouble at all.

Keeble went down to the Level 8 access panel then he started crawling through the ducts with the others close behind.

In the tank, Keeble showed them the circular section of boilerplate glued to the wall.

“Very shoddy job,” Drago said, shaking his head in disgust.

Keeble cleared his throat and wound the gears on his hand.

“You did this?” It looked as if Tasko was having second thoughts about working with a Wanderer.

“I didn’t have a lot of time or equipment,” Keeble said defensively. “There was only me and Cuto, remember.”

Drago shook his head again. “Let’s get this done then. And the sooner the better.”

Topper and Drago Sang the foundation of the enterprise while Keeble combined his Song of Being to Tasko’s Song of Doing. As soon as they focused the magic onto the wall, the boilerplate clattered to the floor. Together, the four dwarves walked into the misty stone to start filling the gap.

With the four songs echoing around in the empty fuel tank, they were able to work at the mist, shifting it here and there quite easily.

They hardly spoke, working as a team, concentrating on the work. Keeble almost felt he was back at home again, working on the passage from Tab Cavern to Goolar’s Well. Or building a vent duct between rooms. Or...

But he shook his head as he smoothed over the last of the joins. “It never felt like this,” he said.

“What?”

Keeble stepped away from the wall and examined the work. He smiled and nodded, running mental fingers along the mist, testing the depths for any weakness. When he found no problems he called the others away from the wall and let his Song drift away to nothing. Topper and Tasko stopped Singing as well, falling silent after just a couple of notes. Drago started to wind his Song down slowly, removing first one layer than the next.

“You realize all the work we used to do at Tab Cavern never really had a purpose?” Keeble continued to look at the hull as he listened to the remains of Drago’s Song.

“Of course it had a purpose,” Topper said.

“The population wasn’t really growing, so we didn’t need all those extra rooms. The Goolar’s Well passage was going to cut five minutes off the journey, but who ever went to the well anyway?”

“Yes but...”

“How long had Ferdan been working on his flying machine?”

Tasko shrugged as he bent to pick up the useless piece of boilerplate. “Ten years,” he said. “I worked with him for a while.”

“Who was going to fly it?” Keeble asked. “Where were they going to fly?” Dwarves rarely left the city beneath the mountain. They traded with the humans—goods for food, but otherwise most stayed in the caves and kept to themselves.

“That doesn’t mean the flying machine was pointless. Just the knowledge is worth having.”

“On its own it isn’t, Tasko. Not on its own.”

Nobody replied to that. They stood listening as Drago finally let the last notes of his Song fall away.

“What will women ever know,” he said, “until they can feel that?”

Tasko nodded, but Keeble was not so sure. Perhaps knowing a Song was like knowing anything. It was not the knowing that really mattered at all. It was what you did with the knowledge. Dwarves had their Song’s but where did that get them? In Tab Cavern in recent years they’d started going around in circles. They’d reached the extremities of the solid rock so most new passages inevitably started to curve back on themselves. They’d run out of mountain but didn’t think to step out under the sky and see if there were other mountains to be found. There were other dwarvish cities on Sherindel, but Tab Cavern had lost contact with most of them a long time ago.

Kim had more power than could be found in a Song, he decided. He cursed her every decision and called her a fool of a woman, even as he was doing as she asked. Scree had power. He had survived a hard life through his own wit and strength. They both did what they did on their own, without the assistance of ‘magic’. And people were willing to follow them because of the way they spoke and the way they looked you in the eye.

With a grunt, Keeble turned and started heading for the hatch. “How about we go and have a look at those clocks. Bet Ping has not got them fixed yet.”

#

Keeble cursed as he entered the engineering bay. Ping was looking at a computer. Ari and Dosa were looking over her shoulder as if they could read.

“What is that word?” Ari asked of the other woman, before realizing that Keeble was there. She blushed.

Ping, concentrating on the screen, didn’t know the dwarves had entered. “‘Calculations’,” she said. “If we didn’t have the computer, we would need Tuki to work it out though.” She worked at the keyboard, biting her lip in concentration.

Keeble cleared his throat.

“Keeble. Ummm... Hi.” Ping gave a tight smile.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Keeble said, though he knew there were several legitimate ways she could argue about that. The dwives though... what excuse did they have? “What are you doing?”

“We’re trying to work out how to fix the clocks.” She pushed hair away from her face and quickly looked back at the screen. Ari did as well, avoiding his gaze. Dosa was sidling slowly towards the door.

“It’s about time. How is Tuki supposed to do his job properly if the clocks aren’t working?” That was not quite fair either but Ping and Ari both blushed.

“Well... Dosa thought... We think it might be a missing tooth on the second actuator cog.”

Keeble turned his gaze upon the dwife and she stopped moving. All the dwarves were looking at her. “Dosa thought that? Why?”

Ping didn’t reply. Keeble could see how she was manipulating everyone. Perhaps she wasn’t doing it consciously, but it was happening. She was letting the dwives show that they were capable of making a contribution. She was forcing them to speak and be heard.

Keeble wanted to stop that happening, but by the time he thought of something to say it was too late.

Dosa started to explain her deduction. “The two clocks keep up perfectly for almost one full revolution of the actuator. I didn’t know what it was called...” She was hardly audible. “But then the high one seems to pause for just a second, as if a tooth is missing, before tension and friction finally push it on.”

“A second?” Drago asked.

Dosa looked to Ping, then answered again. “Yes, but with one of those seconds each revolution—each minute—it soon adds up.”

Topper was nodding. “It’s only a guess at the moment though, right? We’d have to look to be sure.”

Keeble cursed him silently.

Ping nodded. “We’ll need your help.”

Keeble cursed Ping as well. Join the two groups together and let the men feel they are the experts and that the women are just trying to learn.

“Well, let’s look then,” Topper said. He looked from Keeble to Ping and back again.

“Why don’t you look,” Keeble said.

Topper nodded slowly. “All right then. Dosa and Tasko can help.”

Keeble was about to say no but gave a curt nod instead. It was possible the dwife was right after all, and the sooner the problem was found and fixed the better. “I’ll stay here with Ping and see if we can find anything else.”

“Where’s the best access for the high clock?”

“I know,” Dosa said, before suddenly looking nervous again. “Ummm... I know the way.”

Keeble grunted and watched as the three of them left. He muttered to himself, cutting off when Ping turned to look in his direction. “What else can we look for?” he asked, trying to appear as if he knew what he was looking at.

Ping shrugged slightly. “I’m not sure. I’ve not gone into the system very far yet. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand.”

“I thought you were the expert.”

“I am but... We didn’t have clocks this advanced on Tiandi. With the clock in Elephant Tower I could stand back and see all the parts and just know how things worked. But here...” She sighed. “There are so many little pieces and lots of them do things I don’t understand.”

“Right. So you’re moving deeper into the system? Part by part?”

“Yes. But it’s hard to see anything a part at a time. And hard with the whole thing at once.”

“There’s probably a way to see different sized sections of the clock.” Keeble nudged her off the chair. “Here, let me look.” He had it worked out in no time and turned to look at Ping.

“Right.” She was nodding slowly. “I thought there might be something like that but...”

Rising to his feet, Keeble cursed himself. He’d fallen for the very trick he’d noted Ping using earlier. He was acting like she was a trainee, explaining things to her, feeling important and knowledgeable. In itself, being seen as superior to any of the women wasn’t a bad thing, but he was teaching her, which would never have been allowed in Tab Cavern.

He turned quickly when Topper and his small crew returned. “Well?”

“She was right. Half a tooth is missing on the second gear wheel. We were there for the completion of the rotation—you can see how it doesn’t grip straight away.”

“Excellent. Easy to fix then.”

Dosa looked at her feet.

Tasko shook his head. “Actually...”

Topper grunted. “A couple of hours to do the job. We’ll have to pull out the... I am not sure what it is...”

“The dilaton commutator?” Ping offered. “It says here.” She pointed to the screen.

Topper looked over her shoulder. “That’s the bit all right. And to pull that out we have to pull out half the gears in the actuator. And to pull out some of those...”

Keeble grunted and looked around the room. He spied a toolbox and crossed to it. “Let’s go and take a look then, shall we.” But he didn’t pick the box up. The women were going to be coming one way or the other it seemed, so perhaps they just needed to be given the longest apprenticeships in dwarvish history... “Ari, bring that.”

Keeble climbed the stairs to Level 5. There was a pair of young dwarves, a couple of years Keeble’s junior, coming down the stairs.

“We were wondering where you went,” one of them said. He had spiky hair and a short beard.

“We’ve been working.”

“More work? Can we help?”

Keeble turned to look at Tasko, waiting on the stairs behind. “Bargle and Hoodek both helped with the... with the recycler.”

Keeble sighed. He had totally forgotten about the dismantled air recycler. They all had. The other dwarves looked just as embarrassed as he felt. “Tasko and Drago, take these two and get the recycler back together.”

“We’re on it.” The four of them went down, sidling past the clock repairers on the narrow stairs. Keeble finished climbing to Level 5 and followed Dosa to the clock entrance.

#

Keeble watched as Ari entered the mess and made her way to the food dispensers on the wall. When she had collected three packets of food she stood and looked around the room.

Keeble looked away but she came and sat down at his table. There were plenty of other places she could eat.

“What do you want?” Keeble asked.

For a moment it looked as if Ari might get up and leave. “We used to eat together all the time.”

“It’s different now. Things have changed. You’ve changed.”

Ari shook her head. “No, I haven’t. The world has changed, not me. I wanted to work before, I wanted to have friends and do interesting things. Now the world is a place where I can.”

“Well, maybe I don’t like the world.”

“Well, maybe the world doesn’t care,” Ari said. She sounded angry but didn’t look up. “We used to talk all the time, Keeble. But it was always about you. About what you had done and what your friends had done and... I was just a piece of furniture that responded to your conversations slightly better than the table.” Finally she looked up. “Well, now I’m going to talk back. If you don’t like it, you’d better change seats.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“No. But at least now I’m allowed to tell you what I think.” She looked back down at her food, tearing open a packet and spilling half of it onto the table. “At least now I’m allowed to think.”

Keeble grunted. But Ari had always been thinking. That was one of the reasons he had liked her. When he went home after his shift finished she always had ideas. He cleared his throat. “You remember one time you told me how to improve the design for the donatel stove?”

“You said it was a silly idea.”

“I told Bavil. He made some adjustments and...” He watched as Ari gave a small smile then turned her attention to cleaning the mess off the table. “I told him it was my idea.” Keeble looked at the mess on the table too. He was saved from having to explain when Cuto stepped up beside the table. “Greetings, Cuto,” Keeble signed carefully.

“Greetings, Keeble,”

“What is Cuto doing here?”

“Cuto was hoping to help with repairs.”

Keeble shrugged. “All major repairs were recently finished. There are only small jobs remaining.”

Cuto nodded and Keeble smiled. Nodding was not a gesture the aliens normally used. “That is good,” Cuto said. But the disappointment was obvious.

“You could help, with one of the small jobs.”

“Not if the help is not required.”

“I think Meledrin is doing something in the gardens. Cuto might be able to talk to her.”

“Cuto thanks Keeble and will talk to Meledrin.”

Keeble watched as the alien left then turned back to Ari. But he still didn’t know what to say. “I’m going to find something to do,” he said. “You should...” He cleared his throat and watched her hands still working at the mess on the table. “I’ll probably be back here in a couple of hours to get a drink.” He glanced at her face then hurried from the mess.

7: Solitude

Meledrin discovered a seat in the storeroom and placed it in the middle of the garden. She sat, eyes closed, and let her mind drift. She sat for some time, surrounded by the dry, still air and the dust. Like the room, she was silent and empty.

After more than half an hour of stillness she stirred and looked around. She could already see how it might be. A row of trees hiding the main the main walls, perhaps. Creeper vines on the cliffs up to the higher levels. Ferns in the tunnel leading through to the other side. It would be a place of calm amidst the bustle and hard-edged certainty of the rest of the ship. Meledrin decided she would not be able to remain on the ship if the room was not used for its intended purpose.

She sighed. It would be some time before anything would be done, she imagined, so at present it would have to suffice in its current condition.

The sound of a door opening disturbed her and she turned to see Cuto standing in the dust, looking around curiously.

“Greetings, Cuto,” she signed. “Are you well?”

“Greetings, Meledrin. Cuto is well, thank you.” The alien signed as well and didn’t bother with the words at all. It looked around again. “Keeble stated that Meledrin might be working in the garden.”

Meledrin sighed again. “Meledrin wishes she was able to do some labor here, Cuto. Unfortunately supplies are required before that is possible.”

“Then what is Meledrin doing?”

“Merely sitting and enjoying a moment of quiet, Cuto.” Meledrin looked around again. “It is not such an inviting place at the present time, but given the chance Meledrin and the other elves will turn this into a place of peace and beauty.”

Cuto looked confused. “To sit in?”

“Yes. If that is what is desired. To wander. To read.”

“But where are all the other hakans?”

Meledrin looked around. It was unusual for there to be no other people at all in the gardens, but that was hardly a reason for concern or suspicion. “Meledrin is unsure. But the solitude was welcome.”

The alien looked even more confused. “Solitude is welcome?”

“Of course.” Meledrin thought it strange that a being from a planet filled to the brim with people would not see solitude as a gift beyond imagining. But, if finding solitude might require a mission of great effort why would one even give the idea thought. “Cuto never spends time alone?”

“No.” Cuto shook his head. “There is only family.”

Meledrin did not know how to reply to that. She tried to gather her thoughts. “But Cuto is an individual. Cuto has conscious thoughts and free will. How can Cuto not matter?”

Apparently Cuto did not have an answer to that. The alien stood and stared at Meledrin as if giving the matter thought for the very first time. “Without family, Cuto has nothing.”

“Without Cuto and others there is no family. A family is nothing more than a group of individuals. And it is the differences, the individuality, that makes families strong, for if one family member cannot solve a dilemma, perhaps another can.”

“Cuto is not sure.”

“Perhaps a lack of diversity is the reason your culture had stagnated.” Meledrin regretted the words as soon as she said them. And she wasn’t even sure if she were correct. Kim seemed to think the hurgon were mired in their history, but she had been wrong as often as not.

“Cuto will think on this.”

It appeared that the alien was going to do it on the spot. It crouched slightly, as if settling in, then ceased to move. Meledrin watched for several minutes, waiting for some sign of life, but none was evident. The slow, vacant stare unsettled Meledrin and suddenly her spot of peace and quiet was not as welcoming as it had been. Leaving her seat where it was, Meledrin walked through the tunnel around to the far side of the garden.

The second side was much the same as the first. Dust and stillness. Except Suldon was sitting on the top level, legs hanging down over the cliff.

“Greetings, Meledrin,” the young saveigni said.

“Greetings, Suldon.”

“Are you imagining what type of garden this might be? Where the trees might stand? What flowers might be at their feet?”

“I have been, though that was not truly my purpose in coming here. I just wanted to sit and not be surrounded by the cold stone and metal and... And whatever else this ship is constructed from. I wanted to feel the earth beneath my feet again—dry lifeless earth though it is.”

The saveigni nodded. “Dry and lifeless it might be, but there is something about it. The age, perhaps? It has been sitting her for millennia, waiting for something to happen.”

Meledrin looked around though she did not feel the same. “Perhaps.”

“You seem troubled.”

For a moment, Meledrin thought of offering a denial. “You are perceptive,” she said eventually. “I was speaking with Cuto just a moment ago and pointed out what we hakans would see as a flaw in hurgon society and culture.” She sighed. “I believe I was wrong to do so, but Cuto now seems to be thinking on the matter and I am unsure if any good can truly come of it.”

“If the flaw was pointed out without malice and in a polite manner I cannot see that it is a bad thing. If Cuto is thinking on the matter then it seems that no offence was taken. I would not concern yourself.”

“Perhaps you are correct.” But she was still unsure. She spoke with Suldon for a few minutes more, until the saveigni begged his leave and made his way towards the upper levels of the ship.

Meledrin climbed higher as well, but only to the upper level of the garden. Once there, she moved back to the other side of the ship and looked down on the spot where Cuto stood. It appeared that the alien had not moved at all. Like its society, perhaps it would stand there until the current situation was resolved and only then move on to something else. Perhaps the hurgon were waiting for the war to end before they moved on to their next phase of existence. And until then they would tread the same path over and over again. For five minutes she watched before she too made her way towards the upper levels of the ship.

#

Meledrin returned to the garden some time later and Cuto still stood in the same spot. She went to stand in front of the alien. It didn’t notice her.

“Are you well, Cuto?” she eventually asked out loud.

Finally, the alien stirred. “Yes, Meledrin, Cuto is well. Cuto has given much thought to what Meledrin said but has not been able to come up with an answer.”

“It is not easy to question all that is known. And perhaps I am wrong, Cuto. Just amongst the hakan peoples there is such diversity in cultures and ideas. This proves that there is no one right way. Different lives suit different peoples.”

“Perhaps. But perhaps living a different life does not make it correct.”

Meledrin sighed. “Meledrin does not know the answers, Cuto. Perhaps there are no answers.”

“Cuto will think on it some more later. When Cuto spoke to Keeble before Keeble said there were small jobs that needed to be done. Does Meledrin know it those jobs remain incomplete?”

“Meledrin does not know.”

“Cuto will find Keeble to ask.”

“Meledrin will accompany Cuto.”

Meledrin walked by the alien’s side as it made its way to the stairs and up to the Engineering Bay. There were five dwarves there. They all looked up for a moment then four of them went back to their work as if the alien was just another member of the crew.

Keeble smiled and started signing. “Greetings, Cuto. Much work has been completed since we last spoke.” He pointed to a list on his computer screen. Over half the items had been crossed out. “The hakans are making progress.”

Cuto nodded and examined the list as well, as if it could read what was written there. “Are there any tasks that Cuto can complete?”

“Well like I said before, you can help with any, I suppose...”

“Cuto would like to work alone.”

Keeble glanced at Meledrin.

“I believe it would be a good idea to allow Cuto the opportunity, Keeble,” she said in Rongo.

“Why’s that?”

“Cuto is questioning his reality.”

“What?”

“Cuto is giving thought to the way hurgon society works.”

“That’s a good thing, is it?”

Meledrin winced. “I am unsure, Keeble.” From the little she knew, she decided there were many problems with hurgon society, but who was she to judge? The alien civilization had outlived the hakan one by a considerable amount of time.

“That doesn’t help. And what if he can’t fix... Whatever it is he tries to fix.”

“The hurgon have no gender—” Meledrin stopped when Keeble glared at her. “When the task has been completed, appoint a dwarf to carry out an assessment.”

“Right. Of course. I suppose that won’t take any longer than actually fixing it.” He checked his list for a moment. “Is Cuto sure?” Keeble signed.

The alien didn’t look sure. “Cuto has much to think on. All hurgon have choices to make at this time, perhaps time in solitude will make the choices easier.”

“What are the hurgon thinking about?”

“It is soon the time of seeding. Cuto must decide between symbo and givtar. Or neither. It is Cuto’s first time choosing and Cuto is conflicted.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is a time that affects all hurgon. It is a time of great opportunity.”

Keeble shook his head and gave up. “So you want to work alone?”

Cuto nodded.

“Keeble, I think it would be beneficial if Cuto worked in a location that was well away from other individuals.”

Keeble started checking his list again. “Cuto, one of the doors in the hold isn’t working.” He brought up a map to show the alien the location. “There’s a tool box over there.” He glanced at the screen again as if wondering if there was anything else to say. “Let me know when Cuto is done.”

The alien nodded. It collected the tools and left.

“I think you have done a good thing, Keeble.”

“What’s so special about fixing a door?”

“The fixing of the door means nothing, in itself. But Cuto is working alone. I believe this is almost unheard of for hurgon.”

“That’s crazy. Even for dwarves, that’s crazy.”

Meledrin raised her eyebrows. “Indeed.”

#

Meledrin switched on the radio so Kim could talk to the Americans but then had nothing to do as she guided the ship towards the ground.

It seemed a lifetime ago that they fled Nexis. The Americans in the hangar and then the hurgon and finally, the multeese. Running, ever running but not seeming to make any progress. Mother Meenu was aboard the Hakahei but that was only progress if some type of agreement could be reached with the authorities on Earth. Otherwise it was more running around in circles with no hope of an ending.

Meledrin sighed and watched as the mountain came closer. She was unsure how Kim knew it was the correct one—as far as Meledrin was concerned there were half a dozen that all looked more or less the same. But finally Tuki was able to adjust a camera and the landing area outside the door became visible. Kim took the Hakahei down to the area indicated by the Americans. She set the ship down with a jolt then sat silently in her seat. Everyone turned to look at her.

“Now whats?” Scree asked eventually.

“Now we save the world,” Kim said. “The worlds.” But she sat there and didn’t outline any plans.

Scree sighed. “So what do we need to do? And what do we need to avoid doing?”

Apparently Kim was learning from the dwarves—she nodded and started to think out loud.

8: Knowing a Bit

Scree checked everyone was ready. Red troop didn’t exist any more—Gorge’s rebellion had seen to that. The last two members, Shardy and Sandy, had been put into other troops to make up for the losses there. Fifteen people weren’t enough, as far as Scree was concerned. Three troops weren’t enough. But they were good people—any troll who could sit and do nothing on the ship while they waited to die was good people—so it would have to do.

Stone and Green Troop were waiting in the airlock. Keeble wound the gears on his hand, and Suldon checked the weapon he’d been given as if he knew what he was doing.

With a nod to them all, Scree hit the button to open the door.

The area in front of the hanger on Nexis was designed for landing ships. Kim had found a spot where a cliff reached the door on Level 3, and landed the ship. But it was about six meters to the stone, according to Tuki’s hurried calculations and Scree wasn’t going to argue. Radii and circumferences had been mentioned... He trusted the lad to get it right and had sent trolls to find something to bridge the gap.

But the Americans had been doing some testing of their own. Before the door was all the way open, a gangplank extended from the cliff and touched gently against the hull. It didn’t meet perfectly, but that was probably Kim’s fault, not the Americans’.

A few meters away, a small group of soldiers waited. The leader was a tall thin man with close-cropped red hair and a scar on his cheek. There were three others with him, standing just behind, weapons slung over their shoulders.

Scree led the way, stopping in front of them.

The leader said something as he waved swirling dust away from his face. Scree couldn’t understand anything, but Suldon’s voice in his mind translated.

<Good afternoon. I’m Lieutenant Nathan Jones of the United States Air Force... We weren’t sure you’d really return.>

Scree didn’t say anything.

<I believe he is awaiting a reply of some kind.>

<Lets him wait.>

After the initial inspection Scree ignored the humans and examined the surrounding area. The stone shelf of the main platform. Other shelves—on a few different levels for different sized ships—around the outside. A dozen other men were visible, most near the huge door to the hanger.

Eventually Scree turned to look at Jones. “We’re going to opens the door to a ship. That’s all we’s doings. And while we’re doing that, you’ll take Palsamon to our ship. Right?”

Suldon started to translate, though Scree, knowing a bit about elves, doubted it would be word for word. He didn’t let him finish anyway.

“Don’t translates,” he said out loud.

Suldon stuttered to a stop. Nobody said anything.

Eventually Lieutenant Jones started to look annoyed. “Why not allow him translate,” he asked in halting Rongo.

Scree smiled. “Cause if you don’t understands this language when it takes only a few hours to learn, then I ain’t goings to help you.”

Then man scowled. “I can speak but not good.”

“Don’t matter what you’ve got to say at the moment anyway. I’ve told you what’s going to happen.” Scree smiled some more.

“I don’t know I allow you do anything, sir. Commanding officer told me get skyglass then report.”

“I’m sures he did.” Scree was having fun—he had all the power and could probably get anything he wanted. “My commanding officer told me to open a ship and bring back Palsamon, that’s all.”

Jones didn’t look happy.

Scree checked his weapon then walked across to the hangar door. Green Troop, Suldon and Keeble were close behind. He stopped at the door. There were heaps of ships and just about every one had a group of humans around it, working at getting in. Nobody seemed to be having any luck.

“Which ship does you wants?” Scree asked Jones. But if Scree knew a little bit about elves, then he knew a little bit about humans too... He headed toward the biggest of the ships before the man could reply. The Lieutenant probably didn’t know anyway and would have to ask someone else.

The ship Scree chose was right down in the back corner. It looked exactly the same as the Hakahei, only twice the size. The humans were certainly impressed by it—they covered it like flies on a rotten cat.

“Tell thems all to get off. We wants nobody anywhere near the ship.”

Jones had a sour look that might have impressed some people. Scree waited. The Lieutenant made his protests with brow wrinkling effort, but Scree didn’t reply. He ignored the man some more. Eventually, Jones got the point and ordered the men down.

Someone else countermanded the order.

Another soldier was striding across the hangar like a man with a purpose. There were a handful of others being drawn along in his wake. A wave of salutes followed. Scree sighed.

Lieutenant Jones and the newcomer spoke quickly. Neither seemed very happy.

“Jones tells me you won’t hand over the skyglass?” the newcomer said eventually. “I thought we had a deal.”

“Who is you, exactly?”

“Where is Miss McLean?”

“Who is you?”

“If you don’t—”

Scree turned and looked at the far wall.

“I’m Major Williams. I’m in charge here.”

Scree turned back to face the man. He smiled. “Great. I’m Scree and here’s how it is—”

“Lieutenant Jones already told me what you intend to do. But I want to know where the skyglass is.”

“Where do you think it is?”

“Do you have it?”

Scree looked down as if he might be hiding something in his rubberized EVA suit. Apparently Williams didn’t have a sense of humor but managed to control himself with an effort.

“We gots you a skyglass,” Scree finally relented. “It’s on our ship.”

“Why aren’t giving it to us now?”

Scree shrugged, though he knew the answer. “You’ll have to ask Kim. Like I said to this guy, I’m just doing what she told me to do. So, you gets all them people off the ship, and we’ll opens the door for you. Then we will goes back to the Hakahei, with Palsamon.”

“Where’s Miss McLean?”

“She’s organizing things for later.”

“What’s happening later?”

“She’ll be introducing you to your crews and stuffs.”

“Our crew? For our ship? We’ll be supplying our own crew, as Miss McLean well knows.”

A shrug. “Talks to her about it. But, of course, it don’t matter one way or another if you can’t gets into the ship.”

Finally the Major gestured angrily to Jones. “Palsamon is recovering well. I will have him escorted to the dock.” And he stormed off with his followers.

“Where’s we going in, Keeble?” Scree asked as the last of the Americans scrambled down from the scaffolds surrounding the ship.

The dwarf looked. “There.”

“And comings out?”

“Over there.”

“Rights.” Scree examined the two points, trying to fix them in his mind.

A precarious looking scaffold had already been arranged at the exit door, but something had to be moved to the entry point.

Scree got the Americans to do the dragging and the grunting. He stood with his arms folded and smiled at Jones occasionally. A crowd gathered to watch.

When the new scaffold was in place, Scree told Keeble to lead the way and told the rest of his group to head up to the exit.

“How you going get in?” Jones asked. “We worked that panel almost entire day with no luck.”

“You just watch and learns why you’ll be using the crew that Kim’s organized.” Scree started to climb. <Stone, you just makes sure you keeps that door clear.>

Stone grunted, as if offended by the very idea of not completing his job properly. Scree laughed in reply. A week ago neither of them would’ve cared one way or the other.

Keeble was already Singing his Song. Scree could hear the strange sounds hanging in the air around him. He could feel them. By the time they reached the top of the scaffold and the panel there, the dwarf was ready. He shifted the sounds subtly, then climbed into the hull and disappeared. Scree turned to wave at Jones and the other Americans. He smiled at their stunned expressions and climbed in after Keeble.

“Tight fit in here,” he said.

“It’s an air lock,” the dwarf replied as he shifted the focus of his Song and moved through another wall.

When Scree joined him, the dwarf was shining a torch around, revealing a narrow, low, dust coated maintenance passage. “Wasn’t made for trolls. Don’t know why you had to come anyway.”

“You do so. To make sure you don’t get lost or don’t decide to hangs around and fix something.”

Keeble smiled. “I might stay.”

“No you won’t. You don’t wants to be working for the Americans.”

“Bet they don’t put a woman in charge.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think their boss will be as good as Kim—she don’t interfere in what you doing, does she? Tells you what she wants then goes away?”

“Yes. But I’m in charge of the Engineering department.”

“Think them Americans will put you in charge of anything?”

“No.”

“Right. Admit it, you don’t think Kim’s too bad anyways.”

“Maybe not.” He shrugged and smiled slightly. “Don’t like her as much as you though.”

Scree stared at him. “Let’s get moving. No time to sits here talking.”

Keeble laughed and turned to crawl towards the center of the ship. “Where should I go then, Mr Expert?”

“Just get us out of these damn passages. Worry about the rest after that.”

“Right then.”

It was a few minutes before Scree poked his head out into a hallway and looked around. “Where is we?”

“I thought it was your job to know that.”

“Nope. Just my job to gets us where we’re going. Big difference.”

“Well, if this is the same as our ship only twice as large then this level would be water and fuel tanks, like our Level 8 is.”

“Well, that ain’t it.”

“No. So who knows then? Let’s just get out of here.”

Scree looked around, but one direction down the hall looked the same as the next. He pictured the position of the other door in his head, but that was meaningless until they found some stairs. And they knew enough to know that there’d be stairs somewhere. While Scree thought, Keeble went to open a door.

“It is a refectory,” the dwarf said after getting it open just a crack and peering through. “It’s huge though. Four times the size of our own.”

“Let’s gets out of here.”

Scree picked a direction and set off. It was easy to find a set of stairs but he was having trouble judging the floors. He got off a level too early and, after wondering through a couple of doors, found himself in a hangar that took up at least half the level. He recognized some of the vehicles there, Landers and Miners, but there were also a dozen craft that looked a whole lot meaner than anything on the Hakahei. He wanted to look, but Keeble pushed past to see what the hold up was.

“Wrong floor? Whistler’s Mother. I could have picked the wrong floor. No use sending you along for that.” He turned around and went back the way he’d come. Keeble seemed to be enjoying himself now. Scree cursed and followed.

The next floor seemed about right. Scree stalked through the hallways, trying to find the outer edge of the ship. A half open door show a room with a dozen weapons control chairs. Again, Scree wanted to stop and look but knew it’d do him no good. The next room was completely empty except for a small box full of the shiny cubes that Kim said were like books.

“Must be getting close,” Keeble said, backing out of the room.

“This way.”

They continued along the passage. It twisted and turned, as if people were supposed to get lost in there. There were doors every few meters to divide the ship into smaller and smaller sections. “This must be a fighting ship,” Scree said as he passed through another door.

“Why do you say that?”

“‘Cause there was all thems weapons chairs. And all these doors.”

“What do doors have to do with anything? If the enemy gets in the ship it’s a bit late to be worrying about locking the doors.”

“We gots the same sorts of doors on the Hakahei, just not as many. They not to stop people, they to stop air in case the ship gets a hole.”

“So?”

“So with all these doors they obviously think there’s a lot more chance of getting a hole...”

“Right. Of course.” The dwarf examined the next door they passed, as if it was suddenly completely different.

Scree was glad when he found the outside of the ship and the right door. There was no passage leading all the way around here, just a big room designed for defense. There were people sized nooks in the wall and barricades. Not an easy room to pass through if someone wanted to stop you.

Scree started to work at the handle to open the door.

Once somebody outside started to help, pushing against the edge of the stubborn door, they were done quickly. Scree slipped outside.

Major Williams was back and stood with Jones at the bottom of the stairs, watching as Scree sauntered down. A few score of men and women were behind the officers, keen to get inside and have a look.

“Do we get the skyglass now?” Williams asked.

“Calm down,” Scree said, from the bottom step. “Once we gets back to our ship Kim will be coming to speak with you.”

“Speak with us?”

“Yeps.” Scree could see the humans eyeing the open door above, wanting to get in.

“And she will have the skyglass?”

“Nope. If you have a problem with that, talk to her about it. You’s going to have plenty to keep you busy, anyways.” Though they couldn’t because he was still standing in the way. Trolls were on the steps behind him, humans were waiting to get on. Finally he moved and the stairs were cleared. The Americans rushed on, setting the whole scaffold to shaking with the thunder of their steps.

9: Sunshine

Kim stepped off the gangplank and stopped where Scree had stopped an hour earlier. There were two dozen people behind her waiting for a signal. Kim wasn’t the one giving the signal. Pool, her personal bodyguard for the day, scanned the area, eyes narrowed in concentration. The trollop was about thirty years old, with roughly trimmed short hair and hawk-like nose. She looked as mean and competent as any of the males.

Kim ignored the activity behind her and concentrated on the group in front. She tried to remember the symbols of American military officers but it had all been so long ago. If she could get close enough to read the badge... Kim heard Pool give the all-clear in the radio stuck on her temple and looked back as the rest of the group exited the ship. A stranger bunch there had never been. Rowdy male dwarves, dwives like school leavers turning up for their first day of work. Two meek moai—even the usually haughty Okalani—and six elves who might have been out for an afternoon stroll in the gardens. The four remaining members of yellow troop looked like professional soldiers, calm, alert and deadly. Kim took a couple of steps forward. The trollop bodyguard went with her.

“Miss McLean?”

“Major Williams.” She didn’t need the badge. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure.”

“Now, don’t be like that.”

“We aren’t in the mood for being nice.”

“Well, if you aren’t nice to me things could get a little bit complicated.”

“And why’s that?”

“This is Pool, Major. She’s a troll. And she likes me.” Kim turned to look at the troll. “Well, I think she likes me. Do you like me, Pool?”

Pool didn’t answer. She grunted and kept looking for signs of trouble.

“Anyway, the point is, she’ll hurt anyone that she thinks is some type of threat. So, please, do be nice.” The rest of Yellow Troop weren’t far behind either. Five pure bred trolls with advanced weapons would make a mess of a much larger number of Americans. Even highly trained Americans.

“I have nearly a thousand men in this area, Miss McLean—do you really think I could not have you in custody in a moment if that was what I wanted.” There were half a dozen armed men just a step behind him.

Kim smiled. “It is what you want, Major, and yet here I am, standing around in the sunshine as if I own the place.” She smiled some more. “Did General Hilliard pass on all the information? If so, then you’ll know elves and dwarves and moai are basically human. We’re all from one race and have been genetically engineered in one way or another.”

“The General told me something but—”

“If the story he told you is hard to believe then it’s probably true. I’m pretty sure trolls are human as well, and their job was to kill people. They’re very good at their job. They like it. I have sixteen trolls and I have a big shiny space ship... We both know you wouldn’t stand a chance.” Kim stole a glance over her shoulder. The ship was not all that shiny really, and not all that big, but... “I also have something you want.” That was the clincher. “How about I introduce you to your crew, then show you how to work the ship?”

“Humans may not be engineered to travel in space, but we can learn anything. We don’t need your crew. Just give us the skyglass and let us decide how to use it.”

“Back on Earth, Hilliard was trying to work the skyglass,” Kim said. “He had a computer talking to it in the right language—this one—but nothing was happening. Want to know why? Because it takes more than talking the right language or holding your tongue right. It takes an extra piece in your brain. A piece that Tuki and all other moai have.”

The Major examined the people behind Kim. “Well, I see the moai, but I don’t see the skyglass.”

“Funny that.”

Major Williams sighed. “Wouldn’t that be easier to show us how to use the ship with the skyglass plugged into it?”

“Of course. What would be harder would be for me to get back to the Hakahei afterwards.”

“Miss McLean, I give you my word—”

“Just like Hilliard gave his word to Tuki?”

“I was not—”

“Of course you weren’t.” Kim shook her head. “This is the way it’ll be done. I’ll go onto your ship with all these people and show you how it works. Some of these people will stay behind and the rest of us will return to the Hakahei. Then about a hundred refugees will come off my ship and Captain Thorpe of the SAS will give you the skyglass. There will also need to be a meeting, but we’ll talk about that later.”

“You have the SAS on your ship?”

“About twenty Brits. They were the first through the gate in England. They had a bit of trouble and couldn’t get back when the gate was retaken.”

“Of course, they’re all welcome.”

“Good. And the rest of the day’s itinerary?”

“If I don’t like it?”

“Then I’ll get back on the Hakahei and wait to see how many seconds it takes you to change your mind.”

The answer was inevitable. “The ship is this way, Miss McLean.”

“That’s what I thought.” Kim walked to the huge hangar door and across to ship Scree and Keeble had opened earlier. American service personnel were coming and going with all types of equipment. Kim wondered if any of them—people or equipment—would be any use.

“That was a Marine officer,” Kim said, pointing to the ramrod back of a soldier. So maybe the sixteen trolls couldn’t handle all one thousand of them, but the Americans still wouldn’t get onto the Hakahei without the permission of those on board.

“The air force doesn’t have a lot of ground troops and we’ve taken a beach head on what may be a hostile world. The regular army will be here soon enough too, I imagine.” He didn’t look impressed by the idea.

“Afraid somebody is going to steal your thunder, Major.” Kim smiled. She’d have to think about curbing her attitude, but she was a space privateer now and they were supposed to be witty and daring. And besides that, it might well be all that was keeping her sane.

Kim stopped at the bottom of the scaffold on the outside of the ship and looked upwards. Without power to the ship, there were far too many stairs to climb after only a couple of hours of sleep in a few stressful days.

“Jesus, Major, you couldn’t have picked something smaller, could you?”

Williams didn’t reply and Kim started to climb the stairs. She went up ten levels on the outside of the ship with Pool by her side. The Major and his retinue were on her heals and her own retinue brought up the rear. Service personnel were coming the other way in a steady stream, all looking as if they were being pulled from both ends. There was probably a growing logjam coming up as well, all being slowed by Kim’s labored progress.

Kim had a slight reprieve after passing through the airlock and into the ship. She got to walk almost thirty meters on flat ground, following a line of rough red arrows spray-painted on the floor. But the arrows led to more stairs and she had to climb another eleven floors.

“Are the lifts that unreliable that they need these stairs?” someone asked from close behind. Kim didn’t turn to see who it was and she didn’t answer.

After finally climbing the spiral stairs to the bridge, Kim sat down on the next set of stairs leading up to the communications seat. She looked around while she tried to catch her breath.

The first thing she noticed was that the room wasn’t all that much larger than her own bridge. Other than that, there was one obvious difference she could spot straight away. There was a seat located behind and slightly above the pilot’s chair.

Kim looked at Major Williams’ growing impatience and found the energy to smile. “It’ll be a while yet before you’re going anywhere I think, Major.”

“At the rate you’re moving, yes.”

“All right, then. Help me up.” After a moment, Williams took her outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet.

She turned and went eight steps up to the communications level and up another three. There was a middle-aged man sitting in the pilot’s seat and staring at the controls as if deciding which one to play with next. He wasn’t wearing a uniform and had a clipboard by his side. There was a blank sheet on paper on the clipboard. Kim shooed him out of the seat, sat down, and looked around again.

“Stop pressing buttons, you lot. You won’t get it going.”

“Ma’am, we—”

“What did you ever learn about a video recorder by pressing the buttons when it was off?”

Someone said: “Well, you might learn how to turn it on.”

“Okay, which smart-arse said that?” She looked around, but the smart-arse was right. “Don’t let me catch you making me look like an idiot again.” She got a bit of a laugh and it looked like the first bit of levity they’d had for a while. Most of the people relaxed slightly. Most stopped pressing buttons.

Kim sighed. She needed to sleep.

Again, the controls arrayed around her were pretty much what she expected. There were a few added extras but not a lot. “Who’ll be driving this thing?”

The man who’d been in the seat nodded. “That would be me, ma’am, at the moment. Though I imagine I’ll have others to do it for me soon enough.”

“Why you?”

“Ten years on submarines. This is my first commission.”

“Congratulations. I’m Kim.”

“I gathered that. I’m Commander Ryan Fallons.”

“Well, Ryan, what do you think of joining the air force?” That may have been why he had no uniform—an emergency posting.

He shrugged. “I’m sure there’ll be a space corps or something invented within the next few days. Otherwise, two days of it in a very strange situation... Hard to say, ma’am.”

“Well, it’s only going to get stranger. So, here’s how it goes.” Kim explained the workings of the ship as best she could. The Commander made notes as she went, asking pointed questions for clarification on several occasions and sticking notes to some of the controls. She also explained the basics of the Ohoga engines. Aka’mu and Okalani had been briefed thoroughly on the subject and would act as the experts until people picked up on the idea.

Everyone else in the room silently watched proceedings.

“That’s it?” Fallons examined the controls again when Kim indicated that she was finished.

“It’s as much as I know. Our ship is a lot smaller and doesn’t have all the controls. According to the computer it’s a scout ship, I would think this is a war ship, though hopefully a small one.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why do I say I hope it’s small? Or why a war ship?”

“Both.”

“Well, if this is as big as we can find, then I reckon we’re all dead, Commander. And I think it’s a warship because Scree said there are lots of weapons chairs down below.”

“So... What else do I need to know?”

“Where are the engineers? Mechanics? Whoever’s supposed to fix this thing and keep it running?”

Major Williams cleared his throat. “Most are down looking at the engine.”

“Which one?”

“Pardon?”

“There are two different types of ‘engines’. Plus there are two clocks. Do they have an idea what they’re looking at? It’s easier to start on the computers. Do you know where the Engineering Bay is?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, that’ll be the place to start—once you get power. That will be the Engineering console over there, when you’re right. There’ll be another down stairs though. How about radio operators? Communications?”

“Here, ma’am.”

“Right, well, that’s the navigation console you’re looking at, guys. Communications is there.”

“Oh.”

They looked embarrassed, though Kim couldn’t imagine why. They couldn’t hope to work out much at all without power or without thinking about who might be using the controls.

“We’ve got another present for you as well. While the men moved to the other controls, Kim tried to think of the names of the elves. Meledrin had spoken to them more than anyone else though and Kim was bad with names at the best of times... “The elves will show you the basics up here but you’ll also have to send some engineers across to the Hakahei to talk to the dwarves about the ansible. Beyond that you’ll all have to learn together.”

Fallons was looking confused. “They’ll learn together?”

“Commander,” Kim said with a smile, “all of these people here, except for the big muscly ones with guns, are going to be a part of your crew.”

Fallons looked at the Major, but wasn’t getting any assistance. “Ma’am, I’m sorry but the United States—”

“The US has never been in a situation like this before, so there’s no precedence, Commander. Elves can learn to speak any language as quickly as you learned to speak this one. They can learn to read as quickly. It’s what they do. If you met an alien, just how were you going to ask them if they’re friend or foe?”

“Well, if they shoot at us—”

“And the moai will be better navigators than anyone on earth. The dwarves? Well, they’ve already proven their usefulness. We wouldn’t be inside without them, would we?”

“That was...”

“Exactly. They can tell you all about it. We only have one clock expert, though, and you can’t have her, but some of the dwarves have been talking to her none stop for about two days so they know more than anyone else about the clock on this ship.

“These things are surprisingly easy to drive, Commander, but only because the right crews are available. Sort of. No offence, but I don’t think a bunch of Americans... a bunch of earthlings from any country... would get very far.”

“That’s it then?”

“That, as you say, is it. I could give you the basics of all of the systems, but there are people here who already know a lot more than me and will know even more as soon as they are given free rein to have a look and tinker.”

“Tinker?” Fallons examined the dwarves and came to the only possible conclusion. “But... they look like they just stepped out of the 19th century. What would they know about space ships?”

“Talk to the CIA and General Hilliard at Area 51. You need these people, Commander. Just keep them as consultants at the start, if you want, but I can guarantee that situation won’t last long. Don’t tell me you don’t have the room.”

“Okay then. But just because I agree doesn’t mean the people who matter will.”

“Major?”

“Miss Mclean, I really don’t think—”

“Major, I brought you a skyglass—”

“Did you?”

“Yes, I did. Do you really think we’d go to all that trouble just to sabotage you by giving you a crew that’ll screw things up? Just keep them on the ship and talk to them. You’ll find out just how useful they are.”

The Major sighed. “I can’t give the orders, but my recommendation will have substantial weight.”

“Good. Then try. You won’t regret it.” She looked at the console to see if she’d forgotten anything. “And that’s it from me, I think.”

Fallons looked as well. “So... I just learned how to fly an interstellar spacecraft in ten minutes? Something doesn’t quite seem right there, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.” With a shake of his head he examined his notes again.

“It’s surprisingly easy, once you get the hang of it. You’ll just have to get up there and drive around a bit. At least there’s not a lot to run into.”

“Except aliens.”

“Yes, about that... You might want to come with the Major and I for a bit of a chat.”

“Might I?”

“Yes.”

“What chat is this, Miss McLean? Does it involve the skyglass?”

“As in—does it involve me giving it to you? No, it doesn’t. You’ll get the skyglass Major, but there are more important things to talk about now. How long would it take to get a representative of the US government here?”

“About an hour. The Secretary of Defense has been in Macchu Pichu since yesterday morning, local time.”

“Then get him. And set up a secure meeting room.”

“Miss McLean—”

“Have I disappointed you yet, Major?” And she cut him off before he could even start... “Except for the fact that you don’t yet have a skyglass?”

“These people can learn nothing without power to the ship.”

He was right too, but Kim had been expecting this argument. “Well, I can give you the skyglass now, Major, but only if the secure meeting room I was talking about is on the Hakahei. That means you, Commander Fallons and the Secretary of Defense come aboard unarmed.”

The Major looked her up and down, as if judging what she might do if she got all of those men onto the ship.

“If I wanted you all dead I’d have let the aliens do it.”

He nodded slowly. “The marines will want a representative or two in on these discussions, I imagine.”

“I dare say they will, and I’m sure they’ll be big and muscly and capable of handling themselves, right?”

“Most marines are.”

Kim smiled. “I’ll arrange for some extra seats. And while you’re on board, I’ll have some people see to the loading of those things you promised.”

“I have some organizing to do.”

“Sure. Commander, would you like to escort me out of here?”

“Of course.”

Standing on the bottom step, below the communications console, Kim looked around at the crew. It was a group that looked normal to her now. She couldn’t imagine working with just humans. She would see the other races in normal humans. Ping was almost oriental. Meledrin was Nordic and Keeble, South American. If they could get over their differences and recognize the similarities they’d make it work. The real question was, would it do them any good? The image of the huge alien ship gliding silently past the in other universe scared her even now.

She sighed. “Good luck, everyone.”

10: Salvation

Standing in the Hakahei’s airlock two hours later, Kim felt she should’ve been in a dress-uniform. Scree and Ping were lined up beside her as part of the welcoming committee, both looking slightly uncomfortable in their official roles.

“Scree, relax,” Kim said. “None of you trolls have to be soldiers—anytime—you just have to get the job done.”

“Yeah, but...” He’d found a new EVA suit—Kim wished he’d get some real clothes.

“If you want to slouch, I am sure you can do it without breaking your concentration.”

He grunted, but did relax a little

Eight men were crossing the platform in front of the hangar. General Hilliard was walking beside an older man who could only be the Secretary. Then came Ryan Fallons and Major Williams. Four others, who’d obviously been brought along as protection, flanked that group. Two dozen others had stopped by the door.

The outer door of the Hakahei was already open and guarded by five trolls. Two were on the platform outside, one right near the door—apparently to make sure nobody climbed the cliff from below—and two more at the back of the airlock. That was Cliff and Blue Troop. Yellow Troop were upstairs with Meledrin. Green was standing by, ready to hand over the skyglass and start the loading of the supplies. They would finally have some real food.

“Miss McLean,” Hilliard said when he stepped into the airlock.

“General Hilliard. How nice to see you again.”

He laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. Is all of this really necessary?” He motioned back to the guards.

Kim shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Ask Scree. He’s in charge of that kind of thing. He pretends to listen to me occasionally.”

“General.” Scree held out his hand to be shaken and Kim gave him a backhanded slap across the ribs. It hurt her hand and he hardly seemed to notice. She wished he’d stop being so serious.

“Scree?” He reached out and gripped his hand.

Kim broke in when she noticed the strain in the General’s eyes and the silent battle going on in the handshake. Hilliard was a big man but getting on in years—he didn’t stand a chance in that encounter.

“And this is Ping. Her people are called zorigami and seemed to be closely related to dwarves. She likes to fix things as well—clocks mainly.”

Kim hit Scree again and he released the General’s hand.

Hilliard nodded and wrung his hand. At least he didn’t try to hide what he was doing. “You already know the Major and Commander, obviously, but this is Craig Hayes, the United States Secretary of Defense.”

“Mr. Secretary. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Kim. And if you’d please call me Craig.”

“So a politician at heart then?”

He laughed a rich warm laugh that Kim immediately liked. “Afraid so. Too long out of the army to keep all that formality going.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Craig,” Kim said with a smile. “A politician or a soldier? Neither is high on my list of people to hang out with at parties.”

General Hilliard interrupted this time. “This is Colonel Peter Harris and Sergeant Tim McCree of the United States Marine Corp.”

“Gentlemen.”

“And Corporal Dwight Marsella and Private Mick Dunning of the Air Force Ravens.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere, Mick?” Kim looked the huge black man up and down.

“Possibly, ma’am. I believe you knocked me unconscious when you were leaving Area 51.”

“You weren’t acting? Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I wouldn’t have even hit you if I thought you were allowed to fight back.”

“Miss McLean. Perhaps we should get started? I don’t know why you wanted us here exactly, but every moment is bringing us closer to disaster.”

“Or closer to salvation, General. Captain Jones will be given the skyglass in a couple of minutes. If you’ll follow me, please.”

“You aren’t going to check us for weapons?”

Kim looked Colonel Harris up and down—he wasn’t wearing any weapons in plain sight—and shrugged.

Kim led the way upstairs to the boardroom on Level 1. She paused before she went through the door though. “If any of you gentlemen do have weapons you may want to keep a tighter-than-usual hold on yourself about now. You do anything that is even a little bit threatening and you’ll get hurt.” She opened the door and went in.

Inside, there was a small console with controls near the door, one long, fixed table and a dozen fixed chairs. Meledrin and Captain Thorpe sat in two of the chairs. Meenu and Cuto, more comfortable on their feet, were standing at the end of the table. Five trolls stood around the outside.

The first Americans through the door—Dunning and Craig Hayes—froze and stared. They were nudged aside by those coming along behind who also stopped to stare.

The Secretary of Defense was the first to recover. Kim was impressed. After just a moment of gaping, he strode forward until he was a meter from the aliens. Then he seemed at a loss. His normal response would have been to shake hands or bow, but without knowing the customs of those he was meeting...

In the end he bowed slightly and introduced himself. “Hello,” he said. “Greetings. My name is Craig Hayes. It is an honor.”

He watched the alien, waiting for a response, but turned quickly to Meledrin as she translated. He was looking at the alien again when it started to talk and did not look away again for the rest of the conversation.

“Aunt Meenu, of the T’loop family, returns greetings.” Meledrin said, translating the alien’s words exactly.

“You could have warned us,” General Hilliard muttered to Kim.

“I could’ve, but you might not have come. Or you might have insisted on bringing more weapons than you did. I had to get you here.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“You’ll find out.” Kim turned back to the other conversation, which was still going. For a moment she wondered what they could be talking about. How do you go about making small talk with an alien? But Hayes and Meenu were exchanging ranks and serial numbers, or something similar, with Meledrin translating a couple of words in arrears.

“The aliens don’t think we’re going to surrender, do they?”

“No, General.”

“Are they going to surrender?”

“You wish. No. The T’loop, one of the Great Families, are offering an allegiance. But that’s probably not quite as good as it sounds at this stage, because in about six hours, give or take, the T’loop are going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“Why?”

“Come on, let’s sit down.”

Craig took the hint and left off with the chitchat. Meledrin went around the table doing introductions.

“Mr. Hayes,” she said when she was done and had spent a moment listening to the alien. “Meenu wishes to know if the information given by Kim is correct. Do the hakans—that’s us—know nothing of the war that was started 500 sun cycles ago?”

“That is about 50000 of our years, Sir,” Kim said. “Back when the ship crashed as Roswell.”

“Ummm...” Hayes laid his hands on the table and gave the question some thought. Kim liked him even more—he took time to answer what appeared to be a simple question. “I can’t speak for the other hakan worlds, but our world, Earth, knows nothing.”

Hayes continued. “Our oldest recorded history does not reach back that far. We were surprised and terrified when the hurgon attacked our world.”

“Can Mister Hayes prove any of this?” Meledrin translated.

“No, I can’t. But even if we did know of that long-ago-war, now is what matters, and we do not want the war to start again.”

“It is too late. It has already restarted.”

“Yes, I know. But... It can get worse yet.”

Kim gave a quiet bark of laughter. Yes, it could get worse, because a couple of minutes earlier, Stone had given the skyglass to an American somewhere and the battle ship in the hangar was probably coming to life as they spoke.

Hayes continued. “And Kim has said that there is an enemy worse than any we have ever faced. Is this true?”

The man could not know much about the multeese. Kim had given a hurried warning when she’d first fled Nexis, but that was all. Perhaps Major Williams had somebody watch the battle overhead. Either way, Hayes was probably just trying to demonstrate that humans and hurgon had something in common.

Meenu remained silent for a long time. “Yes, it is true. The kil’ini of one Great Family were completely destroyed. Hurgon thought it was a hakan construct.”

Hayes shook his head. “We have barely a dozen craft that can fly in space. None are as large as the one we are in now.”

“So you cannot help the hurgon against it?”

Hayes shrugged. “There are more craft in the hangar here, but we have no skill in their use, and are only able to use one anyway.”

“Then what is the use?”

“We will help where we can, Aunt Meenu,” Hayes said. “We will do what we must. That is the nature of friendship. It is the beginning of trust.”

Hilliard cleared his throat. “Let’s get to the point, Sir. Can Auntie Meenu stop the attacks against Earth?”

Meenu looked at the General, an unreadable expression on its face, then turned to Meledrin for a translation. Meledrin looked at Kim.

“Do it. We don’t want them to think we are hiding anything.”

Meledrin nodded and asked the General’s question though she already knew the answer.

“Meenu cannot stop the battles in the short term. Control is only over 16 Kil’ini of the 2019 Kil’ini in the flock. And before one rotation of this planet is completed, the T’loop Family will be called outlaw.”

“What? This conference isn’t sanctioned by the hurgon government?” Hayes turned to look at Kim. “Miss McLean, did you get us into a conference with a rebel faction before seeing if the proper authorities are willing to talk?”

Kim nodded slowly. She could see how that might look bad. She smiled slightly. “Come on, Sir, you’ve seen all the movies—the rebels are always the good guys.”

The Secretary of Defense didn’t appreciate the joke. “How can we really know who’s who here? How can they prove it to us?”

“Okay, look, maybe you’re right, but you have no idea what we had to go through to set this up. There’s no way the others are going to talk to us—the only reason these ones are talking is because Cuto, the alien you had imprisoned, is one of them. We had to start somewhere.”

Meledrin translated all of that for the aliens, apparently taking Kim’s order to the extreme.

“Meenu states that the T’loop family will do what they must,” Meledrin said.

“Shit. All right then. Let’s hear the story.”

“The Fen’dai are the family that have held the hurgon together since hakans and hurgon last met. Fen’dai are amongst every family, watching each contract as it is sealed, ensuring they are not broken. But the Fen’dai have something to gain with each contract. They have power and knowledge that they share with another family in exchange for wealth. Together the Fen’dai and G’nayli have grown rich. That was before. At this time, when hurgon should be spreading to new worlds and growing great with knowledge and peace, Fen’dai are the glue that hold the hurgon back.”

Hayes sat back in his chair and drummed his finger on the table. “So, these Fen’dai are supposed to be inside each family to keep the peace and make sure everything runs smoothly? But they’re really just spies?”

“Mister Hayes has spoken correctly.”

“And what’s going to happen in a day that’s going to cause so much trouble?”

“The Fen’dai officers on the T’loop ship in this vicinity will fail to report in.”

“They’re dead?”

“Incorrect. The Fen’dai officers are detained.”

“Christ. So this rebellion is already unstoppable?”

“Yes. The Fen’dai know that hakans were on a kil’ini. The true nature of events will be deduced.”

Hayes sighed. “Well, it looks like we’ve thrown our lot in with the T’loop family for now. In the future, Miss McLean, I’d appreciate it if you would consult somebody first when you make decisions that effect the entire human race.”

That annoyed Kim. She stared at Hayes coldly—a look General Hilliard probably recognized. “And tell me this, Sir, if I’d asked you, what would you have done? If I’d asked the President, what would he have done? I have just as much right to make that decision as he does, and I can’t imagine he’d have gone to the UN for advice first.” But perhaps, when she had made the decision, she’d not really made a decision at all. What choices did she have at the time? That annoyed her even more. “If it wasn’t for me Hilliard would be torturing Tuki right now to get information about the skyglass—and getting absolutely nowhere.”

Colonel Harris cleared his throat. He wasn’t an administrator so had taken no part in proceedings so far but obviously considered the first part of the conversation over. Teams had been picked, even if nobody was happy with them. The time of the kick-off had been decided. What happened on the field was his domain. “So what happens when the Fen’dai don’t make their reports at the end of the day?” he asked.

“The Fen’dai will ask the T’loop what has happened.”

“And if they don’t like the answers?”

“The Fen’dai have a flock of their own. Kil’ini will be sent to investigate. The T’loop Family will be outlawed.”

“And what happens then?”

Meenu sat silently for a long time. “Meenu does not know. Other outlawed families have been hunted and exterminated, but a Great Family has never been in that position before. Some Families will align with the Fen’dai because the current system has seen them prosper. Most will stand well clear. Some will see this as an opportunity to break free.”

Harris shook his head. “In other words we don’t know shit.”

“Best things to do first” Scree said, “is warn as many friendlies as possible. Does Meenu know of any other families that the T’loop can trust?”

“There are four Great Families and seven Minor Families allied closely with the T’loop. They can be trusted.”

“Well thens, they has to be warned as soon as possible.”

“It may already be too late for all of this. Three Families patrol the space around this world. Two are friends and must have seen this ship coming down to the planet. The third family is unknown. The Kan’ota kil’ini were on the far side of the world so secrecy may have been maintained, but Lisa’lee’la cannot know.”

Scree shrugged. “Then why don’t the T’loop take their friends and go to find out?”

There was a slight pause after Meledrin translated for the hurgon. Aunt Meenu looked from face to face, then she spoke.

“The T’loop will send a message to all allies to meet at, Atlantis, the world you call Earth. That world is more heavily populated and in the greatest danger. The T’loop will end the fighting there, and speak more fully about a course of action against the Fen’dai.”

Kim nodded and smiled. “Cool.”

Meenu spoke again. “Kim, if you permit, Lisa’lee’la will carry your construct as it was carried previously. This will be safer—as it will avoid confusion—and much quicker.”

“Ummm... No, I think we’ll just fly ourselves, thanks. We’ll have everything running better than ever soon.”

“There are many kil’ini and many families unknown to Kim. Meenu would prefer Kim was kept safe until negotiations are concluded. And Meenu would like to start the talks with the hakan leaders as soon as possible. That cannot be started without the assistance of Meledrin or Penisari and Lisa’lee’la will arrive long before the Hakahei.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Ummm... Of course, then. Let’s get this all over with as soon as possible.”

The meeting broke up quickly after that. The aliens were led from the room and their escort of cousins brought from one of the offices. The trolls herded them all downstairs.

General Hilliard stood in the hall outside the meeting room and watched them go. “Will you allow us to put men on your ship, Miss McLean?”

“Why?”

“To have a look at the kil’ini, if nothing else. But also to get a feel for...” He waved vaguely at the sky.

“For the ways of the universe?”

“Something like that yes.”

Kim smiled. “Sure. You can put your political officers on our ship.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“Maximum of four. We’re leaving as soon as we can.” Nobody argued with her. She would’ve argued with the General for the fun of it. He probably would’ve been disappointed if she hadn’t. It worried her that they were taking her so seriously though, as if she knew what she was doing.

11: A Special Word

Tuki, standing near the airlock, watched through the long window as five Americans crossed the platform towards the ship. He was surprised to realize that he knew most of them. Sergeant Tim Mcree and Mick Dunning had come onto the ship earlier with the Secretary of Defense. Airman Ben Dongoske—the first Earthling Tuki had ever spoken to—was also there. The three of them, plus a woman, had bags slung over their shoulders. The other was Major Williams, obviously coming to see them off. Outside, Chip and Crystal, guarding the end of the gangplank, stopped the Americans from boarding the ship.

One of the soldiers looked Chip up and down, as if wondering if he could force his way past. “I’m Sergeant Tim McCree.” The man saluted but looked as if he knew the trolls wouldn’t be impressed. “Your Captain has given us permission to come aboard.”

Chip shrugged and scratched at his eyebrow with a crooked thumb. “Maybe. But she say not yet.”

“What’s going on here?” Major Williams said. “It’s been agreed—”

Kim came out of an elevator and Tuki straightened, as if she would complain that he was slouching or eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Hey, Tuki,” she said as she strode past and went into the airlock.

Tuki shuffled his feet. He was so close to the airlock he might as well have gone in there, but he stayed where he was.

“Miss McLean, what’s going on?” Major Williams asked.

“Major, the men...” Kim raised her eyebrows and looked at the group... “and woman, will be allowed on in a moment, but first I want to make sure some things are clear.”

The Major sighed. “What things?”

Tuki smiled slightly. It was obvious Major Williams expected Kim to list some terrible conditions.

“This may not be a military vessel, but we still need to have rules—and we need to know those rules will be obeyed. So, these personnel will have to agree to abide by my commands, no matter what.”

“Miss McLean, we can’t—”

“Then I can’t, Major. For Christ’s sake, would you just let anyone wonder around one of your bases? I’m not going to ask them to commit treason or anything like that. I just need everyone to know where they stand.”

Tim Mcree spoke up again. “Ma’am, I can’t allow myself to be put under the command of—”

“Think of it this way, Sergeant. If I were to let you onto this ship without us all knowing exactly what your position on it is—which I wouldn’t—then when the time came for things to be done, you’d be locked away in your cabin for your own safety. That’s what happens to visitors. You’d sit and cool your heels, and we’d come and tell you all about it later. Maybe. Of course, we’d be under no obligation to tell you anything at all.”

It was obvious to Tuki that Tim McCree didn’t like the sound of that. None of the American’s did.

Airman Dongoske cleared his throat. “And where would we stand, otherwise?”

Kim had a smile for him. “How’s your head?” She had hit him on the head when they were escaping from Area 51.

“Fine, thank you.”

“Good. The four of you would be forming a fourth Marine troop on board. Captain Thorpe and Paul Manning of the British SAS have chosen to stay with us. Captain Thorpe will be in charge of the new troop. You, Sergeant McCree, will be his 2IC. All of you will answer to Scree and myself, without question, though I’m not prone to giving orders of a military nature when there are lots of people around with more experience. And while they probably won’t give you orders either, you’ll all listen carefully and respectfully to anything said by Ping, Keeble, Meledrin and Tuki, who are officers on this ship.”

Tuki almost choked. He was an officer? After leaving Kiva, Kim had told him he was Lieutenant but he had not really known what that was. Who would listen to him anyway?

“Of course, I don’t expect it to make any difference—we’re only going to Earth—but still.”

“And if we don’t agree to this?”

“Then wait for the next ride. Major, you’ll give the order, though I don’t know how much that’ll mean to the Marines. Then each of you will give me your word, which will hopefully mean a lot.” Kim smiled some more. “You’ll be treated the same as everyone else on board. There are ditches to dig in here, but the elves are looking forward to doing that themselves and the dwarves love to work in any situation. Ping and the dwives have volunteered for kitchen patrol. Dwarves will be cleaning. It seems when we were engineered, everything was considered.”

Major Williams looked to his countrymen and they all nodded, one by one. “Very well. I am placing you all under the command of Kim McLean. A posting that will end only when ordered by a ranking officer from any of the US Armed services.”

They all gave their word.

“Thank you, everyone. Welcome aboard.”

Tim McCree came on board first. The sergeant was a short, solid man with a flat face and flat haircut. “This is Private Amy Mcree, my sister,” he said as the others followed him into the airlock. She was taller and had her hair cut a little longer. She did not look any less capable. “And I believe you already know Airman Dongoske and Brick Dunning.”

“We have met, though that is the first time I have heard that name ‘Brick’ used. And you, Sergeant, can we call you Tim?”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

“Good. And I’m Kim. And the big guy skulking around the corner there is Tuki.”

Tuki blushed as they all came closer.

Kim smiled. “Don’t be fooled by his size, he’s the sweetest person on board.”

Tim held out his hand and Tuki stared at it for a second before thinking to shake it like the humans liked to do. The man’s hand was small in his own, but strong and firm. “Pleased to meet you, Tuki.” His smile was friendly, showing a long row of slightly crooked teeth.

“Thank you.”

Amy and Brick shook his hand as well, but Airman Dongoske hung back, waiting until the others had moved on.

“Hello, Tuki.”

“Hello, Airman.”

“Call me Ben.”

Tuki nodded, but said nothing. What was there to say?

“I wanted to apologize for what happened before. Back at the base. I wanted the General to keep his word. I asked him to, but...”

Tuki nodded again. “I do not think that what you did was good, Airman... Ben... but I think I understand. You had to do what the General told you to do.”

“Yes, but—”

“And the General?” Tuki looked at his hands. “The General had to make hard decisions in strange circumstances.”

Dongoske smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Tuki. I just wish Kim understood as well.”

“Kim does understand, Ben.” Tuki didn’t think there were too many things Kim didn’t understand. “Leading is about closing your eyes and jumping because someone has to go first. It is about sending your friends to die.” Tuki thought of the card games Kim had taught him. “It is about playing poker when there is nobody to tell you the rules.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“So, you volunteered to come on our ship so you could apologize?”

The Airman laughed. “I’ve been working on the apology for a while. I insisted that General Hilliard start making sure everyone involved in the operation knew how to speak Shoshone. I set up the classes and suggested they bring in some people from the other services, just in case. It’s just that this opportunity to apologize directly came up and I thought I’d take it.” He started to follow where his companions had gone, though they were long gone and could be anywhere. “I volunteered for this mission for a chance to go into space. How could I not? The first Native American in space. Huh. I think just about everyone in the armed services volunteered, but the fact that I’ve been speaking this language all my life got me over the line.”

In the halls and the mess, good-byes were being said. Refugees had their meager belongings in hand and were getting ready to disembark. Trolls were stationed to make sure those who were supposed to leave did so. Some, especially amongst the dwarves, wanted to stay where they were.

Keeble and Ping had been allowed to select 16 refugees to work in engineering and clock maintenance—a large portion of them had to be dwives, despite Keeble’s grumbling. And Meledrin chose four elves to work with her in the gardens and in communications.

Seeing Okalani and Aka’mu had been assigned to the American vessel Tuki and Inaki were the only two moai left on the Hakahei. Tuki had been told to pick two people for the navigation department as well. He had not known who to choose and stood dumbly for several minutes, looking from face to face in the common room. Finally Palsamon, Meledrin’s husband, stated that he would like the job. Meledrin had protested but in the end had to choose another elf for her own group. Then a young elf woman named Lisarea volunteered as well. They would not be able to use the skyglass directly, but once it was plugged in the console controls gave full access.

Looking at the refugees, Tuki realized he was in charge of the three other members of the navigation department whose members included a married man much older than himself and a woman. He swallowed and wondered what he could do to stop being a Lieutenant.

Including sixteen trolls and seven humans, that made a total of fifty people living on the ship with a total of 36 bedrooms. Most rooms had between two and four beds but some also had one bed large enough for two people. Tuki wondered who would volunteer to share.

That meant they had only—Tuki added in his head—59 percent of a total crew. Kim wanted no more.

In the hallway, dwarvish refugees lined the wall. They grumbled that if they were to be kicked off would they be done with it already. Elves stood quietly, seemingly unperturbed.

Ruby was the nearest of the troll guards. Tuki turned to her, no longer blushing at the way her breasts pushed at the EVA suit and almost poked out through the unzipped gap at the front. She smiled at him and shifted slightly so her breasts moved beneath her clothes. Tuki did blush then and quickly averted his eyes. Her smile grew.

“Why is everyone still here?” Tuki asked her, examining his hands.

“Americans reckon they aren’t ready yet. That lot couldn’t organize a BBQ in a farmyard.”

“We like everything to be organized,” Ben replied. “We have to sort out medicals and a lot of stuff that you don’t understand.”

“That other lot, the crew, went out before.”

“But we didn’t—”

Tuki interrupted before an argument could develop. “Ruby, do you know where Kim went with the humans?” He wondered if he was not really an officer after all, keeping things under control.

Ruby shrugged. “To the stairs. After that...” She shrugged again. “Let me check.”

She went blank for a moment—a look that Tuki knew meant she was adjusting the radio in her head.

Dongoske was looking the troll up and down. “What’s she checking?”

“She is asking the others where Kim went.”

“Ummm... Which others?”

“The trolls.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “And how’s she doing that, exactly?”

Tuki had not been with the trolls for very long at all, but they had been through so much in that time that all the quirks were commonplace already. “They have a radio in their head. They can talk to each other and constructed radios.”

“Bullshit? You’re kidding me, right?”

“No.”

“Tuki, Scree says they went up to Level 2 to talk to Thorpe and get some rooms organized.”

“Thank you, Ruby.”

The troll smiled a crooked smile in reply.

Tuki led the way to the stairs, as Dongoske looked back over his shoulder. “Quite a young woman there.”

Stone, coming down the stairs, grunted. “Too much woman for you, I reckon, skinny. You might want to look at an elf.”

Tuki heard Dongoske snap his mouth shut, as if biting back a reply. The Airman was not skinny compared to most humans at all, being squat and solid, but compared to a troll... Tuki kept going, stopping any reply that his companion might eventually have made.

Kim stood with the other humans in the open space upstairs. Along with Scree, they were watching as people chose rooms.

There were sixteen beds in four rooms near the engineering bay, so everyone knew where the dwarves would be sleeping. Being communal people, they were happy to have friends living with them. Elves were the opposite, preferring to spend time alone if possible. Though they did not appear to rush, they moved quickly to the rooms with only two beds. The trolls did not seem to care one way or the other, perhaps realizing the room would be used for sleeping and not a lot more. Or perhaps they intended to change rooms every night, sharing with this troll one night and that troll the next. Tuki had heard from others how they never settled for long in one spot.

Seeing there was not a full crew, some people might have gotten rooms on their own. Lots of people merely went to the rooms they had already been using.

“You lot had better get to it,” Kim was saying, though the humans stayed where they were. “Hey, Tuki. Ben.”

The Americans, including Ben, finally moved out to find rooms. Tuki stayed where he was, listening as Kim talked with Scree.

“How’s the loading going?”

“Almost done. Still don’t see why we needs a garden though. Could do lots with that space.”

Kim sighed as if they had been through this before. “There are lots of reasons, Scree, but just keep this one in mind—the elves will probably spend most of their spare time in the gardens. It’ll keep them out of your hair.” With a laugh, she reached up and rubbed at his bald scalp.

“I should thumps you for that,” Scree said, but he was smiling as well.

“Yeah? You wouldn’t have the guts.”

Tuki gasped as Scree, lightning quick, slapped Kim across the buttocks.

Kim gaped for a moment. “Oh boy, are you asking for it.” She tried to hit him, a full-blooded blow that would have knocked Tuki off his feet. Scree knocked her fist aside and suddenly they were fighting.

To Tuki, it appeared deadly serious. They were concentrating fiercely and moving almost quicker than he could follow but when the trolls of Blue Troop came running they cheered and urged the combatants on. They were not at all worried. Even the humans, when they quickly returned, smiled and viewed it all with nothing more than professional interest.

Tuki moved quickly away, wondering if he would ever understand the other races.

Tuki had already chosen his room. It was one of the larger ones on the northwest side of the ship, with a wide bed and more room to move. It was almost as large as the house of the mo’min back in Danyon Ford and much larger than he thought he would ever need. He reached out his arms and turned a full circle without touching the walls. Kim had insisted he take it and for a while he had wondered if he was meant to share with someone. But everyone else had been told that the large rooms were already taken and they should choose elsewhere.

“This your room, Tuki-boy?”

Tuki spun again and saw Ruby leaning against the doorframe. Her EVA suit was still partially unzipped. She still smiled. Tuki nodded in reply.

“It’s big,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “I reckon the room I’m sharing with Crystal and Sandy is plenty big enough though. Kim says we have to keep our own rooms clean.”

“Yes. I’m used to sharing a bunk-room with a dozen other go’gan.” It was not until he had left his home that he realized things might be otherwise.

“What’s a go’gan?”

“An unmarried male.”

“You got a special word for that?” She entered the room—sauntering around a full, slow lap—before coming to stop. She was not far from Tuki. Then she took a step closer. She was so close that Tuki thought of Keala and the few times they had kissed. He looked down at his hands. Ruby, as if guessing what he was thinking and suddenly becoming as embarrassed as he, quickly stepped away. She sat on one of the room’s two chairs and leaned back to put her feet on the other. “This is nice though. Could get used to it.”

“It will feel strange, I think. But Kim said I must.”

“She’s right. You’re one of the leaders and people have got to be reminded of that.”

There it was again, talk of Tuki being a leader when he was just a go’gan. “People don’t listen to me.”

“Yes they does. Or they will, if you says something. You is really quiet, not like any of the trolls I’m used to.”

“Yes, but if they listen will they do what I say?”

“You don’t have to give orders. Who you going to order anyway, when Kim and Scree do enough ordering for everyone. All you got to do is tell people what you think, tell them the way it is. At first anyway. And when they start seeing that you got the right ideas, they’ll start listening. Giving orders ain’t far from there. What if...”

Tuki looked up at her as she trailed away to silence. She was watching him, but looked away.

“What?”

“Well, if you want to talk to somebody, let me know and I’ll come here and sit in your comfy chairs,” she smiled, “and you can tell me your ideas, and I’ll tell you what I think.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

She shrugged, but then spoke. “Maybe I want to hear your ideas. Maybe I just want to talk to someone other than the same old trolls all the time.”

“What about Ping and Ari, you used to talk to them all the time.”

“Well, look, if you don’t want to talk, just say so.” She rose quickly to her feet and went straight out the door.

Tuki thought to call her back, but the words died in his throat. What would he say?

12: Working

Keeble checked his readouts, moving from screen to screen.

“What are you smiling at, Keeble?” Kim asked.

“There are only ten faults left on the ship.”

Kim sighed. “I heard you the last five times you told me.”

“Don’t blame me. You asked.”

That just seemed to annoy her more.

“What’s your problem? The engineering department did well and I’m happy about it.”

She shrugged. “It’s not that. I just... Something.”

“This is not the opportune time for concern,” Meledrin said, looking up from her own controls. “Aunt Meenu and Lisa’lee’la are awaiting our arrival.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Kim glanced at Cuto and Keeble turned to look as well.

The alien had helped with the repairs as much as any of the dwarves, seeming to throw himself into the work like never before. He was tireless and as strong as any of the trolls. He didn’t talk very much though. Normally Keeble would have found that distracting but he had worked with the alien for a while now, right from when they first entered the ship, and was getting used to his strange ways.

“Come on then,” Kim said. “Let’s do this. Keeble?”

One last check. “Good to go.”

“Mel?”

The elf looked up at her.” Yes?”

“Anything I should know?”

“I have heard nothing to suggest we cannot or should not take flight at this time.”

“Thanks. Tuki?”

Scree cut in. “Just fly the damn ship. Someone’ll shout if there’s a problem.”

“Scree there’s certain things—”

“There’s certain things you does when you’s stalling. Either fly the damn ship or tell us we’s staying here.”

Keeble smiled as Kim glared at the troll.

“We flyin’ or what?”

Kim’s top lip twitched as she reached for her controls. She hit the button for the microphone. “Prepare for lift-off,” she said without looking away. “We’re about to take off.” She released the button, spun the steering ball, then sat back. “We ready?” And she pushed the thrust lever to send the ship shooting into the air.

Keeble grunted , waiting for the ship to adjust the gravity. “Was that necessary?” Nobody answered.

It was only a few minutes before they were in space. The Kim spent a few more minutes bringing them to a complete halt. Meledrin got co-ordinates over the radio and Tuki found the right kil’ini amongst all the others.

“Are you sure?” Kim asked.

Tuki nodded but Kim turned to look at Cuto anyway and waved her arms in the ini rituals. And the alien confirmed what Tuki had said. So Kim spun the steering ball and got the ship moving again. As they approached the kil’ini the creature spun to face them and opened its mouth. Cuto waved his arms about some more and Meledrin quickly translated. A moment later Kim did as instructed and brought the ship to a halt.

They waited while the kil’ini reached out for them with a long, rough tentacle.

“Not sure I’ll ever get used to being eaten,” Keeble said. But then it was done and it wasn’t really all that bad at all. “So, I’m guessing we wait now?”

Kim node. “I imagine Meenu will send someone to talk with us.”

“Well, there are still some repairs to do. I’m not going to sit here—it might take the hurgon a week to get here.” It took a while just for the chamber to be filled with air.

Keeble slipped out of his seat and headed for the lift. He wasn’t in a hurry. This was one of the times he liked best. If all the jobs were done he’d get bored. If there were too many to do if felt as if you would never end.

There were already a lot of dwarves in the engineering bay. The all stood there, looking slightly uncomfortable, as they waited for someone to tell them what to do. Keeble sat in the chair at the main computer and smiled. No so long ago he’d been a Wanderer and now he was in charge.

“Well, don’t just sit there,” Dogar said. “Let’s get working.”

Keeble nodded and checked the list of required repairs. There probably wouldn’t be enough for everyone, but after 50 thousand years every part of the ship would need stripping down and cleaning if nothing else. The first thing he needed to work out was which job he wanted. Nothing on the list was all that exciting, but he remembered the half dismantled vehicles in the workshop.

So he started delegating tasks. He was halfway through before he remembered the dwives. He had to give them the simple tasks, like fixing the jammed door in the hold. Either that or pair them with someone else. All the dwarves had agreed to treat the dwives with respect and treat them as equals. But he knew, at this stage, there were some who would treat them more equally than others. He sighed and started again.

None of them could read more than a few words yet so if they had any problems the manuals were useless to them. “None of this stuff is urgent, so if you have any problems ask someone else for help.” Some nodded, some grumbled, but they all set about completing their tasks. Keeble started to make notes about who was doing what—they could complete the paperwork later—and when he looked up, discovered that only Ari remained.

“What would you like me to do, Keeble?” She looked at her boots.

Keeble cleared his throat. “I was going to have a look at one of the vehicles in the workshop.”

“Right. Do we want to look at some manuals?”

He shook his head. “Let’s just go have a look first.”

Hoodek and Dosa were already in the workshop looking for something-or-other but Keeble ignored them and went to the vehicle.  He was pretty sure the first one was used for defense—or attacking, perhaps, if the trolls were involved—and the other looked like it might be used for collecting hydrogen from space. He wasn’t sure of either one, but figured he’d find out in the next few hours.

“Let’s start with this one,” he said, pointing to the fuel gatherer. It was probably more important. He did a lap trying to take it all in at once. Then went and had a look in the troll sized cockpit. Then he stood back to look at it all again. And he didn’t really know all that much more than when he’d started. So he went around to the back to have a look at the parts that had been removed and into the hole they’d been removed from. They were definitely going to need a manual.

“Perhaps it’s already been fixed,” Ari said. “Maybe they just hadn’t gotten around to putting it back together.

Keeble nodded. “That’s doesn’t really help us though.” He would have to assume it wasn’t fixed. It wouldn’t take that long to put it back together so why would the previous repairers—most likely dwarves—not just do it? “We’ll need a basic tool kit and one of those electronic testing kits.”

He wasn’t sure that they were electronics—the colored boards didn’t look much like the electronics the humans used—but he still thought of them that way. “We’ll have to work out how to fix them soon.” There were replacement parts galore in storerooms and in the hold but that didn’t mean they would last forever. “Come on.”

Cuto was in the engineering bay, looking a bit lost. “Have you come to help again, Cuto?”

“Yes.”

Keeble tried to think of who was doing what. “Keeble is unsure if anyone really needs help...” He pulled at his beard and glanced across at Ari for a moment. He sighed. “Perhaps you can just help Ari and Keeble.”

Cuto looked at Ari for a moment too. “Are there any tasks Cuto could complete unassisted?”

“All the jobs are gone, really.” Keeble said. But he remembered what Meledrin had said about the hurgon working alone. “Maybe I can find something.” After a while he asked Cuto if he would be happy to just do some cleaning and tidying.

When Keeble and Ari went past the hangar a few minutes later the alien was already working through a pile of crates in a corner to see what he could see.

Back in the workshop Keeble sat down with the parts in front of him and started to read the manual. The main problem was, he didn’t even know if they’d found the part that was causing the problem. “I think we’ll just have to start by checking these bits on the floor.” So Ari got the testing equipment and started touching the probes to the nodes.

Keeble sat back for a moment to watch. “My father didn’t like you very much,” Keeble said after a minute of sitting. Ari looked up and he realized that it might not have sounded very nice. He cleared his throat. “Well, it wasn’t about liking. He didn’t approve.”

Ari had finished on the first circuit board and Keeble set it to one side.

“I didn’t know that,” Air replied.

“How would you?” When any visitors came to the bunker Ari had been treated as not much more than a piece of furniture. A piece of furniture that could cook.

“What did I do wrong?”

Keeble shrugged. “You didn’t really do anything wrong. But I talked about you, and the things you said. The ideas you had.” He shrugged again. “Everyone knew how smart you were. They thought you didn’t respect me. And they thought I was too lenient on you, letting you do and say the things you did, even if it was only at home.”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to be smart.”

“You weren’t allowed to be anything, Ari.”

Ari handed him the second part and they sat in silence while she worked on the next.

“Why do dwarves ask dwives to move out of the maiden bunker?”

“Because we...”

“Did you ask me because you wanted me to live in your bunker? Or was I just the first dwife you saw in the maiden bunker that day.”

“Of course I asked you in particular.”

“Then I was allowed to be something because something made you choose me.”

“I suppose.”

“But after you chose me you didn’t want me to be anything?”

Keeble took the next part. “I never said that.”

“Not to me. But what did you say to your father? And what do you say to people now?”

Another shrug.

Ari gave a sigh and put down the final colored board. “This one is fine too.” But she looked at the testing equipment and then at the open panels on the vehicle. “It would help if we actually knew what was wrong. Maybe we need to put it back together.”

“We can’t put it back together. We’ll just have to keep trying.” Keeble got the regular tool kit and started pulling apart something that looked like it might be a pump.

It was Ari’s turn to watch. “Did you know that Topper likes Ping?”

“What? No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. Maybe he doesn’t realize it yet, but he does.”

Keeble grunted. It looked to him as if Ping had found strength while in Scree’s company and it wouldn’t be easy for Topper. Looking at Ari, Keeble kept working on the pump.

13: Stars

Tuki stared at the Loader for a long time. It was clamped to the floor in the Level 3 airlock, ready for action. He could work out how to undo the clamps, that was easy enough, but as for the action? He had no idea.

“What ya looking at?”

Every time Tuki looked at one of the young trolls, they seemed to be slouching. Talus was the youngest of them—a couple of years younger than Tuki even—and he took the slouch to all new levels.

“The Loader.”

Tuki watched as Talus turned to look at the machine as well, as if he might have missed some interesting fact about it. “Why?”

“I was wondering how to move it.”

“Why?”

“Well, Kim says this hallway is a running track. And that wall on the other side of the Loader looks like a door, so if I could move it, I could run all the way around.”

“Right. You could just run around, up that way to the library-thing and down the other side of the duct.”

“I thought of that. But it doesn’t seem right. I would have to slow down to go around the corners and I could run into people in the halls.”

“Most sensible people would get out of your way. You bloody big.”

“Yes but...” It didn’t seem right.

“I could move it for ya.”

“You could?”

“Sure. You the boss.”

With that, the troll moved forward and worked at the clamps. After that he sat in the seat and examined the controls.

“Do you know how to drive?”

Talus nodded emphatically. “Well, kinda. I got showed a bit when we was rescuing them elves, but...”

Tuki would have been frozen by such lack of knowledge, but Talus shrugged and hit a button. The Loader rose off the floor. When the troll did something else he seemed slightly surprised by the result but recovered quickly. “You open the door and I’ll park in the hall round the corner.”

“Pardon?”

“Open the door.”

Tuki found a button by the lockers on the back wall and pressed it. Half the door started to retract into the ceiling, the other half into the floor. Before the sections completely disappeared, Talus had the loader out of the airlock. Directly outside was the freight elevator. It led down past the hangars and garden all the way to highest of the two holds. Talus did not go down though. He turned into the branching passage and pulled up against the wall there, opposite the kitchen’s storeroom.

“Huh.” He climbed down from the Loader, looking at the floor. “There’s clamps out here too.” But he had not parked in exactly the right place, so had to climb back on and try again.

“Thank you, Talus.”

“Yeah.”

But the troll was concentrating so Tuki started to run.

The ship was inside the mouth of the kil’ini so there were no stars outside to look at but the action of running still cleared Tuki’s mind immediately. He could imagine he was in the desert again. He noticed for the first time that the floor of the passage was soft, unlike the floor in the rest of the ship. There were marks on the outer walls, below the long, curving windows. One dot every quarter, he thought, counting the steps between marks. He found himself back at the starting point.

Talus jogged by his side for a while. “Why ya running?”

“There is nothing else to do.” But that was not true. Almost everyone else had found something productive to do. Elves were teaching people to read or working in the garden. The dwarves had all been repairing things earlier but now they were doing all sorts of things. Keeble was in the kitchen trying to make coffee. Other were cleaning and tinkering. Scree was down in the cargo hold with Gulch, Shardy and Peak, cleaning up after Stone’s hurried packing. The humans and the rest of the trolls were examining weapons and armor and talking about things Tuki didn’t understand. Even Inaki was busy showing the two apprentice navigators the basics of the skyglass. Perhaps that should have been Tuki’s job, but he wanted to run.

Talus was still by his side. “Why would ya want to run though? I reckon doing nothing’s much more fun.”

“I think better when I run,” Tuki said, watching as he approached the next dot on the wall then passed it by.

“Fair enough. If ya want to think.” They completed another lap and Talus stopped near the airlock. “Let me know when ya get there.”

Tuki nodded and increased his pace. He had spoken the truth—he did think better when he ran. His thoughts swirled in the wake of his passing and then fell into place behind, moving forward with the rhythm of his steps.

His first thought as he ran, was that trolls were not shy. No troll was shy, ever, as far as he could tell. With no fear or ego, as appeared to be the case, how could they be?

“So if Ruby was not being shy, what caused her to rush away after getting so close?” Tuki wondered aloud.

“Ruby? Shy?” Talus laughed.

Tuki had completed another lap without realizing. Talus had found something to drink and was sitting with Bones beside the clamped Loader.

“That’s three laps, Tuki. You set a record that everyone else can try to beat.”

Tuki kept on running, around the curve of the ship, past the dots on the wall, one by one. He wondered how high the troll could actually count.

Talus was right though, it was laughable to think Ruby was shy. But what else could it be? He did another three laps before giving up on that line of thinking. Next was something equally as strange—the idea of himself as a leader.

#

“What are you doing, Tuki?” Kim asked. Meledrin was standing by her side.

“I am running, Kim.” Tuki smiled as he went past. Bones and Talus had moved on long ago.

“Yes, I see that. Well, how about you stop?” She had to shout around the bend as Tuki continued to move.

“All right.” But he would do one more lap. He had been counting in base eight, so that one extra lap would complete his fourth full set.

When he reached the airlock again, Kim was waiting with her hands on her hips. “You can keep going if you like, but I thought you might like to come and see a bit of the kil’ini.”

Tuki looked up the hall, as if there might be something just out of sight around the bend that could snag his interest. Then he looked out the window at the grey green flesh of the kil’ini, as if there might be something out there that could snag his interest. “If you wish.”

“Up to you, buddy.”

“I will come.”

“Good, come on then.”

First came the problem of weightlessness. Tuki had watched people, trolls and dwarves mostly, throw themselves out into the nothing of the huge kil’ini chamber as they played games or inspected various systems on the ship, but it was a different thing to do it himself. The internal door of the chamber was out of sight around the curve of the ship so Kim and Meledrin both launched themselves at a wall. Once there, they gripped knobs of flesh, realigned themselves and launched again. Neither seemed as confident as others Tuki had seen, but showed no concern.

Still, he could not do it himself for a long time. He stood looking at the point where they had disappeared behind the bulk of the ship.

“Come on, Tuki. Haven’t got all day.”

Who says we don’t, Tuki thought in reply to the shout. Where else were we going to go? But he didn’t say it out loud.

“Come on. It’s easy.”

Easy for her to say. Tuki was somebody who liked solid ground under his feet and sky overhead. Or sky all around is acceptable as well, he decided, having become used to the idea of travelling between worlds.

“Hey, Tuki. What you doing? Want to play chess?”

“Umm... Ruby. Hello.” Tuki gripped the edge of the door, as if he might float away while he was not concentrating. As if Ruby might try to drag him away. “I cannot, thank you. I am going with Kim and Meledrin.”

The trollop looked around. “Where is they?”

Tuki pointed vaguely, though he knew the exact direction of the puckered door where they waited.

“You scared to jump?”

“No.”

“Don’t let me hold you up then. Kim’s likely to go on without you.”

“Yes. Right.” Tuki turned to look out the door once more. He could feel Ruby watching him.

“Just go nice and smooth, Tuki. You’ll be right.”

Tuki closed his eyes and stepped out into the nothing. He pushed off slightly and felt himself float. When he opened his eyes and saw that he was moving lazily towards the wall. He realized almost immediately that he would not make it. Like the space ship in the other universe, he would float in perfect stillness for all time. Kim and Meledrin were watching. Would they come to his rescue?

But they were not needed. Ruby had seen his plight and followed him out.

His smile at her arrival was short lived. She came right up near him and stopped. They were face to face, and Tuki felt sure that the full length of her body was touching him. For one heart beat, two, she stayed where she was and Tuki could taste her breath, then she gently pushed away with a hand on his chest.

“Now we are both stuck,” he said.

She smiled as if that was the whole idea but said, “No, we aren’t.” Twisting about slowly, the trollop put both her feet in the center of Tuki’s chest and smiled some more. “Ready?”

Tuki nodded. Ready for what?

But before the thought had fully formed Ruby ‘jumped’. She leapt off Tuki’s chest and the force of the action shifted them both. Tuki moved towards the wall, Ruby towards the ship. She smiled as she somersaulted through the air. “Will I see you when you get back?”

“Of course.” But he did not know if that was exactly what she meant. “Thank you, Ruby.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once he reached the wall, Tuki took a moment to get his bearings again, then, with a deep breath, launched himself towards Kim and Meledrin. Overcompensating for his last effort, he pushed too hard.

He knew that straight away, as he had known his problem earlier. Kim knew as well. Tuki watched as she shook her head and come out to meet him. They met in mid air and Kim grabbed at his arm. Her force and weight slowed him considerably, but hardly enough. Kim grunted when they hit the wall.

“I am sorry, Kim.”

“No. That’s fine.” Her eyes were watering. Her voice came out as a breathless croak. “Takes a bit of getting used to.”

“That’s not...”

“Come on, let’s keep going.” Kim motioned to a hurgon escort to lead the way. No translation was needed.

The rest of the journey was not too bad. They moved through passages that meant a wall was always within reach and no forceful maneuvers were required but Tuki was sure that, because of his clumsiness, the journey took longer than it should have. He had wondered what there would be to look at inside the kil’ini, but the wonders were never ending. There were hurgon, if nothing else. They wore clothes as bright as their armor and moved with distracted precision. They all seemed to be reading something, or talking to someone, or thinking of something vitally important as they moved about, but they never collided. They moved past each other as if in a dance. They only slowed when they saw Tuki and his companions, bumbling novices, ricocheting towards them. They moved aside and watched them pass without saying a word.

The halls were all different colors. Some seemed to have blood pulsing just below the surface. Some walls breathed. There were paired tentacles everywhere that the kil’ini constantly used to talk with the hurgon. And everywhere there were eyes watching him—near each pair of tentacles, in each intersection, in each small chamber, in each bend of the hall. There was not one place that could not be seen in the gaze of the shifting, purple eyes-on-stalks.

“Watch out for the gravity in this room, Tuki,” Kim said when they reached their destination.

He watched her hook her toes under the edge of the floor and step across the threshold. He tried to mimic her, and almost succeeded. His knee buckled slightly with the sudden onset of weight, but he remained upright and extricated his toes so he could go in further.

The bridge of the ship was nothing like that of the Hakahei. There were no windows and no chairs. The only thing that might have been controls were more of the tentacles.

On what appeared to be a large piece of flat bone at one end of the room, Tuki saw a picture drawn in light. As well as stars, other kil’ini were visible in the picture and Tuki knew enough to know that, even for them, there was an up and a down. There were a dozen of the creatures and they were all orientated in the same way, top down in the image. So, unless the kil’ini he was in was travelling upside down then the image was upside down.

Tuki said nothing as he continued to look. He half listened to the conversation between Meenu and Kim, with Meledrin in the middle.

“Why has Kim come here?” the hurgon asked.

“I want to know what’s going on, is all. I like to keep track.”

The other hurgon in the room seemed to pause in their tasks. The ever-waving tentacles went still for a second. Then everything was back to normal and Tuki wondered if he had seen anything at all.

“There have been difficulties.”

“Oh? Nothing major, I hope.”

“A kil’ini travelling in the flock has become injured. The flock has been slowed.”

The star pattern being projected onto the bone was worrying Tuki. He almost had the answer, he was sure, when something else intruded onto the image.

He gasped and everyone turned to look at him, except for the hurgon whose job it was to watch the image. All the tentacles around the room were waving madly.

Everyone started to speak at once. Meenu seemed to be having two conversations, one with words and the other with gestures.

“The other has come,” Meledrin said, though whether it was her own thought or the translation of what someone else was saying, Tuki didn’t know.

The huge spaceship that had chased them from Nexis and sailed ominously past while they were stranded in the other universe had returned. It sailed across the starscape and the camera followed to keep it in view.

The alien fired its weapons. Each one of the projectiles struck true, and it took only a couple, at most, to split each kil’ini asunder, spilling hurgon and equipment into space. Everywhere Tuki looked, the creatures were dying or winking out of existence—there one second, gone the next.

“We are about to shift to another universe,” Meledrin said softly, eyes riveted to the screen.

And then they were gone. The screen showed nothing but black. Or perhaps it showed nothing at all.

“Meenu says we should return to our ship,” Meledrin said. “It will be some time before we arrive at Earth.”

“Okay, then,” Kim said, “but tell her to keep us informed of any developments. And tell her we hope that her family hasn’t suffered too many losses today.” She stared at the black screen as if she could still see the huge alien ship and the half dozen kil’ini it had killed in just a few moments.

Tuki stared as well. The ship had appeared right amongst the kil’ini with an accuracy he would have found impossible to replicate. Power was something to fear. But power coupled with precision?

#

Tuki waited so long that he was about to turn and walk away when the door slid open and Ruby looked out at him.

“Tuki.” She smiled and pushed the door open a bit more. Tuki looked past her and saw Sandy sitting at the table with a radio or something similar plugged in her ear.

“I am not disturbing you, am I?”

“No, course not. We just never had a door before, so it took a while to work out what the banging was all about.”

“Oh, right.” He was ready to retreat anyway. The reason for his visit seemed silly now. And he was probably wrong.

“You wanna come in? We only got two chairs though.” She had a worried look on her face. “I think someone stole our other one.”

“Ummm... No, thank you.”

“What you want then? You wanna go for a run?”

Tuki smiled. “You like to run?”

Ruby shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Oh. Maybe some other time.”

“Sure. What then?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to somebody about something, and you said...”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? You don’t wanna come in though? You wanna talk here at the door?”

“I don’t know. It is silly, anyway.”

“What is?”

“Well... It’s just... I think we are going in the wrong direction.” He shook his head. “But it is just silly.”

“Why? Not why’s it silly—why you think we going in the wrong direction.”

“I saw the stars outside when I went with Kim. There was a screen and...”

“You never been in this part of space?”

He shook his head.

“You get a chance to look proper like?”

He shook his head again.

“So you don’t know where we is going?”

A shrug.

“And did you tell Kim?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have never been in this part of space, and I did not get a good chance to look, and... I don’t know.”

“Stars is your thing, right?”

He nodded. “I guess so.”

“Then you got to tell her.

“But what if I am wrong?”

“Look, Tuki, that ain’t your problem. What you got to do is tell Kim what you think. And tell her that you ain’t exactly sure.” Ruby came out of the room, grabbed Tuki by the hand and started to draw him down the hall. “You let Kim worry about what happens after that. It ain’t our concern until she says it is.”

“But what if I am wrong?”

“Like I said, you say you ain’t sure. You look on your skyglass thingy to see what you can find out. You investigate. You ask Inaki for help. But only after you tell Kim so she can start thinking about the problem as well.”

Tuki allowed himself to be dragged upstairs to the administration level.

Investigate in the skyglass? Why hadn’t he thought of that?

He didn’t need Ruby to drag him, but her hand was surprisingly soft in his.

14: Waiting

Scree was strapping himself into his weapons seat before Tuki finished the story. And he knew that this time not even Kim could come up with a reason why he shouldn’t thump some aliens.

Knowing that, he waited for her to tell him to stop. And he knew that he would, for long enough to listen at least.

“Don’t, Scree,” she said with a sigh.

Scree, hand on the button that would turn on his chair, turned to look at her.

“We have no idea where we are. We don’t even know what universe we’re in—we have no idea how to get back.”

“Keeble could works it out.”

Keeble wasn’t even on the bridge. Topper, sitting in the Engineering chair, shook his head. “From what I understand,” he said, “we would need to be able to hear the sound made by the gates to be able to duplicate them.”

Scree sniffed. “Kim said there ain’t no noise in space.”

“Not the sound. The magical ‘sound’.”

“Oh.” He’d known that but wasn’t thinking straight. Still a troll after all. “And you didn’t hear nothing when we went through?”

Topper shook his head.

“But don’t we know the sound of the gate used to get us back to our universe anyway? You heard that one.”

“Yes, but perhaps the sound doesn’t dictate where we go, but how far we go to get to the other universe. Or something. We really have no idea at this stage.”

Scree unbuckled his belt. “Flaming cats. How abouts I take some guys and go wring some necks then. Theys sure to tell us what we want.”

“No, Scree.” Kim sat back and put her head in her hands, as if it was all becoming too much. Again.

“Course not.” As he climbed back out of the seat he noticed Ruby watching him, looking him up and down as if seeing him for the first time. Scree hadn’t had sex in days, but the attention didn’t even raise his interest—not that sex was on her mind either. “So what does we do?”

“We wait. Tuki finds out where we’re going, if he can—at least there’s power in this universe. Or he tells us where we are whenever we get where we’re going.”

“Maybe we’re there already,” Ping said quietly. “How would we know?”

Palsamon was sitting in the navigation seat—he’d been studying the controls earlier—and set to work, looking as if he knew what he was doing. That didn’t last long. He centered the view on the skyglass but then obviously wasn’t sure what to do next.

Tuki nodded. “You were going right. You need to move out now though.”

Palsamon went back to work.

Scree paced.

“There is nothing to see,” Palsamon said.

“There is a lot to see,” Tuki said in reply. “See that—it is telling us of the found objects. The computer just cannot recognize anything.”

“Still in the other universe then,” Kim said, half to herself. “Could we start making maps of other universes though?”

Scree’s pacing took him beside Tuki, and he could see him nodding slowly. The lad suddenly began giving instructions but Palsamon was soon left behind and moved out of the way so Tuki could do the work himself.

“You can make more maps on there?” Scree asked.

Tuki kept working but nodded vaguely. “I think so. There are whole sections of the skyglass that have been left blank. A large portion of it.”

Scree watched as Tuki worked steadily. He pushed buttons carefully as if worried he’d break them, and fiddled with controls. Finally, he sat back.

“I need a name, Kim.”

“What? You already have a name.”

“No, for the universe. I found a menu that asked if I wanted to start a new map. I said yes, and it wants me to name it.”

“Ok. Umm... Well, you pick one.”

“But what if the people who live here already have a name for their universe?”

“Then we’ll change it over later. But for now... Just pick.”

“Very well. I will name it... I will name it Danyon,” he said and smiled. “Because a little while ago that village was my whole universe. So now it can be a real universe.”

“That’s a good name, Tuki.”

“It’s wonderful,” Scree said with a grunt. “But now what does we do?”

“We wait.”

“Great.” That was all they ever seemed to do.

#

“Scree?”

A month ago Scree would have woken in an instant and been ready to kill. A month ago he probably wouldn’t have been asleep at all.

“Meledrin used to bawl me out for not knocking,” he said. Quartz was standing in the doorway of his cabin.

“I knocked. You mustn’t’ve heard.”

Scree grunted in disgust. A month ago the trollop wouldn’t have gotten within a dozen meters without him smelling her. “What’s happening?”

Quartz shrugged. “Nothing. You tell me.”

“Nothing’s happening,” he said.

She came into the room, shutting the door behind her. “You wanna do nothing?” she asked. “Or you wanna do something?”

Scree rolled onto his back to look at her. She was slender, for a troll, and tall. She had large breasts and if she moved the zipper on her EVA suit one centimeter lower...

She smiled and licked her teeth as she sat down on the end of the big double bed. “All the trollops say you ain’t been ruttin’ with them since that first day with Crystal, so I was thinking maybe...”

Scree gave the idea some thought, but the fact that he had to think about it at all gave him the answer. “Nah, thanks anyway, Quartz.”

She sneered and rezipped her zipper. “Maybe I should send Gulch or Cliff in here. They more your thing?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you.”

“What’s likin’ got to do with it?” But she started to smile and rose to her feet. “You got your eye on the boss, don’t ya? Huh. Ruby said that but I didn’t believe.”

“What does Ruby know about anything?”

“She seeing lots of stuff recently. Got a head on her shoulders, that girl. Might be smarter’n you even.”

“If she was that smart she wouldn’t go around tellin’ you all this cat pissing stuff.”

“Boss won’t go for the likes of you. She’ll get herself that pretty young elf Suldon, I reckon.”

“You don’t know nothing about the boss then.” But he was worried she was right, and it must’ve shown on his face. Quart laughed as she left the room.

Sex is easy, Scree thought. No wonder humans have all those wars when they got all this other crap in their lives. He lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

When somebody approached his room a few minutes later, he was ready. It was a human. A man. Thorpe probably.

Who ever it was knocked.

“Yeah.”

Thorpe opened the door and stuck his head in. “We’re there.”

“Where?” Scree sat up in the bed, yawning and stretching. He thought that maybe the bed had something to do with his newfound ability to sleep. Never before had he slept on anything so comfortable.

“Somewhere.” He pushed the door the rest of the way open. “We’re a couple of thousand kilometers out from a planet.”

“Kil’ini?”

“Everywhere.”

“Come on then.”

The bridge was full of people. Too many people. Kim was trying to get them back down stairs but wasn’t having any luck. There were two trolls. Apparently they weren’t keen to use force and Kim wasn’t telling them anything.

Scree looked at the nearest person. It was Meledrin standing and staring out the window. Not a good choice. Next to her was a dwarf. Scree strode across, grabbed the dwarf, and threw him into the nearest crowd of people. That got their attention.

The victim quickly untangled himself and stood, ready to fight, until he saw who’d done the throwing.

“Two choices,” Scree said. “Sit down in the chairs and buckle up or get out.”

Nobody moved.

“If I haves to send a troll to make the decision for you, they won’t be helping youse to your seats.” Scree smiled nicely at his audience while Peak and Chasm cracked their knuckles.

Finally they started to move, slowly filling the seats surrounding the viewing well. While they arranged themselves, Scree strode around to the front. “And in future, you should obey Kim’s orders like your lives depends on it...” He smiled some more... “‘Cause maybe they does.”

Up the back, Meledrin was still standing.

“Why you still there?” Scree asked. “Sit down.”

The elf sniffed but didn’t argue. She didn’t sit in one of the gallery seats either. Quite predictably, she asked Penisari to get out of the Communications chair so she could sit down there.

Kim shook her head before Meledrin had finished the sentence. “How about you just sit down there somewhere, Mel. Peni is on duty now.”

Scree watched as Meledrin thought of protesting, but eventually she sniffed again and found herself a seat. Maybe the thought of a troll manhandling her towards the elevator helped.

“Why are you not sitting down, Scree? And why are they not?” She motioned to Chasm and Peak.

“I ain’t sitting, ‘cause I am giving the orders. And they ain’t sitting cause they guarding.”

With a glance at the weapons control chair, Scree wondered if he should sit down. But he looked up at the image in the dome. Even if they could get out of the mouth of the kil’ini, which wasn’t certain, there were too many others outside. Way too many.

“And now we waits,” he said.

#

Two hurgon floated in front of the window. Scree watched them silently. Most of the other spectators had left long ago, leaving only half a dozen other than those on duty.

A voice in Scree’s head told him that ten more hurgon, including Aunt Meenu, were waiting near the Level 3 airlock. A message came over the intercom a few seconds later.

“Meenu wants to talk to the boss,” Stone said.

Penisari quickly adjusted the controls so Kim could talk to the air lock. Kim could have done it herself, but the elves could do it quicker.

“Stone, tell Meenu to shove it up her arse.”

There was a moment of silence. “Suldon says that he don’t know exactly what that’s supposed to mean, but he ain’t gonna say it. And he don’t know if the hurgon have the right word anyway.”

“Well, just tell Meenu I don’t want to talk.”

“Right then.”

Scree waited for the reply. He was getting good at waiting.

Suldon’s voice, calm and clear, came over the radio, as if he was reporting on the weather. “Meenu says that if we prove to be more trouble than we are worth then the kil’ini will be asked to crush us.”

“And tell Meenu we’ll go down shooting.”

That was the stuff Scree liked to hear, though he doubted it would come to that.

Suldon again: “Shooting while inside the kil’ini mouth would not help in any way, for there would be a reflexive clamping of muscles that would crush us all the quicker.”

Kim shook her head and muttered quietly, “Of course there would.” She stabbed at the speaker button. “Ok then. I’m coming. But tell the bitch that I just got out of the shower, so I may be a while.”

“Pardon? You want me to...”

“Just tell Meenu to wait.”

“Very well.”

Scree followed Kim down stairs. He called in his mind for Blue Troop to meet them on Level 3. But Kim didn’t go there immediately. He found himself standing at the door to the Captain’s cabin as she sat on the corner of the bed.

“I just keep getting us into more and more trouble, don’t I?”

Scree thought about that then shook his head. “Trouble’s when you can’t get out of it. We gotten out of everything so far.”

“What if we don’t get out of this one though? We’re surrounded by enemies, millions—trillions—of kilometers from help.”

“So they our enemies now?”

Kim shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. Well, yes, obviously. We made a deal and they broke it. They obviously weren’t ever interested in a treaty.”

“What if they was but decided we couldn’t really help them after all. Us people with two ships between seven worlds.”

“What?”

“What if the T’Loop story was true? Just that they thinks they’ve now come up with a better plan?” Scree took a step into the room, then hesitated. After a moment he went and sat on the bed next to her.

“What will that give us?”

“It means there’ll be others out there willing to help if we makes the same offer to them that we made to the T’Loop.”

Kim nodded slowly. “Right,” as if she wanted to be convinced.

“T’Loop is a ‘great family’. They already gots it pretty good, really. What about all them minor families who ain’t getting anywhere? We got heaps of allies to choose from now.”

“We’ve just got to find them.”

“Right.” Scree smiled. “If Meenu wants us to go down to the planet, I says we do it. Then we see what we can see.”

Kim nodded again. “Let’s go then.” She didn’t sound sure but got to her feet.

The hurgon still floated outside the open airlock. If Scree had to guess he’d have said they were angry, moving and fidgeting as they were, but maybe that meant something else for them.

He stood beside Kim, toes hanging out over nothing, while Meenu made her greetings. Kim said nothing in reply for a long time. The hurgon started to fidget some more. Suldon was hardly any better. Finally, Kim spoke.

“What happened to our agreement?”

“It would not have been beneficial to the T’loop.”

“Yes, it would.”

“In the long term, perhaps, but without short term benefit, the long term may never be reached.”

“What?”

“The T’loop need assistance now.”

“And you think we’ll help you now?”

“That is not for you to decide. Kim’s agreement is not needed in this. Assistance will be given simply because hakans are in T’loop custody.”

“And if we don’t like being in custody?”

“Kim should do what must be done. Meenu will also do what must be done.”

“Do we help you if we’re dead?”

“No. But you do not want to die.”

Kim’s shoulders slumped minutely and Scree wondered if she was acting. He felt like pointing out that, if she was acting, subtlety might not help—the hurgon probably couldn’t read hakan body language.

“So what do we do?”

“Hakahei shall follow a guide light down to Hulgorn. That is all for the moment. There are thousands of kil’ini outside. Hakahei cannot kill them all.”

Kim took a deep breath. “Ok then. Let’s get this over with.”

15: Worst Case

Ping sat in the front row with Ari and Tess, watching Kim and Scree talk quietly as they waited for the rest of the crew to arrive. They had talked to the hurgon only recently—Ping tried to gauge how things had gone. Scree looked like he was having fun, which probably meant things were going to get interesting. Kim’s worried expression did nothing to ease the concern. Ping gripped Ari’s hand but found no comfort from the contact.

“All rights everyone, listen up.” Scree held up his arms for quiet, then stepped away to allow Kim to speak.

“We’re now prisoners of the T’loop family and will be landing on Hulgorn, as they’ve instructed. It seems our assistance was not going to help enough, or soon enough, so they came up with another plan.”

Several of the trolls and dwarves let everyone know what they thought about that, and what should be done, but Kim waited for them to fall silent.

Ping found herself gripping Tess’s hand as well.

“For now we’re going to do as they say, because it suits our purposes, as much as we can have any in this situation. We’re not going to fight back now, or cause any trouble at all, until we can see exactly where we stand.”

Ping wondered if Scree had agreed to this plan of action. Or inaction. Once, she’d thought she could tell what he was thinking because there were only a couple of thoughts to choose from. Now she didn’t know what she was thinking herself half the time.

“What are we going to do, do you think?” Ari whispered, squeezing Ping’s hand.

“I don’t know. Scree and Kim will come up with something.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then somebody else will.” Ping didn’t know who though, seeing nobody knew anything of the world they were heading towards. But then, nobody had known anything else a couple of weeks ago either.

“So,” Kim continued, “everyone just keep your head down, but be ready to act if we should need it.”

Ping thought Kim was looking for something inspirational to say, like all the great leaders from the tales. But apparently nothing came to her.

“All the officers to the bridge, the rest of you get strapped in.”

Ping stayed where she was until Tess gave her a nudge and motioned toward the lift.

“What?”

“The bridge.”

“Oh, yes.”

Apparently, a lot of people thought the best place to get strapped in was on the bridge. The 30 seats were already full when Ping arrived and more people were standing around as if a vacancy might present itself. Scree soon made it clear what he thought of that idea and the unlucky losers headed for the lift.

Ping took her seat beside Keeble and wondered what she was supposed to do next. Surely her skills wouldn’t be needed. Neither would Keeble’s, in the short journey they were about to undertake. She checked the read-outs for the two clocks. They were synchronized exactly. What else could she do?

“Let’s do this,” Kim said as she started the engines. “And don’t shoot anything once we get out there, Scree.”

Scree grunted in disgust and Ping smiled slightly. Not too long ago the troll would’ve been insulted by the idea that he wouldn’t kill any of the enemy, now he was insulted by the opposite.

“Do we have enough fuel to get down and back up again, Keeble?” Kim asked.

Ping checked the gauges.

“There’s enough for a while yet,” Keeble said.

Ping knew all the minor tanks were full of the ingredients the Americans had supplied.

“We’ll run out of hydrogen before anything else,” Keeble continued.

“We’ll worry about that once we get away from here.”

“That’s the way,” Keeble said sarcastically, “worry about it when the time comes.”

Ping shook her head. “Shut up, Keeble,” she said softly. “We can’t get any hydrogen now, so why complain about it?”

He stared at her but didn’t reply. Scree was staring as well. Ping blushed and checked her clocks.

The kil’ini opened its ‘mouth’ and Kim carefully maneuvered out into space.

Ping felt her own mouth gaping and closed it with a clacking of teeth. There were kil’ini everywhere, and each one seemed to have at least one eyestalk pointed in their direction. Some of the creatures were huge while others were hardly larger than the Hakahei. These smaller ones were clumped in groups that darted this way and that like shoals of fish. Each creature had at least three tentacles and they were waving furiously as if carrying out multiple conversations in their strange sign language.

Out in the open, Kim paused. The world was visible, a large grey smudge not far away, but to weave their way amongst the kil’ini would take all day. But, as if on some prearranged signal, the creatures started to move, clearing a path.

“All righty then,” Kim said.

Still, Kim made many fine adjustments to follow the curving path that was being offered. While Kim concentrated on working the controls, Ping watched the gauntlet of creatures. Each one was different and would be quite easy to recognize once you got to know them. Their eyes, huge and colorful, watched with piercing intelligence. Eyestalks swiveled to follow the Hakahei’s progress. And all the while, tentacles continued to wave.

“There are so many,” Ping said. She didn’t know how they were supposed to escape once they got down to the planet. With all these creatures above them they couldn’t sneak away. And to convince all of them that their departure was a good idea was unlikely.

“That just means theys easier to hit,” Scree said, keeping one of the kil’ini locked in his sights.

Hulgorn, the hurgon home world, was growing in the view-port. Ping turned to look at that, as if it was more reassuring. It was a dull, grey place. Dark, roiling clouds covered most of it.

“Do we know where we’re going?” Ping didn’t want to go down there at all. It looked a horrid place.

“Apparently some type of guide-light will start shining soon. We just follow it in.”

Keeble grunted. “If any light can get though those cloud.”

“Well, we’ll just go down until we’re under the cloud.”

As ping worried and chewed on her lip, Kim started to head directly towards the planet. She spun the ship so the bridge was pointing away, and went slowly in. A view of the clouds appeared in the dome.

Finally, a light did find a way through the clouds, coming in acutely from the ship’s west. Kim changed direction, working carefully at the controls, riding the beam of light down towards the ground.

They finally broke through the cloud cover and Ping gasped. As far as the eye could see, even from high up, was a vast, strange city. The clouds were not rain clouds at all, or not completely. It was smoke, spewing from thousands of huge chimneys and as many smaller, unrecognizable buildings.

“Is there a fire?” Scree asked.

“I wish,” Kim replied quietly.

Concrete and bricks and iron as far as the eye could see. Ping wanted to look away, but found it impossible. She did not know if she had ever seen anything so horrible.

It didn’t look any better as they got closer. There didn’t seem to be any trees at all. Buildings everywhere. No color. No relief.

Ten minutes later, Kim set the ship down in a large square, thumping awkwardly down onto the cobbles, and Ping went to the window to look. She could see three sides of the square and huge, drab buildings closed each in. One rose higher than the ship, a grey brick structure that showed only three windows and a single door in its length. A dozen streams of smoke drifted sluggishly upwards. Lights showed movement in the windows but the square remained quiet.

“Now what do we do?” Ping asked. But she already knew the answer to that. They waited. “Are we supposed to be friends of the T’loop family? Or are they just showing off the fact that they captured us?”

“I’m not sure,” Kim replied. “But we certainly won’t be acting too friendly. We don’t want there to be any confusion should potential allies be snooping around.”

Keeble grunted. “And how do we tell if the next allies are better than the last lot?”

“Well, theys can’t be much worse.”

“That’s very comforting.”

“Isn’t it though,” Kim said.

Ping returned to her seat and looked up at the view in the dome. Meledrin was switching between cameras. The ship was completely surrounded by buildings. The one behind them was the highest of them all. Dozens of windows glowed brightly. There were many doors as well. One reached from the ground almost to the fourth story and others were meters above the ground. Kidol, the giant birds, seemed to be coming and going from the roof in a steady stream as if a great many hurgon were being ferried in.

“What’s our plan?” Ping asked eventually,

“We don’t have one. We’ll just see what happens.”

“Yes, but... We have to have some sort of plan in case nothing happens. In case we can’t get allies or... Or if our allies want to know what we plan.”

“I don’t know—” Kim said.

“Then think of something,” Scree broke in. “Ping’s right. We need a fall back plan, just in case.”

“Okay. Jeeze.” Kim played with the thrust directional ball, spinning it on its stand. She didn’t say anything.

Scree grunted. “Everybody out,” he said. He got out of his chair and started to shoo everyone out of the gallery. “You stay,” he said to Captain Thorpe. “And you four.” Palsamon, Stone, Flint and Topper sat back down.

“How come they get to stay?” If not for the beard and gruff voice, the dwarf who said it might have been a miffed child. “I’ve been a Singer longer than Topper.”

“Once you can talk to a woman without nearly choking on the words you might get to stay too. Now move your stumpy legs out of here.”

“Why am I here,” Palsamon asked when the room had cleared of stragglers.

“An old head might think of things,” Scree said.

“I have less experience at all of this than anyone else.”

“That might help too,” Ping offered. She didn’t know where to start.

Apparently Topper did. “We need to know what we have, firstly.”

Keeble was nodding but Scree looked lost already. “We got whatever is on this ship.”

“At the moment,” Topper said, “but for how long? If the hurgon wanted to get on board, could they? I understand that the kil’ini can damage the ship, but can they do it from space? On Sherindel the hurgon had those suits of armor and simple explosives. Is that the best they can come up with, or do they have better weapons back here?”

Ping smiled. Topper didn’t really know where to start at all but, like all the dwarves, he thought better out loud and in company. If somebody just started talking, others would usually follow.

“Why would they keep their best weapons at home when they’re fighting a war?” Kim asked.

“Because they can’t fit them on the kil’ini or those bats?” Keeble offered. “Because the batteries to run them won’t fit?”

Scree was nodding slowly. “I think we gots to assume that they don’t have better weapons. Or at least they don’t have ones that can get them into the ship.”

Meledrin raised an eyebrow. “And why do we have to assume that?” She was scanning the radio frequencies, searching for anything.

“Because if they can gets into the ship easily then we got nothing.”

Ping didn’t agree. “But if we assume that they can’t get in here then what happens if they do? Perhaps we should assume that they can so we’ll be ready for it.”

“She’s right, Scree,” Kim said. “We plan for the worst.”

“Well, the worst would be ifs we are all taken off here and put in cells.”

Topper nodded. “So anything that might be useful to us—weapons, food, lamps—we put them somewhere where they won’t be taken or destroyed. Down in the hold, maybe. Or in the Grav Field ducting.”

“Rights. Somewhere where we can get to it quickly.”

“And the hummers,” Ping said.

“What, we hide them?”

“Sort of. We make sure that they don’t give away their secrets without need. And we make sure that, if we are split in two groups, we have one sort of hummer in each group, just in case.”

“The trollop is good.” Flint smiled. Ping blushed slightly while the troll, smoothing down his moustache, continued. “And that would mean that we keep the radios in our head a secret as well.”

“Cuto already knows,” Meledrin said, “about both the radios and the Singing.”

“Then we hope he doesn’t think of mentioning it to anyone.”

“Whatever we are to do,” Meledrin said, “we need to decide quickly.”

Ping looked up at the image floating overhead. A group of hurgon, some armored, others wearing what might have been ceremonial robes, were walking across the huge, rough cobbles of the square.

“Shit. Okay. Ping, you’re in charge of getting stuff hidden. Chasm and Topper will help. Meledrin, you’re going to keep scanning the radio to see what you can find out.” She drummed her fingers on her console. “Tuki, you’re going to protect the skyglass.”

“Me? But—”

“We’ll split Blue Troop—three stay with Tuki, two come with me. Stone, tell Cliff he can start a war if needs be, but make sure the hurgon don’t get the skyglass.”

“Course.”

“Get them to try to restrain themselves though.”

The troll merely nodded.

“Meledrin, you’re in charge.”

“Very well.”

It didn’t look as if the elf was worried one way or the other, but Ping wondered how Meledrin would’ve reacted if Keeble was left in charge. Probably she would not take advantage of her position anyway, being happy enough to have the title.

“What about the rest of us?” Keeble asked.

“A group will be going out there with me to see what we can find out.”

“Who will that be?”

#

Ping stood by the door on Level 9 as Peak piloted the Lander down to the ground. She stayed where she was, watching silently. After touching down, the Lander’s passengers—ten in all—climbed out and confronted the hurgon. Ping couldn’t hear what they said, for the world was alive with all manner of clattering and banging, hissing and scraping. And it smelled as bad as it looked and sounded. Each breath stung the back of her throat. Her eyes watered.

She might well have stayed there all day but Gulch pulled her back from the door when Peak returned the empty Lander to the hold. Nearby, Chasm pressed the button that closed the door and they were left in relative quite.

“Stone says we supposed to be moving stuff?”

Ping didn’t reply. Typical of a troll, she thought. Their friends outside were already forgotten. It wasn’t Chasm’s job to watch them, so she didn’t. She got on with other things. Ping wondered how they could be so single minded in all the things they did.

Chasm sighed at the lack of response. “What we moving? Where to?”

Ping shook her head to dispel the last vestiges of the outside world and looked around, as if the answer might be among the packing crates. Quite possibly it would be—she was in charge of that part of the operation, after all. “Useful things,” she said.

“Oh, good. That’s all right then.”

Ping tried to get herself thinking straight. The only way she could help Kim was to make sure everything she had to do was done. “We have to pretend the hurgon can get into the ship any time they please, so we need a hidden supply of food and weapons and... stuff.”

16: Grey and Forlorn

Keeble sniffed at the air but the only smell he could distinguish was that of bird shit. The kidol seemed to be one of the main forms of transport so that was hardly a surprise. He could see their dark shapes crossing the sky in never ending lines. He watched them for a moment before turning to look at his more immediate surroundings.

Out in the open, and without the benefit of magnifying cameras, the square was huge. So, not all that immediate at all.

“Half a kilometer to a side?” Keeble asked softly.

Tasko nodded in reply.

The buildings were larger than they’d looked as well. The main one could’ve housed the entire population of Tab cavern with room to spare.

But Suldon had finished translating the greetings and things were getting started.

“Have any weapons been brought?” the hurgon leader asked, eyeing the trolls up and down.

Kim smiled for a while in reply. “Maybe.”

“The T’loop family has offered no harm.”

“And we haven’t threatened to use a weapon.”

“The T’loop wish for cooperation.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you kidnapped us.”

“The Hakahei voluntarily entered Lisa’lee’la to be transported.”

“Yes, but not to here. We were supposed to be going to Earth.”

“No such contract was entered in to.”

“We had a verbal agreement.”

“Verbal agreements are worth nothing.”

“We’ll keep that in mind in our future dealings.”

“Will Kim come?”

“What for?”

“To speak of matters further.”

“This is a nice spot.”

“Air toxicity is high today—long term comfort cannot be assured.”

Keeble looked around, wondering if what she said was true. The air was thick with smoke or haze that didn’t taste good, but was it any worse than going to places-unknown with the enemy? He knew Scree, Sandy and Flint didn’t have weapons—where would they hide them in the EVA suits—but that wouldn’t stop them from getting violent if they felt the need. If they stayed here, support was within reach if required. The three trolls seemed to be having the same thoughts. They didn’t look exactly nervous, but it was obvious they didn’t like the chances of keeping everyone safe if they went somewhere else. The beads in Sandy’s hair clattered quietly as she constantly scanned their surroundings, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“We’ll go with you,” Kim said eventually.

“Very good. Follow, please.”

Keeble hung about at the rear of the group with the other dwarves; Tasko, Bargle and Nina. Bargle was only young but as keen as a cold wind. Nina was... Keeble shook his head. He hadn’t even bothered waiting for Kim to tell him he needed to choose a dwife in the group, he’d just done it. Nina was quiet and dependable and knew her place. She wore a stiff linen dress down to the ground and a scarf tied over her head.

“You two keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks interesting,” he said. Tasko would know what to do. “Any little hint of technology might be enough to give us ideas.”

“Will do.”

“Yes, Keeble.”

The wall of the huge building was rough and dirty with all kinds of crazy lines, but the main door was fitted perfectly and opened without a sound. The lines inside were hardly any straighter, but the overall construction was still impressive.

A huge hall, twenty-five meters wide and fifty long, confronted them. Carved colonnades down either side seemed to be holding back all manner of strange equipment—stone assemblages, metal constructs, timber frames. Some were simple designs and Keeble could immediately discern the point. Those he dismissed. Others he could not begin to fathom.

Nina was muttering to herself. Tasko had stopped to look at something and had to be herded forward by a hurgon guard.

Bargle was almost laughing. “A stone crulingas,” he said, before the guard was nudging him forward as well.

Keeble looked, and the lad was right, but why would they even have bothered? He continued to look at the paraphernalia as he went, but it was all either beyond him or beneath him.

“What do you make of that?” Tasko asked, pointing to an array of metal rods.

“I have no idea.”

Kim might’ve known what some of the things were, but she wasn’t even looking. Keeble grunted and continued forward as slowly as he was allowed.

There was a strange bicycle with three wheels and chunky, rusting gears. There was a blue, glass cube. There was a big, curved bow with brown fletched arrows.

At the end of the hall, a door swung silently open to reveal a shorter, narrower passage. There was a set of stairs leading into each wall and half a dozen more doors. They were led straight on. Through the next door, a small group of aliens had gathered beside what appeared to be a steam powered train. It was a huge, hulking affair of boilerplate, iron and huge rusting bolts. Smoke dribbled slowly from the smokestack, filling the upper half of the room with an impenetrable fug. The ceiling might have been vaulted like the last, or just barely out of Flint’s reach.

“Where are they taking us?” Keeble asked Kim.

Kim didn’t know. She looked to Suldon and the elf asked. He listened impassively to the hurgon’s reply. “Deeba says we are currently standing in Lakeena Hub, one of the main transportation centers of the city. Twenty-three train lines, twelve canals, twenty major highways and five skyrail glides all meet within five kilometers of this place. There are also twenty courtyards, such as the one where we landed, that were designed to hold construct-spacecraft.”

“What spacecraft?” Keeble asked. “I didn’t think they had any.”

Suldon spoke to the hurgon again. “Currently the hurgon have no ships that can make landfall, but the Fen’dai have, with the help of kil’ini, been assembling ships in space that they hope will one day have the capability. Deeba does not think very highly of these craft.”

Keeble eyed the steam train. “They’ve made spacecraft?” he asked.

“Apparently.”

The hurgon were motioning them all towards the train. They held their ground when Kim baulked at the invitation. “How about you just answer the original question, Suldon,” she said. “Where the hell are they taking us?”

Either the elf had forgotten the answer, or had never actually been told. He spoke to Deeba again. “We are being taken to the central compound of the T’loop family. It is not far.”

Keeble didn’t know why Kim hesitated. With a shake of his head, he strode onto the train. There were no seats but wooden boxes had been arranged in rows for the occasion. He sat down near a window and tried to get comfortable.

“Keeble, what are you doing?” Kim asked when she sat down by his side.

“What does it look like?”

Everyone else had come aboard and were finding boxes to sit on.

“But what if I—”

“What if you didn’t want to get on the train?” Keeble said with a sneer. “What else were you going to do? Maybe apologize and go back to the ship? Or we could sit on the floor out there and wait for the world to collapse?”

“That isn’t the point.”

“It never is. There’s always another point that people can’t see.”

The train started to move away and Keeble discovered he was facing backwards. “Some decisions have already been made, Kim. Don’t fight them.” He spun about on his box to face the other way.

For more than fifteen minutes the train moved between rough brick walls, so there wasn’t anything to see anyway. Eventually they broke out into the clear. Or what passed for clear on Hulgorn. It wasn’t immediately obvious if it was night or day. Grey light seeped around corners to give everything an eerie hue. One building looked much like the next, old and surely large beyond need and sensible architecture.

Watching through the soot smeared window, Keeble was reminded of the bars in Tab cavern where all the old dwarves gathered to sit with their ale and their bitter, lonely silence. Buildings leaned tiredly against each other, grey and forlorn. Every second structure had smoke streaming from one orifice or another. Crumbling fences protected doors that were not worth the effort. There were probably a million stories to tell, but nobody really wanted to talk or to listen.

The train grumbled past a fallen building. The iron frame still stood in some places, the bones of a rotting carcass.

“Meledrin would hate this place,” Keeble muttered. He hated it as well.

A crane, sitting on the one visible patch of bare ground, was frozen in its moment of glory, a huge section of wall overflowing its rusting bucket. Excavation equipment, hulking beasts, loitered in the rubble nearby. It all seemed to have been there a very long time.

A line of lights slid by overhead and Keeble craned his neck to look.

“Did you see that?” Keeble asked when the lights were gone from sight.

“I did,” Nina said, ducking her head to examine a crease in her dress. “Perhaps it was one of the ‘skyrails’ the hurgon mentioned.”

“Perhaps.” But if it was then the ‘glide’ that held it aloft had been invisible.

Keeble looked at the sky again and when he looked back down, they were in another place entirely. The buildings here were smaller, though still as high. They packed them in, shoulder to shoulder, along the side of the railway. Construction was still slightly haphazard, as if a secondary concern, and the soot-grey color scheme still dominated. There was no color beyond the diffracted light in ancient, rippled windows. No trees, no paint, no small patch of cleanliness. There was no moon overhead, just filtered greyness.

“This place is dead,” Keeble said. He turned to look at Kim, who sat silently by his side. She was staring out at the world in horror.

#

Keeble stared glumly as they huffed along the edge of a huge quarry, carved out of the middle of the city. What was the use of all the industry and work if it didn’t look good, or feel good? He’d recently said that the task was the point of what dwarves did. But he now knew that was only half true. The task was important, but so was the end result. It might not be vital to the world, but it still had to add something, even if it was merely beauty.

The quarry disappeared into the gloom, replaced by more buildings that might have been the same ones they’d passed half an hour ago. Keeble wished for just one to be set apart from the others.

Apparently, Hulgorn the city covered almost a third of Hulgorn the world. The buildings dipped their crumbling toes into the oceans and swamps and rivers, creeping a little further out every year.

“Deeba does not seem to care about the world at all,” Tamidilin said softly. The elf was sitting with Suldon and Nina. “The world means nothing, beyond being property to be bought and sold if the need arises and the profits are high enough. It’s not as if their affection is for the hurgon people if what Cuto says is correct. They only care for their family.”

Tamidilin shook her head. “There are 54 great families, if I have the math right, and 207 lesser families.” She looked at Suldon, as if he might be better at the math than she. Which was possible. “Some of those minor families are subsidiaries of the Greats, bought out or locked into contracts. And there are thousands of clans that are ‘worthless’, scrabbling in the footsteps of others just to make it through each day.”

“Wonderful,” Kim said, “we find ourselves amidst a loving, caring race. We shouldn’t have any problem at all convincing them to help us when they won’t even help their own people.”

“We do not appeal to their kind hearts, Kim,” Suldon replied. “We appeal to their greed.”

“And what happens if we can’t pay up?”

Keeble beat Suldon to one of Kim’s favorite lines. “Worry about that when the time comes.”

Kim shook her head but gave a slight laugh. The train rattled on.

Eventually they pulled in at a large, brightly lit station and turned away from the main track onto a small siding, as if preparing to stay for a while.

When they exited the carriage, Keeble could see that more care had been taken in the construction of this building. Most of the lines were square, corners and trims were finished, but it still seemed to be done with a complete lack of imagination. A row of squat, plain columns supported the roof. Grey floor tiles butted shoulders so tightly that they were all but indistinguishable from each other.

“One focus tile every now and then is all it needs,” Bargle muttered. “It would make so much difference.” Bargle had not even finished his apprenticeship, and he could see it.

“We are to go this way.” Suldon pointed towards a door.

Half a dozen armored hurgon stood guard, swiveling noisily from side to side as they scanned for trouble. Keeble wondered how long it would take Scree, Flint and Sandy to kill them all, or at least make it so they weren’t a threat.

Beyond the door were half a dozen more guards in more of the same armor—mustard yellow with a cross on the front. They stood in embrasures, cloaked in shadows that made them appear more dangerous than they probably were. They did look sinister and evil though, which probably wasn’t a trick of the light.

“The square where the Hakahei is currently located is on the edge of the T’loop Compound. We are now near the center,” Suldon translated for Deeba. “It is the sixteenth largest compound in area, and the twenty-eighth in population. Over 10,000 family members live here permanently. Deeba seems very proud of that—an average sized family, but a powerful and rich one. They own much of Lapenti—though minor families are contracted to do most of the work on that world—and have compounds on two more worlds.”

Beyond the guards, the hall seemed to go on forever. Doors, labeled with incomprehensible writing, were randomly spaced on each side. There were no windows. There were no decorations.

“We are being taken to see the Grandmother and Grandfather,” Tamidilin said, as if she expected nothing else.

One door led to a huge elevator. The entire group fitted in and hardly seemed to fill one corner. A hurgon manipulated a lever the size of Scree’s leg and the room started to climb, clanking and rattling as if there were a dozen rusty cogs about to fall away. Keeble thought it might have been quicker, and safer, to use the stairs.

The lift eventually shuddered to a halt, hissing like one of the hurgon suits of armor.

The room they entered was a stark contrast to the ones they’d seen before. The stone walls were covered with bright, narrative tapestries—peaceful idyll, the coming of the hakans, kil’ini reaching down from the sky, views of space. The ceiling was a low lattice of stained timber interwoven with colored strips of cloth, while the floor was covered in thick, luxurious carpet. A red stripe down the center of the room led twenty-seven meters to a raised platform.

Keeble stopped when the rest of the group did, just outside the lift, between two stylized plants formed from cold, polished iron. A hundred hurgon turned to look, almost as one. To Keeble, the hurgon did not look like nobles attending a ball or a royal presentation. They looked like a council of war. And, as Deeba led the group forward again, Keeble had the distinct impression that hakans would always be the enemy. Fifty thousand years of grudge didn’t go away in a couple of days for these people.

Keeble shifted slightly, nudging Nina out of the way, so he could see past the front of their little procession. On the platform ahead, two wrinkly old hurgon were leaning back against T-shaped objects—it was the closest Keeble had seen any of them come to sitting. They wore yellow and red robes, with soft hats that flopped down near their shoulders. The Grandmother and Grandfather didn’t look all that impressive.

“Meledrin says we got trouble,” Scree said without breaking stride. He managed to sneer at the nearest aliens at the same time.

Keeble thought that went without saying. Kim kept getting them into trouble and Scree just kept following, possibly because he thought her trouble was more fun than the trouble he’d get into on his own. But he wondered how Meledrin knew.

“What sort of trouble?” Kim asked.

“About a thousand hurgon in the square arounds the Hakahei, all looking likes they want to get in.”

Keeble grunted. The ship has problems. Oh.

“Shit.”

“She wants to know whats she should do.”

“How the hell should I know? Tell her to get a council together if she must.”

Scree shook his head. “You think Meledrin is in my head asking for advice about how to tell people what to do? She don’t know what to do because she don’t know our situation. Does she let them in so we ain’t killed? Or does she tell them to go skin a cat.”

“I take it you’re paraphrasing?”

“What?”

Kim sighed. “Tell her to hold the ship for now. We’ll let her know if anything changes.”

“You’re the boss.”

“And just why is that? I keep forgetting.”

Over the next couple of minutes, Keeble discovered that he rather liked having Suldon translating everything just a few words behind the conversation. It allowed him to take in what was being said without actually feeling involved.

He didn’t know exactly why he had been brought along on this little jaunt, but it certainly wasn’t to take part in conversations such as this.

Eventually Kim stopped talking to the Grandparents. Deeba motioned her back towards the lift. Kim hesitated for a moment, examining the Grandmother, before nodding and going where she was directed. If Keeble had been paying more attention, he might’ve known what was going on, but all he could do was follow. In the lift he asked. Suldon answered.

“Grandfather Cinda is going to see if an emergency meeting of the Great Council can be called so Kim can address them.”

“Don’t see that happening,” Tasko said, though he had been paying no more attention than Keeble.

Suldon nodded agreement. “I believe that Kim is of the same opinion. But at the moment we can do naught but comply.”

The elevator didn’t descend all the way to the ground before it stopped and the doors rattled open. Scree led the way out, checking all around before allowing anyone else to exit. The hurgon didn’t like that much, but Keeble doubted any of them would call Scree to order.

“Where are we going again?” Kim asked their guide.

“Rooms available for the hakans until a meeting can be arranged,” came the translation.

It was obvious why Kim had asked. They found themselves at the junction of two long, drab hallways. The floors were bare stone with rutted paths worn down the center. The walls were rough and bare. The doors—Keeble could only see two from where he stood—were no better.

The hurgon said something and beckoned for them to follow.

“It wants us to follow,” Suldon said.

Keeble grunted and fell into step behind Kim and the two elves. Scree was out the front, with Flint and Sandy bringing up the rear.

“Deeba apologizes and says that the rooms are very small,” Suldon said.

Four guards broke from the trailing group and hurried forward to open four different doors. Kim was already shaking her head. “We’ll stay together.”

Suldon quickly translated. “Deeba says that will not be possible, the rooms are too small to comfortably accommodate ten people.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to be uncomfortable then.”

“Deeba will not allow it, Kim.”

“Well...” Kim crossed her arms. Keeble knew the look—she was getting stubborn.

But Tasko had moved to one of the walls and was standing with his hand against it.

“It doesn’t matter very much, where they put us. We’ll be able to leave whenever we want.”

“What?”

“The walls are real stone—solid stone. Keeble can Sing his way out whenever he wants. I could too, I suppose.”

“But the guards. He won’t be able to cross the hall.”

Keeble nodded and was looking from one side of the hall to the other. “Two rooms on each side... Just make sure the trolls are on my side—or at least two of them are. I can let them out and they can worry about the guards.”

Kim chewed on her bottom lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. Ok then, let’s do it.” She examined the group. “Scree in my cell so I can talk to the others. Flint and Sandy with Keeble. And we won’t take no for an answer on this one. The rest of you guys go where you like.” She sighed. “Come on then.”

17: Murmurings

There may not have been bars on the door but Kim decided it was definitely a cell. She sat on a cupboard and stared at the ceiling.

“How long do we wait, do you think?” She looked at both Scree and Bargle, her cellmates, but it was Scree’s answer she wanted to hear. Bargle seemed unsure as to how he had actually ended up locked in with the two of them.

“How long does we wait for what?”

“To see if they really are going to get us a meeting with the council.”

Scree laughed. “We go as soon as we is ready.”

“But—”

“There ain’t going to be no meeting. If they wanted a meeting then we would’ve gone to Earth.”

Kim sighed. He was right, of course, but she wanted the meeting. She didn’t want to keep fighting. “What if—”

“If these T’Loop let us out into the real world where we can talk with anyone then they risk their advantage in this whole game. We might get away. We might find some friends elsewheres. They keep us hidden and they can show us off to demonstrate their power, or maybe they’ll say we’re their allies and we’s coming back to get their enemies.”

He was right. He was right. She knew he was. “So what do we do?”

“We finds someone who want to change the rules of the game, not just improve their position in the current ones.”

“And how do we do that?”

Scree shrugged. “Ideas is up to you. I just—”

Kim laughed. “You just thump people, I know. But for a guy who just thumps people, you come up with a lot of ideas yourself.”

Bargle cleared his throat and Kim turned to look. “Yes?”

“These hurgon have radios, right?”

“Right.”

“So they might be talking to each other on the radio. And we might be able to get an idea about who’s pissed off if we listened in.”

Kim smiled. “Right. Well done, Bargle.”

He smiled at the praise and continued. “So, we get the elf witch to start listening in.”

“The elf witch? Meledrin? Should I tell her you said that?”

Bargle shrugged. “Why should I care?”

“Scree...” But it seemed Bargle did care. He looked slightly shocked, as if thinking Kim was going to get Scree to pass on the information. “Scree, get Meledrin to start listening in. Then let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Whats?”

“Tell Mel then get Keeble to bust us out of here.”

“Right.” He went blank for a moment. “Sandy wants to know, do we want them hurgon to think we’s still locked up?”

“Umm... can we do that? Yeah, sure we do. Why not.” It might be good for amusement value, if nothing else.

The wait seemed interminable, especially seeing Kim couldn’t work out what the plan actually was.

“Are we going or what?” Keeble asked a few minutes later. The dwarf’s head, covered in grey dust, had appeared in the middle of the floor. He rested his elbows on solid ground and dusted at his beard. It was a very disconcerting sight though she could see the magical hole now she knew it was there.

“Someone could have fallen through that, Keeble.”

He was smiling broadly as he Sang—the air was thick with the sounds. “I told Scree what was happening,” he Sang.

“And just how did you know where the center of the room was?”

“For Whistler’s sake, woman, I can measure.”

“Keeble...” Scree said.

The dwarf sighed. “Yes, be polite, I know. You’re as bad as Flint.”

Nobody moved.

“So are we going?” Keeble looked at Kim.

“Of course.”

“Good. I’m standing on a table and a box here—it isn’t all that stable.”

“We’ll just lower ourselves down and someone down there can make sure we don’t fall.”

“Right you are.” The dwarf’s head disappeared.

Bargle was closest and after a moment of hesitation, he slipped down into the floor.

Scree motioned for Kim to go next. She crawled carefully back and down into the hole while Scree kept guard and held onto her arm. She was lying on her stomach, legs hardly visible, when two strong hands grabbed her around the waist and helped guide her feet down to the box. As Keeble has said, it wasn’t stable, but the hands kept her steady.

Kim ducked into the clear air of the lower room and Sandy smiled at her.

“Right?” the trollop asked.

Kim nodded.

Scree came down next and didn’t need any help. “We right?” he asked. It was a question for everyone, but Kim felt his eyes on her.

“Of course.” She drew a picture on the table. A dirty grey powder covered almost everything. “They should hire a cleaner.” He was still watching.

“One more group,” Keeble Sang. “I’ll get them.”

“You two go with him.”

The dwarf shifted the focus of his song and used it to punch a hole through the wall. A rain of mortar settled to the floor.

Flint and Sandy disappeared through the wall with Keeble between them.

“Now what do we do?” Kim asked nobody in particular as she leaned back against the timber wall—it was probably worth a fortune. “Where do we go? Who do we talk to?”

Nobody had an answer.

“Does Meledrin have anything to report?”

A pause while Scree asked.

“Meledrin ain’t there, Peni is. She says there are ‘murmurings’, but doesn’t know where froms or who bys.”

“Shit.” Kim drummed her fingers against the edge of the table. What was there to think about? “Ok. Tell her to keep working on it. And she can talk to them if it helps.”

“What are we going to do?” Nina asked, while the troll relayed the information.

“We’ll just play it by ear.”

“Pardon?”

“We’ll make it up as we go along.”

“Oh. Dwarves don’t like that very much.”

“Yeah, neither do elves, but it’s the thing that both humans and trolls do pretty well.”

Keeble stepped back through the wall with his enlarged party. Tasko and Suldon nodded greetings.

Elves and dwarves were so similar in so many ways that it just made their differences more compelling. Neither race ad-lib very well, but they still took everything in their stride, though for different reasons. Elves handled changing circumstances because it would appear undignified to complain or scream or run around pulling their hair out. Dwarves handled it because the pressure just bounced off them as they rampaged through life oblivious to most things except whatever they had set their mind on. They concentrated on the small things while the big things carried on without them.

Kim wished she was in their situation. Being able to deal with changing circumstances meant first acknowledging them, then grabbing them by the scruff of the neck.

“So, we’re looking for dissidents,” she said. “They’ll probably be poorer hurgon from smaller families.”

“Let’s get out of here first,” Scree said, “and then see what we can find.”

“Right. You’re up then, Scree. Lead on.”

“How about we see if we can go straight down?”

Kim nodded and Keeble started his Song again, waving people away from a spot in the center of the room. Scree and Flint chose Suldon to check the room below. They grabbed his ankles and lowered him into the floor.

“All clear,” Suldon said when he was hauled back up. He straightened his hair. “It seems to be a library.”

“How fars to the floor.”

The elf gestured upwards. “I believe the room is the same height as this one.”

“Nothing below us?”

“There is not.”

“Right.” And without further ado, Scree stepped into the hole and fell through to the level below. He didn’t make a sound. Sandy went a moment later, hair beads clacking.

Kim, watching the hole, waited tensely for them to return. She jumped when Sandy’s head reappeared. “We’ve got two tables under here now. I’m standing.”

“Right, go dwarves.”

Nina went first, creeping towards the edge of the hole and then lowering herself carefully. Sandy helped the dwife, though when their turn came, the other dwarves brushed her offered assistance aside.

When Kim eventually climbed down from the tables in the library she looked around in wonder. There were row after row of books, thousands of them from floor to ceiling. Most were the size of the thick, chunky encyclopedias she knew from home. She pulled one of the nearest down and opened the huge stamped-leather cover. The writing was as chunky as the book, made up of boxes with strategically placed dots. She didn’t know where to begin. That wasn’t her job though. She put the book back on the shelf and found a couple of small ones, hardly larger than a normal paperback, though still heavy with patterned leather.

She gave one to each of the elves. “Take these. You may be able to work something out from them.”

Tamidilin dubiously looked at the one she had been given. “Perhaps,” she said, “though with a context—”

Kim shook her head. “Yeah, I know, without a context it’s hard, but we have to start somewhere, right?” They should have gotten Cuto to teach them how to read. That would have been the place to start.

Scree was at a door. He had it open a crack and was peering out. “Where to now?”

Kim looked at Keeble.

“This is the ground floor,” the dwarf said.

“How do you know?”

“There’s solid rock below us.”

“Do we want to tunnel the rest of the way out then?”

Keeble shook his head. “The stone on this planet is very dense. It is tiring for me to Sing it. We can continue to go through the walls if needs be but...”

Kim nodded. “All right then. Let’s use more ordinary means for now and save your Singing for an emergency. We don’t want to have to carry you around.”

Suldon nodded. “I am more concerned about being trapped within the stone.”

“There’s that too.”

They moved quickly and quietly and didn’t meet anyone until they’d made their way back to the train station. Kim didn’t know whether Flint was deliberately heading in that direction or if it was just an accident. They congregated in a small storeroom to plan their next move.

“I think we should steal the train,” Bargle said, dreamy look on his face. Keeble and Tasko both nodded agreement.

“Don’t be stupid guys,” Kim replied. “It’s a train. It’s stuck on track. They’ll be able to follow us. In fact they can make us go where they want because they control the switches.” All three of them looked slightly sheepish.

“There are lots of hurgon out there,” Scree said, motioning to the door and the train station beyond.

“Well, Keeble, do you know how far it is to the outside?”

The dwarf shrugged. “I can sense one more wall beyond this one. There may be others, but I can’t tell.”

Kim looked around, hoping to find an obvious answer. As usual, she wasn’t having any luck. “So you can Sing some more?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s do that then.” Just keep moving.

The trolls moved barrels and boxes to clear the wall, then Keeble did his thing.

Kim watched as a peg hammered into the other side of the wall found itself without support. The peg—and the cloak that was hanging on it—fell to the floor and the three hurgon in the room slowly looked around. The trolls raced through the hole and clobbered them before they could investigate. Scree had the door to the platform locked before Keeble stepped through the wall.

“Next,” Keeble said, without even slowing. Flint and Sandy were ready.

18: The Wrong Way

Meledrin switched off the camera when Kim and her small party disappeared through the door and wondered which tasks she should undertake next. After a moment she switched the camera back on, in case her companions were to return, then sat and looked around again.

Stone was reclining in the gallery with his feet resting on the seat in front. From all appearances he had settled in for the day.

“What is it that your troop is doing, Stone?”

He did not turn to look. “They’re guarding. One at each compass point looking out the windows.”

“And what is it that you are doing?”

“Co-ordinating.”

Meledrin studied the troll’s back, as if the muscles and the EVA suit would somehow reveal if he were being facetious. “Are you aware of the method for controlling the cameras from Scree’s chair?”

“I can control that from there?”

“Of course. You can do nothing with the picture in the dome, the well, or in other screens as Kim, Tuki and I can, but you can control what is on Scree’s screen.”

“Show me.”

It was a simple process that the troll learned quickly enough and he began switching between the various views as if the hurgon were going to sneak up on them that very moment.

“Can I see the cameras inside the ship too?”

“There are no cameras inside.”

“Yes there is. I saw them. Thorpe told me what they were.”

Meledrin was about to shake her head but restrained herself. If Stone said he had seen a camera then he probably had. “I am unsure. I will check.” She returned to her seat. She had checked all the buttons on her console and knew what they all did so... But one of the buttons had changed the view on her screen to simple blackness. She had thought a camera was broken—though she had neglected to mention this fact to a dwarf. She pressed the button again, and was given the same view as before. This time, she checked the small readout that told her what camera she was looking through. Tool Storage—Level 7. With a sniff, she pressed the buttons that changed the camera view. There were more cameras inside the ship than out.

“There is a button located near the camera controls.”

“There’s lots of buttons.”

Meledrin describe the appropriate one.

“Yeah, I got it.”

So she explained how it worked.

“Right then.”

“Why do you wish to see inside anyway?”

“Why not? I can make sure nobody is causing any trouble.”

Meledrin flicked through some of the pictures. The camera in the library showed Palsamon sitting at a desk with a book open in front of him. He looked to have recovered, physically, from his injuries. In fact, Meledrin thought he looked as good as he had for a long time. It seemed so long since they had spoken in private...

Meledrin changed cameras again, moving quickly though the views available. Bethalin was still working on a computer with the trolls as they attempted to organize the hold. Penisari was in the garden, working with Lisarea. They had not yet planted anything and were working to loosen and fertilize the cold, grey soil.

After a moment of studying the controls, Meledrin remembered how to target specific areas of the ship with the intercom.

She spoke into the microphone. “Penisari.”

Down in the garden, the other elf looked up from her work, leaving a smear of dirt as she wiped at her cheek.

“Can you please come to the bridge?”

Meledrin watched as Penisari left her hoe against the wall and walked toward the door. Several minutes later she stepped out from the lift and made her way to the Communications platform.

“Yes, Meledrin?” she said, looking as if she thought she had done something wrong.

“I am leaving you in charge here.”

“Thank you.”

“It is not such a wonderful chore.” Meledrin wondered if she would have left Penisari in charge if it was. “All you will be doing is waiting for a message from Scree.”

“I can also study the controls?”

“Of course. As long as it does not interfere with your main task in any way.”

“Of course.”

“Very well then. Contact me if I am required.”

Meledrin did not wait for an answer.

When she reached the library it was as if Palsamon had not moved. His head was still bowed over the pages, almost perfectly still, as he read. Meledrin watched for a long time, standing in the doorway. She knew from experience that Palsamon could remain like this for hours, lost in a book. He turned a page with his long index finger then went still again.

“What is it that you are reading?”

He looked up, showing no surprise at all. “It is a story that revolves around a woman trying to solve a murder. It is set on Sherindel. Our world was once very different, or so it would seem.”

“Our world is so different now compared to just a short time ago.” Meledrin wondered how many elves remained on Sherindel. Their communities were isolated and none could have supported others in the first few days of the attack. None of them could have joined their resources, poor though those resource might have been for fending off attacks.

Apparently Palsamon was thinking the same thing. “Perhaps we will find elves on other worlds.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps those who were crowded onto this ship are all that is left of our people.”

Meledrin moved to sit opposite Palsamon, her hands resting on the cold metal surface of the table. “Read some of the story to me.”

Palsamon looked at her, then nodded slightly. He leafed back through the book a small way. “The gate opened of its own accord as Tapnuin approached and he paused. He had been told he could not leave until the Inspector had given his permission—the security system should have been programmed accordingly. Was this a test? Or did it mean he was allowed to venture beyond the wall once more?

“Tapnuin moved closer to the gate and then, quickly, moved through. Outside the garden, the street was quiet. Where earlier there had been flitters parked nose to tail along the curb, now there were just two vehicles, sitting under trees though the shade had long since moved on.

“Across the travel lane, the four story structure of the metaguval building thrust mightily from the trees. Elsewhere, lights were blinking into life, but not there.”

As Palsamon continued to read, Meledrin closed her eyes. Her companion’s voice was deep and strong. She was unsure if it was the quiet passion of his reading or the words themselves that brought the pictures to life in Meledrin’s mind. There were buildings as large as the whole of Grovely, with gardens growing inside. There were vehicles that hummed along almost silently, apparently without all the fumes of the current human vehicles. There were tens of thousands of people all living in the city that seemed to have grown out of the forest.

“What is the city called, Palsamon? Is it named?”

“It is called Calanendra.”

Meledrin gasped. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

A hundred kilometers to the north of Grovely there was a plain known as Calanendra. It was said that a thousand different trees grew there—ones that could be found nowhere else. It was said that the banks of the Daydawn River were strangely uniform. “Do you think..?”

Palsamon shrugged. “Who can say for sure, though I suppose there must be some connection.”

Because of the strangeness of the place and the thousand different tales that were told about it, hardly any elves visited Calanendra. Again, it seemed that Palsamon was following her thoughts.

“We consider ourselves a worldly people, and yet we shy away from places of ill omen. Perhaps if we had been less absorbed in our own small doings we might have discovered our own space craft millennia ago and been flying between the stars.”

“But...”

“Perhaps if we talked to the dwarves long enough for them to learn some of our legends then they might have gone to Calanendra to look for themselves. They would surely have found anything worth finding. But instead, we looked at our trees and read our flowery poetry.”

“What is wrong with elvish poetry?” Meledrin snapped. But she knew she was reacting to her own feelings of unease.

“It is all about us. We write about inconsequential things while the whole world lives and moves around us.”

“Nothing is inconsequential.”

Palsamon sighed. “You know what I mean. We have our own little world and do not look beyond it.”

“The dwarves are no better. They have all their machines and... whatever else... but most remain unused beneath their mountains.”

“Why must we always compare ourselves to somebody else? We should not judge ourselves by the standards other people set for themselves.”

“Then by which standards should we then judge ourselves?”

“By our own. We think we are a worldly, intelligent people, and yet female elves have treated men like second class citizens for as long as can be remembered.”

“Yes, but—”

“You were more liberal in that regard than most, Meledrin, and yet now you still cannot accept the fact that men are as capable as women.”

“But how can—”

“Have you not seen enough proof in the last weeks?”

Meledrin was shocked into silence. She wondered how Palsamon dared to interrupt her. Twice. But by the time she had thought of a suitable remonstration, she had also had a chance to think about what he had said.

Palsamon continued. “Even now, you judge Penisari by the standards of Grovely. She missed one Morning Ceremony ten years ago because she was sick, but nothing she does will ever redeem her in your eyes.”

“She put the Ohoga Tree at risk.”

“Do you really believe that? Do you really believe a tree that has stood for millennia will die because of one forgotten ceremony?”

Meledrin sniffed, changing tack. “Penisari is on the bridge even now, monitoring the communications equipment.”

“Really?” Palsamon laughed. “And would she be there if you expected any significant activity? Even now, I expect you would still be up there if you didn’t wish to talk with me.”

“I do not wish to speak with you,” Meledrin said quietly. “I am on my way down to the gardens.”

Palsamon shrugged. “My point still stands. There is something you would rather be doing, so you pass the onerous task on to somebody else.”

“I am the leader. I can order people to do as I wish.”

“Do you see either Kim or Scree giving the boring, dangerous or possibly pointless tasks to others? Leading is about more than telling people what to do, Meledrin.”

#

Meledrin examined the work that had been completed by Penisari and Lisarea. They had fertilized the soil on one side of the garden’s lower section. It seemed that Lisarea was ready to commence the next section. The woman was dragging a half-full bag towards the tunnel to the other side.

But Meledrin wanted to get a sense of the task moving forward. Working with soil was all very fine, but it was about the plants ultimately.

“Lisarea, we will...” Meledrin paused. More than giving orders? “I think we should continue to work on this section for now, Lisarea. Let us get some planting done here so we have some plants.”

Lisarea hesitated for a moment and Meledrin realized that her last comments could be taken as orders. She sighed. “You do not agree?”

“It is just... Ping and Topper seem to believe the fertilized soil must be watered first. Something to do with breaking down the components of the fertilizer.”

“Well, we can water here now and...” Meledrin looked around, as if there might be buckets lying somewhere with which they could carry water. At the same moment she realized it would take many buckets and would be a labor-intensive task she also realized that Lisarea was once again looking uncomfortable. “You do not agree, again?”

“Topper said that there is a watering system in this room. Water falls from the ceiling like rain.”

“Ahhh...” Of course. Carrying buckets of water would not be required on the ship.

“We could turn the system on now, but it would mean working in the mud and ‘rain’.”

“No, you are correct. That is ridiculous. Let us proceed with the fertilization of the other side.”

“Yes, Meledrin.” Lisarea bent to the heavy bag once more and started to drag it through the dirt.

Meledrin walked almost all the way to the tunnel before stopping to look back. With another sigh she went back to assist.

“What are you two doing?”

Meledrin had not even bent to lift the bag. She dusted non-existent dirt away from her hands and turned to see a young dwarf watching them. Meledrin did not know his name. “We are fertilizing the soil. What are you doing sneaking around in here? Are there no tasks for you to complete elsewhere?”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” the dwarf seemed offended by the accusation. “Nobody would make any noise walking on this dirt. And I just finished a task—I tidied the garden storage shed and catalogued the contents.”

“Very well. Do you have the list?”

The dwarf offered her a pile of paper he was holding.

Meledrin perused the list. There was nothing very exciting on it. Garden tools—as was to be expected in the garden storage shed, she supposed. “I believe there are small hand held computers that can be used instead of sheets of paper,” she said.

“Well, nobody told me.”

He was offended again, as if anything could be taken the wrong way.

Meledrin had merely brought the computers to the dwarf’s attention so he could use one next time and complete his task more efficiently—something all dwarves were keen to do. But he immediately thought she was criticizing. How could dwarves and elves ever hope to get along when the dwarves took umbrage at everything?

Meledrin looked at the list again. It was very long, taking up the best part of four pages. It was written in neat, dark writing with columns clearly marked and categorized. “Right hand garden gloves, 3. 2 wearing thin. Left hand gloves, 5.” She raised an eyebrow.

The dwarf shrugged. “All the gardeners must have been right handed.

“Hoes, 4 (including two in use in the garden).” Meledrin scanned the garden and spotted two hoes leaning against the wall. “2 with damaged handles.”

“We won’t need to replace the whole hoe,” the dwarf explained, “Just the handles.”

Meledrin leafed through the pages. She looked at Lisarea, still standing by the fertilizer, and then back to the dwarf. “There is a barrow?”

He nodded. “It was right down the back, buried beneath some sacks.”

Meledrin smoothed the front of her dress, reclaimed soon after she had returned from the rescue mission.

The list was detailed and could be put to good use by the elves in the garden and by whomever was in charge of resupply. It was a very good list, but the first thing Meledrin had thought to say was that it could have been better.

She cleared her throat before realizing what she was doing. “What is your name?”

“Hoodek.”

“Hoodek, I apologize.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Meledrin continued. “I did not mean to suggest you had done a poor job. It seems to me you have completed your task admirably.”

Hoodek tugged at his beard, a universal sign that a dwarf was working on a problem of some complexity. “Thank you,” he said.

“Hoodek, perhaps...” Meledrin handed the pages back to him. “Do you enjoy gardening?” she asked.

The dwarf looked around. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it.”

“There is much work to be done here...”

“So you want dwarves to come down here and carry things for you?”

“No, I...” Meledrin looked at Lisarea and the bag of fertilizer. “We elves can complete the work—we will complete the work—” as if she was convincing herself, “but the garden is not just here for us. It is here for everyone.”

He obviously didn’t believe her. He shook his head, turned, and started to walk away.

“Hoodek?”

“What?”

“Dwarves are ugly and loud and uncouth—”

“Why thank you,” he said sarcastically. He started to walk again.

Meledrin sighed. What was she trying to say? Was an insult the best way to start saying it? “Hoodek, what I mean is... That is all elves have ever seen in the past—that is all we have ever looked for. Like dwarves have seen us as boring and aloof.”

“And ugly.”

Meledrin gave a slight smile. “And ugly, too, apparently.”

Hoodek grunted.

“So, I was merely going to suggest that it is time we started looking for something else. Especially in here, where to do otherwise would be sheer folly. I will not order you, or anyone else, to assist in the garden. However, let it be known that the assistance of dwarves would be greatly appreciated. The assistance of anyone would.”

Hoodek watched her as if still not trusting. Eventually he nodded. “I have to give this to Ping,” he said, waving the list. He turned and walked away.

“What are you looking at?” Meledrin asked Lisarea.

The younger elf snapped her mouth shut, “Nothing,” and bent to the bag of fertilizer once more.

“Perhaps we should find the barrow,” Meledrin suggested.

19: Lay of the Land

“We’ve been spotted,” Scree said.

“Where?”

He was already pointing but shifted a bit so Kim could squint into the darkness along his arm. He could hear her breathing right near his ear. The others weren’t far away, waiting quietly.

“I can’t...” Kim cocked her head to one side. “You mean in that window half way up the wall?”

“Yep. There’s somebody in armor. They probably see us clear as day.”

“We should keep moving then.”

Scree grunted. They could keep moving all night, but unless they had a destination it wouldn’t help. He and Flint had been leading back toward the ship—for all they knew, their yet-to-be-found allies might be in that direction—but he didn’t like pointless wandering.

<Are you there, Scree?> Penisari’s voice was thin and crackling, barely audible.

<Where else would I be, Peni>? Scree answered the elf silently. <Do you think I left my head behind somewheres?>

<Of course not.>

<Have you founds anything out?>

<There is a great deal of radio conversation between the hurgon. I have monitored one ongoing exchange in which five hurgon have iterated how unhappy they are with the situations faced by their families. They have been forced to virtually sell themselves into slavery to one of the Great Families because of exorbitant interest rates.>

<Sounds promising.> Not that Scree knew what ‘interest rates’ were. <Any names?>

<Only one. P’targa.>

<Don’t happen to know where they is, do you?>

<No, they do not speak of anything like that. They seem to be attempting to remain anonymous. I think that single name slipped out in error.>

<Right then. We’ll see whats we can find out. You keep listening though.>

<Of course.>

“Scree, are we going or what? I think someone’s coming.”

Scree looked across the vacant patch of ground. Beyond a pile of cracked and crumbling bricks, still barely out of the far building, four hurgon were carefully negotiating the rough ground. They were dressed in colorful cloth pants but held large, mean looking weapons.

Scree pointed along the wall. “That way,” he said. Nobody but Kim would be able to hear, but Flint was in his mind, so it didn’t matter. “We’ll get into that buildings there then see what we cans see.”

Flint went along the base of the wall and the others followed in his wake, dwarves, elves and Kim, clattering over rubble and stumbling through clinging fingers of wide bladed grass. The hurgon continued the implacable chase but were too far away to use their weapons.

<There’s all sorts of chatter on the radio, Scree.> Flint said a minute later. <Suldon thinks them hurgon are calling for help, though I don’t know I said all them weird words right.> There was a pause. <We may have company when we get to the building.>

<No choice. Go see whats you can see.>

Flint didn’t reply, but Scree saw him race ahead, leaving Sandy to lead.

<Can’t see nothing,> he said a moment later. <Looks deserted.>

<Make sure it stays that way.>

<On it.>

When Scree arrived at the door he found Sandy inside, crouched in the first room. Her dark skin made her almost impossible to see.

“Where’s Flint?”

Sandy pointed upwards.

Scree nodded. “We’ll wait here for a bit.”

Flint came back a few minutes later, slipping into the room like a ghost. “I reckon if we get up to the roof we’ll move a whole heap quicker,” he said as he looked over Scree’s shoulder to check the steady progress of their pursuers. “Looks like we can go just about anywhere without touching the ground.

“Let’s do it,” Kim said. “Where the hell are we going though?”

“We’s looking for a minor family called the P’targa.”

“Who says?”

“Peni.”

“Okay, where are they?”

“No idea.”

“Right, that narrows it down then,” Kim said. “Maybe the first thing we can do is look for a train station or something. They may have a map or something so we can get the lay of the land.”

Scree nodded and motioned for Flint to lead on.

On the roof, they stopped again. There were irregularly spaced lights creating pools of shadow. Sitting in the lee of a timber and brick wall they scanned the sky, looking for one of the sky trains they’d seen earlier. None of the tracks were visible but, after a few minutes, a twitching light passed rapidly across the tops of the buildings a couple of kilometers away.

Flint was already climbing up a rusting ladder to the next rooftop, following the light. Sandy went next, stopping at the top to urge everyone else up.

They quickly crossed the tops of a few more buildings. Pipes, big and small, snaked across the concrete and stone plains. Some joined together or met at strange looking machines that chugged noisily and belched out steam or smoke. Some disappeared into the small buildings that dotted the roof. Some disappeared into the roof.

They slipped silently past hurgon, darting from shadow to shadow or crawling on all fours. Hurgon stood on other buildings as well, maybe choosing to spend a few minutes in the quiet of the rooftop world. Scree wondered if they were avoiding the hurgon they wanted to talk to. Were they skirting past the P’targa family while they searched for a map?

They had no trouble for nearly half an hour.

Eventually, they were brought to a halt by a wall that towered over them.

Flint and Sandy, scouting to either side, returned while the elves and dwarves were still catching their breath.

“Ten meter gap that way,” Sandy said, motioning over her shoulder. “About two hundred meters back to anything else. But it looks like the gap is a moat or something. It goes around the corner and keeps going, like they knew we was coming and wanted to stop us.” She motioned forward, in the general direction of their journey. “The sky train thing is about a hundred meters that way.”

Scree cursed and walked back a bit but Kim was nodding vaguely. “Maybe we’re moving from one family’s compound to another,” she said. “They have the moat to make sure the only way in or out is through this building.” She tapped the roof beneath her.

Scree didn’t particularly care for the why. All he knew was that they had to keep moving forward. He stepped away from the wall and craned his neck to see the top.

“Keeble?” Kim said.

“I’ll check.”

Scree cursed again. Why climb the wall when they could go through it?

Keeble started to Sing and the magic built in the air. “It’s about fifty centimeters thick,” the dwarf said, laying his hand against the stone. His hand disappeared and Keeble followed. He was back a moment later, still singing. “There is a huge hall, we’re about twenty meters above the floor. No way down.”

“How about straights down?” Scree asked.

“Maybe. It’s about a meter thick. Someone lower me down.”

Scree and Flint each took one of the dwarf’s feet and held him upside down. When they felt the tone of his Song change, they started to lower him. It was just a moment before he started to twitch and they hauled him back up. His Song ended abruptly.

Keeble cleared his throat. “A slight problem,” he said. “It’s a guardroom down there. There’s about twenty of the ugly bastards hanging around doing all sorts of strange things.” He cleared his throat again. “Well, they were. Now they’re all rushing around looking for weapons, I imagine, because they saw me.”

Scree looked quickly around. There was a small shed on the roof about fifty meters away. Probably the stairs.

“How big was the guard room,” Flint asked. “Where was the main door?”

Keeble paced away from the group. “There is a wall here,” he said, “with a door in the corner here.” He went quickly across the other side of the group. “The other wall is here, and a door.”

“And that way?”

“Ten meters. With a door.”

Scree grunted. “Let’s just pick one of the sides and go then. We’re wasting time.”

Keeble stood indecisively for a moment as he started to Sing, then pointed at a patch of roof. “Here.”

Scree and Flint upended the dwarf again and lowered him.

“A bit lower,” Keeble called around his Song. “Right, now let go.”

Scree and Flint looked at each other, shrugged, and released the dwarf’s feet. A couple of seconds later, Keeble’s head appeared.

“It’s a store room. I’m standing on a pile of crates. It’s directly below the hole, so just lower yourselves in.” He gestured back the way they’d come. “And you might want to hurry up about it.”

There were three armored hurgon stomping across the roof towards them, arms already raised, and a dozen others in black breeches, all with weapons.

“Flaming cats. Let’s go.”

Nobody moved, then Suldon and Nina both raced for the half visible ‘hole’ at the same time.

“Flint,” Scree said, grabbing Tasko by the collar and pulling him back when he started to crouch by the hole, “get down there and have a look.” The other troll was into the hole and gone in an instant. Tasko grunted at the treatment, straightened his shirt and hurried after.

Only Kim was left, sitting on the lip, when Scree looked up again. The hurgon were closing quickly. They were in range and had their arms raised. Scree dived at Kim and knocked her aside. A burst of energy shattered the stone where she’d been. Someone down below grunted in pain.

Sandy’s voice in Scree’s head asked, <You right, boss?>

Scree was helping Kim to her feet and pulling her towards the minimal cover offered by a nest of pipes not far away. <We right, but we ain’t going down the hole.>

<Where you going?>

<Don’t know.> He ducked behind the pipes and looked around. The hurgon were still coming. <We gonna have to think of somewhere fast though.>

<You want help?>

<Too many of them. We’ll find you.>

<Right.>

Flint joined in. <Maybe not, Scree. Hundreds of the buggers down here. We got problems of our own.>

<Keep in touch then.>

Scree had been examining his surroundings. One pipe, thirty centimeters in diameter, left the strange tangle and headed through the low wall that guarded the side of the building. He didn’t know where it went once it got out the other side, but it looked like the best option.

“Come on.” He took Kim’s hand in his and pulled her along.

20: Easy

Kim watched Scree lean over the edge of the wall and looked down. The pursuers had fallen behind. The robed ones seemed to be holding back, waiting for the protection of the others. A couple were visible, plodding along in their armor. They were moving slowly, as ever, but seemed much too close.

“Come on,” Scree said as he climbed over the wall.

Kim took a look over the side of the building. It was too dark to see much but the pipe, which Scree was standing on, turned ninety degrees to go straight down

When Kim glanced at Scree he smiled, and she thought she knew exactly what he was thinking. But even if she’d had another option she wouldn’t have refused to follow. His calm efficiency was a challenge she found hard to deny.

“Well, hurry up then,” she said. “We don’t have all day.”

The troll’s head disappeared and Kim followed. She put one foot on the pipe and hesitated. It was wide enough to stand on but... It was a pipe. She took a deep breath and carefully got her other leg over as well. She tried not to think about what she was doing as she carefully crouched down. Then she was straddling the pipe, sitting just a few centimeters from a very large drop. Her hands were sweating.

“There’s a bracket about a meter down,” Scree said.

“A meter?” They were a long way apart. Kim carefully slid around the curve of the pipe. She lowered herself further, sliding her feet along the wall as close to the pipe as she could.

She slid further. She was sure her feet had gone down a meter, but she still hadn’t found the damn bracket. Her feet scrabbled against the wall, searching. Her hands were slipping.

“No,” Scree said with infuriating calmness. “Down. A bit more down. You’re almost there.”

Kim stopped all movement and closed her eyes. She slid down the pipe with sweat-lubricated hands. Finally her feet found the bracket and she took a deep breath.

“Easy,” Scree said.

Kim nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

“Course it is. Now, there’s another bracket a meter and a half below you. If you slides your feet down the pipe to that you can transfer your hands to the top bracket, right.”

“Right.” Kim opened her eyes to look down, but changed her mind and stared at the cold grey bricks. With another deep breath she moved her feet off the bracket and started to slide again.

A lifetime passed before she was hanging grimly to the top bracket with her shaking feet planted firmly on the second.

With her more solid position, Kim risked a look down. Scree was another meter lower. One of his feet was planted solidly on the pipe where it turned ninety degrees to run along the wall, parallel to the ground. He was holding onto the bracket that supported Kim’s feet. He was looking up at her.

“Come on bucko,” Kim said with a slight smile that she wore over her unease like a mask, “keep your mind on the job.”

“What?”

“Stop staring and move your arse.” Arse might not have been the best word for her to use. Scree smiled. “Remember the bad guys,” Kim said.

Kim watched as Scree nodded and spun around so both his feet were on the horizontal section of pipe and his back to the wall. It looked easy enough. Kim slid down to Scree’s level as he edged along to give her room. But then she stopped. Scree made the spin look simple but, clinging to the pipe, waiting to do the same thing herself, Kim wasn’t sure she could.

“You cans do it, Kim. This thing is plenty wide enough.”

“Of course I can do it,” Kim replied, taking another look. The pipe was wide enough and the fact that it was out from the wall a small way made it even easier. “I’m just catching my breath.”

Scree nodded and leaned back against the bricks while Kim continued to cling to the vertical section of pipe. She may well have stayed there all day but the sound of the hurgon above startled her into life. With a quick, nervous movement she spun around to the left and leaned against the wall by Scree’s side.

“That was easy,” she said, with another glance down. She slowly took her left hand away from the bracket on the pipe.

Scree smiled. “Course it was. Now let’s just hope this leads somewheres.”

“Let’s hope this leads somewhere? You don’t know?” She leaned out slightly, trying to see along the wall, but Scree pushed her back with a large hand on her stomach.

“Looking won’t helps. Let’s just go.”

“This is a great plan.”

Scree smiled. He always seemed to be smiling when something dangerous was going on. “Well, if you likes we can go back up and see if we can come up with something else.”

“Just move.”

Kim sidled along the pipe after Scree. Examining her own feet, trying to ignore the space beyond, she kept going until she was pressed against Scree’s side.

“Ummm... Why have we stopped?”

“We’s all out of pipe.”

Scree stopped her from leaning out to look again. “Just believe me.”

Kim pressed against his hand, trying to see. The gentle pressure wouldn’t let her move at all. “So what the hell are we going to do?”

“Stay calm. Let me thinks.”

“I am calm.” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. Calm. The pipe was plenty big enough. She could stand there all night.

Kim watched as Scree looked towards the ground. She looked as well. It was about fifteen meters away with its tall, tough looking grass and ubiquitous piles of rubble. It was way too far to be jumping, but Scree seemed to have other ideas.

With great care, the troll sat astraddle the pipe, squeezing his leg between it and the wall.

“What are you doing?”

He grabbed one of the brackets and leaned down until he was almost hanging upside down. “There’s a window. If we sits on the pipe like this and grab the bracket we can lower ourselves down a bit and swing inside.”

She knew what he meant but wasn’t about to try it. Apparently there were limits to her acceptance of challenges. Her heart was racing. She tried to examine the window between the pipe and wall. She thought that maybe there was a drizzle of light but couldn’t be certain. “I can’t do it,” she said. Thinking about it, she couldn’t believe what she’d already done.

“You haven’t even looked.”

“I’m looking now.”

“Sit down and have a look.”

Kim did as she was told, slowly, carefully sitting then leaning all the way out and down to see. “I can’t do it. I don’t mind height too much—I am sitting here—but I’m not Lara Croft. I can’t go hanging and swinging and jumping and... whatever.” She had the feeling she was going to be doing it anyway. She couldn’t see any other options and she was sure she’d let Scree convince her in the end.

“Take my hand then,” Scree said, “and all you have to do is hang, I’ll take care of everything else.”

“What?”

“Take my hand.”

She examined his hand for a moment then looked up at his face.

“Does you trust me?”

She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Take my hand.”

She was an idiot. Her mother had been telling her that since she was a kid and Kim didn’t really think she was in a position to argue.

With a sigh and one last look over the side she grabbed hold of Scree’s wrist and he grabbed hers. She could feel his fingers lock around her and wondered what it would take to make him let go if he didn’t want to. She licked her lips.

“You’re sweating,” Scree said.

“Well, duh.”

He released her arm, wiped his hand on his trousers, then the wall and locked on again.

“Now all you have to do,” he said, “is climb off the pipe.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

But she couldn’t move. She kept her legs wrapped around the pipe and, examining Scree’s huge hand on her arm, wondered if the age-old question about the irresistible force and immovable object was finally going to be answered.

“Does you trust me?”

Idiot. With a deep breath she loosened her legs and leaned slowly sideways. Moments later she was hanging fifteen meters above the ground, swinging slightly and looking in through a window.

Hopefully nobody’s in there, she thought. She couldn’t see anything inside the room. For all she knew she might have been entering a room full of sleeping guard dogs.

“Ready?” Scree asked. He was already starting to swing her towards the wall.

“Not really.” Her heart was racing faster than before, which she wouldn’t have thought possible. Her mouth was dry.

“Well you better be ready by the time I count to three, ‘cause I’ll be letting go then.”

“Shit.”

She swung.

“One.”

She dreaded the moment.

“Two.”

What if...

“Three.”

She sailed through the window. A table just inside caught her unexpectedly. She yelped with shock and pain, spun, clattered over onto the floor with the table coming behind. She hit the floor hard. The wind left her lungs in a rush. She rolled and came to rest on her back on a very comfortable, thick-piled rug. Not a good sign, she thought.

The squeak of a door opening to her right. To her left, a grunt as Scree hit the fallen table and knocked it completely upside down. He came to rest half on the table and half on her. His face was on her stomach, his hand on her face.

The wind knocked out of her again, Kim didn’t move. She coughed and tried to draw in a breath. Scree was on his feet before the door across the other side of the room had opened all the way. He pulled a stunned hurgon into the room and knocked the alien unconscious. While Kim still struggled to breathe he poked his head outside to check, then closed the door.

“See, easy.”

Kim groaned and nodded and wondered if the hurgon would mind her sleeping on the nice thick mat for a while. Scree was doing something by the door and moments later a slow bloom of light appeared overhead. It slowly became brighter until Kim decided that sitting up was preferable to looking at it. She heaved herself upright and rubbed at her back.

“Next time, you can go first.”

“Can’t hardly wait,” Scree said as he quickly searched the room. There was no obvious weapon available so he picked up the table and ripped off two solid metal legs to use as clubs. “You right to go?” He opened the door a crack and peeked out.

“Where are we going?” She wasn’t right. Any delay would help.

“The others are heading this way, but I think they’s on the level below us. Looks like you was right about this being the border between two different families. There’s guards everywhere, apparently.”

Scree went through the door. With a sigh and a wince of discomfort, Kim stood and followed.

The next room was an office. There were a dozen desks. One whole wall was covered with pigeon holes and another with a long row of cabinets. A steam engine, with all sorts of pipes attached, chugged quietly in a corner. The pipes led to a range of machines. Some appeared to be computers, with rows of buttons and a furry, grey screen. Others were... Telephones? These latter were all lined up along the wall near another door. They had bits that might have been speaking tubes and other bits that... Hell, they could be coffee machines.

Steam spewed from one of the contraptions and set it to whistling. It was a sound that quickly got on Kim’s nerves.

“There could be information here,” Scree said, looking around as if wondering where to start his search.

“I think that whistling thing is a like a radio. Someone is supposed to be answering it about now. Either that or the coffee’s ready.”

“There’s a map.”

Scree hurried across to the other side of the room where a map several feet to a side hung from the wall.

The whistling machine suddenly fell silent.

“I think we should get out of here, Scree.”

“Right then. Can’t follow this thing anyway.” He strode out through the room’s only other door as if he had every right to be there. Kim followed more cautiously.

They were in a wide, bare stone hallway that ended in a T-intersection ten meters to the left and seemed to open out into a large room thirty meters in the other direction.

Scree had gone a few steps towards the room but was now standing perfectly still, head cocked to one side. He spun around and headed the other way. “I think we should go this way,” he said.

“Why?” Kim peered down the passage for a moment. Then she heard it as well—the thumping feet on the floor. Lots of feet. Scree grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the intersection just as she saw a troop of hurgon, in formation, marching double time towards them.

Kim turned and ran.

21: New Shift

Ping toweled herself dry and pulled on the new clothes she’d found in the hold. There was a whole container of clothes, sealed in airtight bags, to fit the diverse members of the crew. Unlike some of the others, she wasn’t comfortable walking around in the EVA suites.

Once dressed, she stepped out of the cubicle into the main section of the bathroom and found a bare-breasted Crystal gazing at herself in a mirror.

“Hi, Ping.”

“Crystal.” Ping blushed and ducked her head.

“Them showers is good. Warm water and that soap stuff...”

Ping nodded. “They’re wonderful.”

There was a lift that came directly from the sleeping level above, and as Ping stood in the middle of the room, caught between stopping to brush her hair and hurrying down to her cabin on Level 6, the door screeched open.

Hoodek, with plaits in his long, red beard and hair, stepped into the room. The young dwarf looked at Ping and nodded. When he turned to Crystal he stared, looking slightly bemused, and blushed. Blinking rapidly, as if coming out of a trance, he put down his belongings and quickly turned to examine the noisy door.

Ping blushed harder, but Hoodek had accepted the situation and moved on. Well, perhaps he’d not accepted it, but realized that he wasn’t going to be the person to change it.

Head down, Ping started for the bathroom’s other door. It led directly to a hallway on Level 3. From there, she could catch a lift down to her cabin.

“Excuse me, Ping?”

She stopped to look at Hoodek. “Yes?”

“This door needs fixing. Looks like it might have some grit in the gears. But I don’t have any tools or anything. I could go and get some and do it now. Or I could come back later if you want. Or...”

He was asking her? “Umm...”

“But I know there aren’t any rosters or anything, or work gangs, so I’m not sure who should do it.”

“Roster? Work gangs?”

“Yeah. If we knew that then we would know who would fix it. With all the commotion since we came on board I guess Keeble hasn’t had time to organize anything.”

Ping stood near the door holding her towel and hairbrush. “I...” According to the system used by the ship’s clocks there were 1500 minutes in the day. If she divided that into 10 fifty minute hours. Three shifts daily. Surely she could work something out. “Ummm... Don’t do anything yet.”

“Oh. I just thought...”

“The engineering department will have a meeting and we can work that stuff out, okay?”

Hoodek nodded. “Thank you. It would be good to get organized properly. Everyone’s just wandering around doing random things at the moment and it doesn’t feel right.” The dwarf smiled, collected his belongings and glanced at Crystal before heading quickly for the shower cubicles. Ping collected her thoughts and went the other way.

#

Ping put down her pad and pencil and sighed. She didn’t know what she was doing. She wondered why she’d ever thought she’d be able to work the roster out. And even if she had everything perfect, the dwarves probably wouldn’t listen. Deciding she needed help, Ping left her cabin and made her way the short distance to the engineering department.

Makar, Milo, Dogar and Kafin were there, engaged in various tasks. Ping hadn’t spent a great deal of time with any of them.

“Does anyone know where Topper is?” she asked.

Makar shrugged without taking his eyes from the screen. “Saw him earlier.”

That didn’t help much. The ship had any number of places where a dwarf could find something to keep himself busy. Ping thought of asking Milo for help—he was the youngest and had once been Keeble’s best friend. Instead, she crossed to a microphone and selected the setting that would page the entire ship. “Topper, please come to the engineering office. Topper to the engineering office.” There was an alcove in the corner of the engineering room as well, but Dogar had commandeered the chair from there. He and Kafin should really have taken the pump they were repairing up to the workshop.

She thought of saying something but changed her mind. “We’ll be having a meeting later,” she said instead.

“Who says?” Kafin asked, running fingers through his long grey beard.

“I say.” Ping’s heart beat faster. It was all very well giving orders when Kim and Scree and even Keeble were there to back her up, but what would happen if the dwarves ignored her now? They were even less likely to listen to Meledrin—a woman and an elf all in one—though she’d been officially left in charge.

“And what if we don’t want to go?”

Ping licked her lips. “Then you sit and watch while others do work.”

“You can’t stop us.”

“The work gangs might if they see you doing work that they could be doing.”

The old dwarf grunted and turned back to the pump.

Ping tuned and hurried back to her cabin to collect the half-completed list. She’d shifted her meager belongings from the small cabin beside Keeble’s to the large one on the far side of the engineering department. The smaller cabin would probably have been plenty large enough in reality, but she was an officer so... She shook her head at the absurdity of it.

Ping quickly made her way through the engineering bay to the eastern side of the ship. The office there had three desks, each larger than the one before. Sitting down at the one closest to the door she took up her pen but didn’t change the list at all before Topper arrived four minutes later.

“You wanted to see me?”

Ping jumped slightly and looked up. Topper was leaning in the door, hair upright and askew, breeches and shirt dirty. He was only slightly older than Ping and had been far more accepting of her and the dwives than almost any other dwarf. She hoped that would continue.

“Yes. I was talking to Hoodek and he suggested that all the dwarves might be more comfortable if there was a bit of a system in terms of shifts and work gangs. I was trying to work something out but...” She threw her piece of paper on the table. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Sure. It does feel strange knowing there won’t be a hooter to mark the end of the shift.”

“Well, I can’t work it out.” She motioned to the list.

“Well,” Topper said, ignoring the paper, “first you have to work out how many work gangs.”

“Four.”

“Why?”

“Because there are four Singers.”

“Good, but what about you?” He tugged at his beard as he examined the names on the paper.

“What?”

“Well, the Singers will want to lead the groups, right?”

“Yes.”

“So which group do you lead?”

“Umm... I thought I could work with your gang sometimes.”

He didn’t look disappointed at all when he nodded. “I’m the only choice. None of the others would like it much yet.”

“You would still be in charge,” Ping said. “If I don’t officially put myself in a gang, then I can look in on anyone... Sort of keep an eye on things?” She didn’t intend to go around shouting orders and criticizing, she just wanted to make sure the dwives were being treated fairly and that the different gangs were working together. It probably meant Keeble would be in charge of the actual work and she’d organize things, but that couldn’t be helped.

Topper nodded slowly. “That’s like what we call a Site Boss. You’re job is to make sure everyone else is doing theirs... by working out rosters, for a start.”

“Right.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Ping smiled at him. “Thanks, Topper.”

“I think you chose the wrong desk, in that case.” He pointed to the biggest desk. “The Site Boss is the one who does most of the office work.

Ping eyed the desk. It looked larger than anything she would ever need. “I think we can stay here for now.”

“Right,” Topper said, returning his attention to the partially completed list. “Next, you need at least one of your clock group in each gang. Ari, Dosa, Nina and Tess were the best of them, right? So spread them between the groups.” He did that. “Then make sure there is an even spread of youngsters, old timers and dwives.”

Ping watched as he wrote some more. “Are you sure that’s right?”

“Yes.” He wrote the last name with a flourish and laid the pencil down. Ping had agonized for an hour over what Topper had finished in a two and a half minutes.

“And the shifts?”

Topper shrugged. “Depends how you want to organize things.”

“Well, I was thinking... The first thing we should do is give the ship some night and day. At the moment everything is the same. Sometimes I find that I am sleeping every five hours because I lose track of the time.”

“Yeah, it’s like that.”

“I can program the lights to dim at a set time. Then we can have three shifts a day of five hundred minutes each. That is about 8 hours and twenty minutes.”

“That could work. And the shifts just rotate. Three days on, one day off.”

“Yes. But I was thinking that being on shift doesn’t mean you work and nobody else does.”

“So... what’s the point, then?”

“Well, being on shift means you keep an eye on things. If we’re on the ground, there is always at least one person on the bridge and one in the engineering bay. If we are flying, then there are two people in both those spots—except if we’re in the other universe, because then it really doesn’t matter.”

“So what if something needs to be done then?”

“Then whoever’s on shift asks for volunteers from amongst the others.”

“What if nobody volunteers?”

Ping shook her head and laughed. After a second, Topper did as well.

“I don’t think we have enough people to do it any other way.” Ping thought Kim should have taken on a full crew. The ship could hold 85 people for a reason. If 50 people had been the optimal number then it would have been designed to have a crew of 50.

“All right then.” Topper said, still trying to pick holes in her plan. “So, all the cleaning would be done by dwarves not on shift?”

“Yes, that way, there will always be somebody keeping an eye on things here and on the bridge.”

“That could work.”

Ping shrugged. “But will they listen?”

#

Ping found it strange that standing on a stage could make speaking all that much harder. She cleared her throat again but didn’t know what else to say. She’d explained the roster and work gangs to all the dwarves, and of course they grumbled and cursed her for a stupid woman, but she thought they’d do as she said.

Milo put up his hand. “You aren’t in a work gang, but Keeble is. Who’s in charge of his gang when he’s doing something else?”

Ping examined her list for a moment. She chewed on her thumbnail while she thought. She wanted to put Ari in charge though she knew the dwife was not the best choice. “Dogar,” she said eventually. The dwarf seemed capable enough, but Ping wished she’d thought of that before getting on the stage so she could ask Topper. It would not matter all that much—Ping imagined she would be doing the ‘something else’ more often than Keeble.

“Who’s on shift now?”

“Ummm... Tasko’s gang is,” Ping said. That would mean Hoodek was off shift—in Topper’s gang—and he could fix the door in the shower’s elevator. “Next will be Topper, Drago, then Keeble. All right?”

“Fine.”

“Whatever.”

“Typical.”

It wasn’t a rousing reception, but it could’ve been worse. Ping looked at Topper and he nodded slightly. She cleared her throat. “Tasko, one of the first things you have to do is organize for someone to see what’s wrong with the bathroom on Level 6—there’s no hot water.” At least when that was fixed she wouldn’t be bumping into naked trolls.

“The computer doesn’t say anything about that.”

“Well, maybe the computer is broken as well. All I know is that there’s no hot water.”

“All right then.”

She was done but they all sat waiting for her to say something else. “That’s all,” she offered. It seemed it was enough. Several got up and wandered away. Topper crossed to stand near her when she made her way down from the stage. His gang crowded close by. There were two fifty minutes hours left before they got the boring job of keeping an eye on things.

“Can I fix that door?” Hoodek asked.

Ping pointed to Topper.

“What door?” Topper asked. But it didn’t matter. “Yes, unless Tasko has something else for you.”

“Ummm...” Ping said.

“Yes?”

“There’s a pump sitting in the middle of the Engineering bay. I would rather that area was kept clear.”

Topper nodded. “Right. Nina and Mintar can take it and all its parts up to the workshop. And I will...”

“You will come with me to see about the lighting. We’ll be in Engineering.”

Ping suspected that Topper wouldn’t be needed for the task but she liked his company—he was not afraid to speak like the dwives sometimes were, and he was not rude to her all the time like a couple of the older dwarves.”

Tasko and his gang were already on duty down stairs, apparently. Everyone else had found something to do. Soon only Topper remained, standing close by, waiting to get to work.

Captain Thorpe joined them after having watched the meeting from nearby. “Do you think they’ll listen?”

“Perhaps,” Topper replied. “If it suites them, certainly.”

“We’ll back you up if you need it, Ping, you know that.” He motioned over his shoulder to two other humans—Paul, the junior SAS officer, and Airman Dongoske.

Ping shrugged. “The dwarves probably think you have even less right to be telling them what to do.”

“Because we aren’t ‘full’ members of the crew.”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “We’re still bigger and meaner than they are. And there are always the trolls.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Don’t ever forget that you have the right to give those orders, Ping—it was one of the things they agreed to before being allowed to stay on the Hakahei.” Ping nodded and Thorpe nodded in return. “Now, see those buttons over there—do you think one of them will make these seats disappear?”

Ping looked where he was pointing, to a small console by the wall near the front corner of the stage, then at the seats. She hadn’t noticed before, but it looked as if they might retract into the floor to leave a large portion of the room totally uncluttered. “Perhaps,” she said. “But why would they?”

“Keeble said that this is a scout ship and can go six months without stopping at a planet.”

“So?”

“So, with eighty-whatever people stuck on here for six months the main problem would be boredom. The designers would have to do everything possible to avoid that. Movie theatre and assembly hall here, or take the chairs away for a sporting field.”

“Sport?”

“Yes. We found a soccer ball.” He smiled, though Ping had no idea what he was talking about. “If you don’t mind, I’ll press some buttons and see what happens.”

“Very well. And if you discover something you can write some instructions.”

Thorpe saluted, “Yes, ma’am,” while he went to have a look. He chose a button, seemingly at random, and nothing obvious happened.

Ping turned away to leave him fiddling and headed towards the Engineering department.

22: The Gap

Keeble continued to Sing as he turned to look at Flint. “What do you mean they aren’t coming?”

Flint shrugged and tugged at his moustache.

Sandy spoke. “They just got attacked. Couldn’t get to the hole.”

“But...”

“You might want to stop Singing before a hurgon falls down on top of us.”

Keeble fell silent. It was so sudden it almost hurt. “So what’s happening?”

“We’re going that way,” Flint said, pointing. “Hopefully they’ll meet up with us.”

“Hopefully?”

“There’s lots of stuff going on around here—who knows what’ll happen.” Flint went to the door and looked out. “We’ve got Suldon and Tami,” he said, “so our job is to find the P’targa family. Scree and Kim’s job is to find us.”

“But how’ll we know what to do if we do the impossible thing and find the family?” Keeble wound the gears on his arm.

Flint shrugged. “Not my concern—you’re in charge.”

“Me?” He was in charge of the engineering department. That was all.

“Yep.”

Keeble didn’t like the idea much but after a moment of thought realized he had nothing to worry about. He could give all the orders he wanted but the two trolls would follow or not, and that would determine where everyone really went. And if they found the P’targa family then Flint would be able to talk to Scree in his head, and Scree would be able to talk to Kim. Huh! He didn’t need Kim’s help. “Let’s go then. No time to waste.”

But just when Keeble thought leadership would be easy, Flint quickly closed the door he’d just opened. “I was seen. You might want to start Singing again.”

Keeble stared.

“Right now. They’re only twenty meters away.” While he was speaking, Flint motioned to Sandy and the two of them moved a large box to block the door.

Keeble launched straight into his Song without his usual slow build up. He tunneled through a wall and stuck his head through to check. He backed out in a hurry. “No good.” He knew the wall to the north would lead to that huge hall and they’d still be a couple of levels above the floor. So down. He shifted the focus of his Song and motioned for the trolls to hold him.

Below was an empty room. As soon as Keeble said that he was dragged back up and Flint jumped down without even waiting for measurements. Tasko and Nina went next, one on either side of the hole, muttering under their breaths, lowering themselves carefully then letting go. Then the elves did the same. Keeble and Bargle followed with Sandy pushing on the wooden crate to hold the door closed. When Keeble hit the floor he moved quickly out of the way. Sandy hit the floor lightly, hair beads clattering like a rainstorm, an instant after he’d stepped clear. Flint was leading the way almost before the trollop had rolled to her feet. Keeble cut off his Song.

There was a knock at the door and everyone looked at each other.

After a moment, Keeble started to Sing again. He heard Tasko Singing as well and the other dwarf quickly molded the stone by the side of the door. He was flattening out a section, spreading it out past the timber and around the door handle. Seeing the door opened inwards, it would take axes or something similar to get past. Keeble sighed with relief and wound his Song down.

“Where we going?” Flint asked.

“What if we head back outside?” Keeble suggested. “We can’t go forward anyway.” The huge hall and all the guard made that impossible.”

Flint nodded and motioned to one of the walls. “That way is one of those huge vacant blocks. The other way was that narrow gap between the buildings.”

Keeble guessed he was supposed to pick a direction. He thought for a moment, giving each option careful thought. “The gap will be darker and give us another option if we’re seen,” he said eventually.

Flint nodded and Keeble smiled at the approval.

“Let’s go then. You up to Singing us all the way through?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Just one more then. We obviously can’t use the door.” Flint gestured to Tasko’s handiwork. Whoever was outside was starting to get serious about getting in but it would still be a while. The timber wasn’t giving up without a fight.

So after Singing through one more wall, Keeble was happy to fall in behind as Flint strode confidently along a hallway, heading in the wrong direction, until he came to the first intersection. The troll paused at the corner, peeking around, before he was off again.

“Shouldn’t we be careful?” Keeble asked as they walked right down the center of the hall, past doors on either side.

“Am being careful. What do you think we going to do if someone walks out one of these doors? Where you think we going to hide?”

Keeble looked around though he already knew there was nowhere to hide. Sneaking furtively along, clinging to a wall wouldn’t be much help at all. “We could go through one of the doors,” he suggested.

“Yeah, but until we know where the bad guys are coming from how do we know which side is best?”

They reached another T-intersection and Flint examined the options again. He leaned against one of the stone walls and looked up and down the hall. “Is that the outside wall?” he asked, pointing to the wall opposite their passage. It didn’t look any different to any other wall.

“No,” Bargle said, saving Keeble the effort. All the dwarves would know the building’s measurements from their time on the roof. “It’s four meters beyond.”

Flint nodded slowly as he continued to examine the passage. Eventually he shrugged and picked a direction. Keeble followed, looking around all the while. His companions were doing the same, though the trolls would probably pick up any danger long before anyone else. Thirty meters down was a door. Sandy raced to the front when Flint started to turn the handle. They burst through within moments of each other and Keeble trotted in behind.

It took Keeble a moment to react. During that time the two trolls knocked three hurgon unconscious. Then they started to pummel another couple. They seemed to be off duty guards who, somehow, hadn’t been roused by the general emergency. Others were standing along the walls, blinking in astonishment as they woke.

When he had his bearings, Keeble chose one of these half-asleep figures. He charged forward. He might hinder the trolls more than he helped them, but the longer this took the more risk there was.

At the last moment, Keeble wondered if the hurgon had stomachs. He dropped his shoulder and barreled into the alien. He didn’t know what his action did exactly, but it had a satisfyingly effect.

“There are too many,” Tamidilin said. She was flailing about with her fists and feet in a graceful and effective manner. Suldon was no less aesthetically pleasing, but even more effective. Bargle and Tasko were working in tandem. Only Nina stood back and watched, probably never having said a harsh word to anyone in her life. The dwife wrung her hands and looked from combatant to combatant. Hurgon were coming through another door.

Flint stopped his pounding for a moment to point. “There, Keeble, let’s go.”

“I can’t fight and Sing at the same time.” Keeble wasn’t much of a fighter at all, but neither were the hurgon, guards or not.

“Stinking cats.”

The focus of the battle changed as Keeble’s companions closed in around him. Nina made a mad, weaving dash across the room to join him in the center of the circle as Keeble caught his breath and started to Sing.

With the noise and the pressure it took him a few moments, but he stepped into the wall almost before the Song was focused. With hardly a look he jumped down to the packed earth of the gap. Nina crashed into his back and he almost lost concentration. He clamped onto his Song as more of his companions, the whole scrum of them, followed.

Flint and Sandy came last, but a few of the braver hurgon came as well. Three hit the ground hard, only to be thumped by the trolls before they had time to think. Another two were trapped in the wall when Keeble finished his Song. One was crushed instantly, fused with the stone, just its ugly, square-jawed face showing. The other was caught by the leg and flopped down to crash against the wall. It screamed and thrashed as it hung upside down by a twist of flesh and bone.

Keeble couldn’t reach the alien to put it out of its misery. Those who could reach weren’t inclined to do so. Tamidilin and Suldon watched in horror, as did almost everyone else. Flint and Sandy urged them all to get moving.

“Come on,” Sandy said.

Keeble allowed himself to be dragged down the narrow alley between the towering buildings.

A hundred meters further down a kink in a wall offered a deeper patch of darkness. Flint crouched there and waited for everyone else to catch up.

“Flint,” Keeble said when he was hidden away as well. He struggled to catch his breath. “I thought I was in charge.”

“You is.”

“Right. Then next time you want to do something trollish—like march into an unknown room—how about you ask me first.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He smiled. “I’m a troll. You got to point things like that out to me.”

Keeble shook his head but smiled back. “Now what?”

Flint shrugged. “There won’t be any doors into this alley—not near here anyway—so...”

“Why not?”

“No point having all that security in the big room if somebody can just go to one of the back doors and sneak in that way.”

“Right. Of course.”

“So we just decide which side we want to be on and you Sing us through.”

“I think that side.” Keeble pointed to the wall opposite the one they’d emerged through. “They probably have no idea about all the commotion. If they do, they still won’t be expecting us.”

“You’re no fun.”

Keeble smiled up at the older man. “It’s the price of leadership, lad. You’ll learn one day.”

“Need to rest first?”

“For a moment, yes.”

They sat quietly and rested. Back the way they’d come, the screaming hurgon finally fell silent. That made resting a whole lot easier.

Suldon pulled out the hurgon book Kim had given him and opened the cover. Keeble leaned back against the wall and rested while the elf strained to see the words on the page. Tamidilin looked over his shoulder and they were arguing about ‘phonetics’ and ‘personal pronouns’ in a matter of moments.

Keeble didn’t know how long he sat there, listening to the elves, listening for sounds of pursuit. He may have dozed. The afterglow of his Singing lulled him.

“It’ll be morning soon,” Flint said. “We don’t want to stay here all day. We should get going.”

Keeble sighed and nodded. “All right.” Pushing himself to his feet he crossed to the far side of the gap and laid his hand against the stone. He Sang, and stepped into the wall to see what was beyond.

The room was only two meters to a side, with thick carpet and some type of tapestry on the wall. The only light came through a partially open door. There was a hurgon standing against one of the walls, possibly asleep.

“There’s someone in there,” Keeble said around his Song once he was back out in the open again. “A small room. One person.”

Flint cracked his knuckles. “No problem then. A good staging area. Won’t be a moment.”

“No, Flint.”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if Keeble was deliberately taking away his fun.

“Sandy, go through and close the door. Flint, stop the hurgon from warning anyone else, but don’t harm it.”

“Don’t harm it?”

“That’s right. Instead of just thumping everyone, let’s ask some questions.”

Flint tugged on his moustache and smiled. “Huh. That’s why you’re the boss.”

“Apparently.”

The two trolls went through the wall. Keeble waited a few seconds then followed.

In the darkness, he could see that his orders had been obeyed. The hurgon, with yellow skin and dark eyes, was looking terrified but watched with obvious interest as people continued to come in through the wall.

“Suldon, tell it that we don’t want to do it any harm. If it answers our questions we’ll be on our way.”

While Suldon translated Keeble tried to work out exactly what he was going to say. He needed to find out all he could without giving anything away.

Elves had a way with words. Grunting, he turned to Suldon and Tamidilin for advice.

23: Committees

It wasn’t enough that Tuki had his own room for sleeping, he also discovered he had his own office. It had to be for him. He sat at the moai-sized desk for a long time, palms laid flat on the dusty surface, and wondered what he was supposed to do there.

Dozens of drawers lined one of the walls and when he got up to look, Tuki discovered files. He pulled one out and started to read slowly.

“‘Calaneka. Phazer Prime 4. Calaneka was colonized by Dapudo immigrants in the year 4325. The mission was funded by a private corporation based in Old Hapagi which hired Juowopa IV, the largest colony transport available at that time.’“

Tuki skimmed through some more files, reading about different worlds and the people who lived there. Each file contained a few dozen pages and gave out information about religion, orbit patterns, alliances, revenue and a dozen other things he didn’t understand.

Holding a file in his hand after reading about Yapin’s Grin Wars, he ran his eyes over all the drawers.

“Are they all full of files?” he asked softly. But he could not understand why, when the computer could have held all the information quite easily. Although... The computers did not work in the other universe, so if you wanted to learn about your destination while you were travelling...

Tuki carefully put the file back in the drawer and sat back down at his desk. He had seen the desks in the other offices and each of those had a computer sitting on it. This one was just a large black surface. He opened the drawer in front of him and discovered a keyboard. The top drawer to his right hid a set of controls similar to those on his console in the bridge. Pressing the power button he watched as the top of his desk lit up like a computer screen.

“It is like the skyglass.” Selecting a star, Tuki gently touched it with the tip of his finger. Information appeared in a box nearby. The coordinates. The type of star. Number of planets. Number of habitable planets. Number of inhabited planets. Number of space habitats. Population.

Another point of light and another list.

“I wonder if I can find Hulgorn,” he muttered. He typed the name into the keyboard but no results were found. Perhaps the planet was known by a different name when the file was created. So he used the controls to center the image on the ship.

At one end of the desk was a bright yellow light the size of a pea. The word ‘Tapalinda’ hung in the air beside it. Halfway down was a tiny point of light called ‘Kitawera’. Down the other end was ‘Tapalinda Minor’.

Tuki touched his index finger to Kitawera then locked the new information.

“Kitawera is the home world of the alien race which calls itself hurgon. The planet and its people were discovered in 4189 by the UMEF Scout Ship Kitawera which was carrying out routine inspections of all G-type stars in the area. Being a race confined to one world and never having looked beyond themselves the hurgon had no name for their world and the Captain adopted the present nomenclature.

“Hakans and the hurgon have had little contact, with most experts believing that to interfere in their technological development may have disastrous long term effects. While others disagree with this view, there are not yet enough to effect a change in policy.

“The hurgon seem to be in the early stages of an industrial revolution. Most information about them has been gained through the interception of primitive radio signals.”

“I will have to update the files,” Tuki said. And he started using the keyboard, typing information into the keyboard one finger at a time. He did not know if all the information he was typing in was completely correct, and he did not know if he was spelling all the words correctly, but he would let Kim and the elves worry about that later. All he was worried about now was having something to do.

If only there was some information about the multeese, Tuki thought. And he wondered why there wouldn’t be. It was possible such creatures had been around a long time and they had mentioned the word often enough. He found the search function on the computer and typed the word multeese with shaking fingers. The lights on the desk flashed. Information appeared on the screen.

“According to Hadrint Trycod Ti Delamanan of the Wanakama people, the multeese were created in a laboratory by an ancient race known only as Zo. Trycod states that eese gas particles were treated (details of this are unclear) in an attempt to create energy. This experiment failed but when a certain critical mass was reached the gas cloud became a reasoning being. The difficulty for the multeese, lies in the fact that each particle remains self aware—with its own desires and agendas—but no ability to act without a general consensus from the cloud. What results is a being run by committee.

“Trycod also suggests that the multeese lacks any gender at all and has no suggestion as to methods of reproduction.

“As ever, Trycod is reluctant to share his source material. This, added with his known loose handling of facts, has led many to doubt all of his conclusions.”

The page ended and Tuki hit the button for more information. The notes continued. “Things that are universally believed? The multeese think all other creatures are inferior and want them dead. The multeese may well be right, for they have technology far beyond anything we have ever seen. Many other species agree. The multeese never stay still—their ships (or perhaps it is just one ship) rove constantly around the known galaxy, turning up without warning and moving on as quickly, often leaving in the middle of battles for no apparent reason. (Some might conclude that this supports Trycod’s assertion that it is a being run by committee.)

“No matter the background or the reasons, in the end one thing is certain—all species, all races dread the arrival of the multeese ships.” Tuki sat back. In fifty thousand years the multeese had not changed at all. And apparently, though everyone was against them, they still did as they pleased. He had hoped for information that would help defeat the aliens but it appeared that nobody could help.

He might have sat there all day, staring at the line of letters, trying to find something in them that would save everyone, but there was a knock at the door. “Ummm... Yes?” he said.

Stone entered the room and looked around, taking in everything. “We got problems.”

“Pardon?” Why was Stone telling him?

“Problems. All them hurgon outside look like they’re finally tired of sitting around. They’re moving.”

He thought for a moment, because that seemed the thing to do. “Where?”

“Don’t know. Some are going, some are coming, some are just moving a bit. All looks very complicated.”

“Where is Meledrin?”

“Sleeping.”

“Oh. And Ping?”

“Sleeping.”

“Oh.”

“You’re it for now, Tuki. We can wake one of them up if you want, but you got to tell us.”

He scratched at his nose as he tried to work the problem through. Stone was examining his face as carefully as he had examined the room earlier. Tuki thought of telling him to go and rouse Meledrin—she had been left in charge, after all—but what could the elf do to help? She could talk to the hurgon, but if anything else was to be done there were people better suited to the task.

Tuki worked at the controls of his desk for a moment until he had a view of the outside of the ship. The hurgon were indeed moving, though it was all meaningless to him. After long seconds, he still had not come up with an answer.

He finally realized that he didn’t need to come up with an answer. It was no point him asking Meledrin but, as he had already decided, there were others.

“Can we get Captain Thorpe and Sergeant McCree to help?” he thought for a moment more. “And Chasm and Cliff?”

Stone smiled and nodded, which made Tuki wonder if he was being tested. “I’ll get Chasm to bring the humans with her when she comes up.” The troll looked around again. “In here?”

“Umm...”

“How about the security office. It’s made for this kind of stuff.”

“Very well, then.”

He and Stone met the others there to listen to what they had to say.

When Meledrin had first told Kim that the hurgon were surrounding the ship, the instructions had been to hold the ship. The ground party were not replying to radio signals, so Tuki and his security party decided that, without differing instruction, that was what they had to do.

Yellow troop were finished in the hold, so they would man the guns and fire on any hurgon taking decisive action against the ship. They would not fire indiscriminately and they would not kill more than was absolutely necessary.

Tuki walked out of Scree’s office after the meeting to discover that the four weapons control chairs located there were already being manned. Trolls were strapping themselves in, talking all the while.

“Perhaps I should tell Meledrin before we do anything,” Tuki said, looking over his shoulder at the others in the office.

Stone nodded. “If we’re attacked we’ll try to hold off until we get confirmation.”

Out in the foyer, Tuki stopped and looked up at the lights. They did not seem very bright at all. Two dwarves, Milo and Dogar, were wandering past with toolkits.

“Is there something wrong with the lights?” Tuki asked.

Milo shook his head. “The lights are dim because it’s night.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. According to Ping. From now on the lights in the common areas of the ship will be dim for 500 hundred minutes between the hours of 2500 and 0500.”

“Umm.. How long is the day?”

“1500 minutes. 30 fifty minute hours.”

“All right.” Tuki shrugged, though he thought it was strange that Ping would just decide to make it night-time. It could well be the middle of the day outside, though with the persistent smoke it was hard to tell. He headed down the stairs and left the dwarves to their work. On Level 2 he tried to remember which room was Meledrin’s, then knocked quietly on the door.

The door slid open a small way and Meledrin stood peeking through the gap. Her hair was messed and it looked as if she had not been sleeping at all. Tuki could hear movement behind her.

“What is it, Tuki?”

“The hurgon in the square are doing something. They are all moving and... stuff.”

“Give me a moment.”

“There is no need...”

“Pardon?”

Tuki blushed and looked at his feet. “I talked to some of the soldiers and trolls. The guns are being manned. If the hurgon try anything the trolls will shoot them.”

Meledrin raised an eyebrow. “You gave the trolls permission to shoot hurgon?”

“Only if the hurgon attacked us first. And they have to kill as few as possible. You are in charge though. Kim said. So I thought I would check with you first, so you can make another decision if you wish.”

“You did not make those decisions on your own?”

Tuki shook his head.

“Captain Thorpe and Stone were involved?”

Tuki nodded. “And the last we heard from Kim was that we should hold the ship,” he said.

“That is correct.” Meledrin looked back over her shoulder for a moment. “You have done well. I am not needed. Good night.” Then she was gone and Tuki was staring at the door.

And it was night. Tuki looked up at the ceiling lights and decided he should go to bed—he was tired and all the reading and typing had given him a headache. But it had also been hours since he had anything to eat. The dwives were going to be working out a roster for the cooking, but had not done anything yet so everyone was left to their own devices when it came to organizing food.

Tuki made his way to the stairs again and went down to the mess hall on Level 3. There were ten others at the tables, though there was nobody in the adjoining kitchen. Instead of going to the counter where meals would one day be collected, he went to one of the walls where there were machines that dispensed snacks. The dwarves had been restocking them earlier and anyone could take what they wanted.

Working his way from machine to machine, Tuki selected four silver packages that all looked the same apart from the labels on the outside. There was mango, apple, watermelon and something called muesli. When he opened the muesli he found that it consisted of a variety of grains glued together. It did not look very good, but tasted interesting. He also pushed a lever and was rewarded with a rich, dark drink of hot chocolate. He had tried the coffee and did not like that, but chocolate was another matter.

When he turned around, Tuki saw Ruby sitting at one of the tables watching him. He was surprised that he did not hesitate before going to sit across from her.

“You are not eating?” he asked.

“No. I was just about to leave.”

“Oh.”

She laughed. “Don’t look so sad. I was about to leave before you sat down. Now I’m staying.”

Tuki smiled, before realizing the first part of what she had said. Had he really been saddened by the thought of her leaving and had it really been so clear on his face.

Once again, sitting with Ruby, he thought of Keala. He had thought Keala beautiful and smart and interesting. Looking back, he knew that she had thought exactly the same things about herself. Ruby was all those things, and more, but did not seem to realize. He discovered he was staring at Ruby’s face, at her sharp green eyes, and blushed. Lowering his gaze he concentrated on his meal.

“Hey, Rube?” Bones called from the door.

“Yeah, Bones.”

Tuki had forgotten that Bones, his guard, was even there.

“You right to guard Tuki for a while?” the troll asked. “I don’t think Kim’d mind if you took over.”

Ruby eyed Tuki up and down—as much as was possible with the table between them—and smiled. “Yeah, I think I got it.”

“Good. Crystal’s got the skyglass up on the bridge.”

Ruby waved him away and spoke to Tuki. “I hear you’ve been organizing the troops.” She smiled again. “And Stone and Chasm and Cliff all listened to you.”

“I listened to them more. They came up with plans and I just agreed.”

“But Stone said it was your idea to get them all together. Them and the humans.”

“I am sure he’d already thought of that.”

“That isn’t the point. It was a good idea. And Stone knew it was a good idea, and now he knows that you can come up with good ideas too. Come up with another couple and soon they will give all of your ideas some thought to see if they might be good too.”

Tuki was sure he was blushing all the way to his bones. He crunched on his muesli and pushed the crumbs around on the table. “You wanted to play chess?” he asked, changing the subject. The game pieces were not exactly the same as chess pieces, but close enough.

She nodded, but she too dipped her head. “Well, you’ll have to show me how.”

“Would you like to?”

She nodded. “Now?”

“Umm...” He hadn’t meant that but... “If you want.”

“Here?”

There was no reason why they couldn’t. “I have some of those music cubes in my cabin,” he said, swallowing loudly. “We could listen to them if we played there.”

“Okay. How about I get a board then and meet you there in a couple of minutes?” It appeared as if Ruby was ready to leap out of her chair and race out of the mess. Tuki nodded, and she did just that. Collecting his packets of food and his cup of chocolate, Tuki made his way to the lift.

#

The first cube Tuki put into the little machine was loud and clanging. He thought it would give him another headache. He removed that one and inserted another just as Ruby came through the door.

Tuki turned and saw Ruby carrying a chessboard and box of pieces. She had changed out of her EVA suit into a blue, sleeveless dress that came half way down her thighs.

“Do you like my dress?” She did a twirl.

Tuki nodded and swallowed.

“It’s my first one. They never made a lot of sense to me before.” She crossed the room and Tuki noticed that she was not wearing any shoes. She noticed him looking and wiggled her toes. “Barefoot never made much sense before either. And showers? Who’d have thought...”

Tuki nodded again. He had noticed the scent. He noticed the beating of his heart. He thought he should say something. “You smell like flowers,” he said, then wished he hadn’t.

But Ruby smiled. “Thank you.” Head bowed, she hurried across to the table and put down the chessboard.

Tuki was glad he had mentioned the scent. It drifted around her like adoring children around a princess.

“Chip said I smelled like a cemetery,” she said.

Tuki did not know what to say to that. He wanted to say something but he had used up all his courage.

“That’s nice music,” Ruby said into the lull.

Tuki turned to look at the music player, hearing it for the first time. The new cube had soft flowing music made with pipes and a fiddle. “I got it from the library,” he said, though she already knew that. Where else would he have gotten if from?

They stopped speaking again. Music and the scent of flowers drifted around the room.

“Are we going to play?” Ruby sat down and started to take pieces from the box. She set them up randomly at either end of the board and Tuki had to gather his thoughts and try to remember the correct positions.

#

“You will be beating me soon.” Tuki smiled when he said it, but he knew it was true. Not that it bothered him at all. He would let her beat him every day if it meant he could sit there and play against her.

Ruby shrugged and examined the pieces remaining on the board. “Maybe. You said you liked cards more, though.”

It was Tuki’s turn to shrug. “They are both good. It is what is happening other than the game that is more important. And tonight I like chess.”

“I like chess too.” Ruby played with her king and Tuki examined her hand. “I have to go and sleep now though,” Ruby continued. “I have to sit in one of the guns tomorrow.”

“When?”

A shrug. “Tomorrow.”

She started to put the pieces back into the box and Tuki turned away from her hand to look at the bed. “You could sleep here,” he said quietly.

The clatter of chess pieces into the container stopped. Tuki turned and saw Ruby with a knight held above the opening.

“Really?”

He had thought she would say no. Swallowing, he turned back to the bed. It was big enough for two. Tuki finally understood why some people wanted to share beds, if it meant that one or the other did not have to go home. He felt a stirring in his groin. “If you want.”

Tuki and Ruby both stood up at the same time, then stayed where they were. Eventually, Ruby left the rest of the chess pieces on the table and went to lie on the bed and climbed beneath the covers. Tuki watched her go, then made his way slowly to the light switch by the door.

After turning off the light a dim grey remained—just enough to see. Ruby was lying on her side, facing the center of the bed. He wanted to stay where he was all night to make sure he could remember how she looked. The curve of her hip, hidden beneath the blanket but still beautiful. The way her red hair fell across the pillow.

But Ruby turned slightly to look at him and threw back the covers. He moved to the bed and carefully lay down. He clung to the edge of the bed, but Ruby moved closer.

He opened his mouth to speak, though he did not know what he intended to say. Ruby saved him the trouble of giving it thought when she leaned forward and touched her lips to his. It was not like his kisses with Keala had been—there were no tongues or coiled tension. It was gentle and brief and tasted that much sweeter.

Tuki did not want to think of Keala—he wanted her to go away—but... “When Keala kissed me,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off Ruby’s, “she said there was more.”

“There is more, Tuki. A lot more. But not tonight.”

Tuki sighed. “That is what she always said. But there was never any more.”

She touched her finger to his lips. “There will be more, Tuki. I promise.” She kissed him again, briefly, and Tuki discovered that he did not mind waiting. He did not mind at all.

24: Two Options

Keeble stared at Sandy. “What do you mean he isn’t answering? He can’t be that far away.”

The trollop shrugged. “I’m calling in the right spot, he just ain’t answering.”

“So, he’s sleeping?”

“Don’t think so. You hear a voice in your head you usually wake up. I do anyway. Don’t reckon Scree would be any different.”

“Well...” Keeble didn’t want to think about what that might mean. He sat on the floor and looked at the old hurgon. It squatted in the corner, looking warily at Flint, who stood guard. Suldon and Tami had talked the creature in circles for half an hour, trying to get it to say what they wanted without actually asking. In the end Keeble had decided it was easier to just ask outright.

They’d asked Penisari, back on the Hakahei to supply the names of a dozen hurgon families. And Suldon asked their prisoner for the location of them all, with the P’targa family thrown in the middle.

So now they knew. A hundred kilometers to the north. On the Gosen S’peka Railway line. But what were they to do? Keeble was wracked by indecision. Which fool had put him in charge? He tugged on his short beard while he tried to think.

If Kim and Scree had been captured did they need rescuing or would Scree work something out? If they needed rescuing could Keeble and his small group do the rescuing on their own or would they need back up? If they could not be rescued at all, would all of the convoluted plans in the world do those remaining on the Hakahei any good at all? If nothing else—who’d fly the ship?

“What’s next then?” Bargle asked. He examined the lock on the door as if wanting to pull it apart.

Keeble was going to shrug but restrained himself. He looked at Flint. “Any suggestions?”

“What you thinking now?”

“Two options. Wait until we hear from Scree and let them worry about the decision. Or look for the...” He looked at the hurgon and decided against saying the word P’targa in case the alien recognized it amongst the rest of the babble, unlikely though it was. “Or head north now.”

Flint nodded and gave the matter some thought though Keeble was pretty sure he knew what the troll would say. Flint obliged: “I say we start looking. We don’t know how long we’ll have to wait for Scree. We could spend the next day sitting here like a bunch of tree stumps.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. Tasko?”

“He’s right. We might find what we’re after before we hear from Scree and Kim.”

Keeble nodded slowly. “Suldon?” The elf looked surprised to be asked. Keeble was slightly surprised to be asking. Just trying to spread the blame, he thought.

“As Flint says, there is no point waiting. We may wait forever.”

Forever? Keeble had been trying to avoid thinking about forever.

He looked at Tami and, after a moment, the elf nodded. Nina nodded as well.

Still, Keeble wasn’t sure. What if they needed help? What if they were just a hundred meters away? Why had the two people in charge—the two best equipped to lead the Hakahei both left the ship? Who would lead them now. Not Meledrin. That was crazy—even she would admit that. Maybe Thorpe? Or Palsamon. Palsamon seemed like a sensible, intelligent person, especially for an elf. Or even Flint. Flint might well be the best option. No matter who it was, they would need the help of some of the hurgon. He sighed. “I guess we’re going north then.”

“A hundred kilometers though?” Flint said. “Long way to run.”

Keeble smiled. “We will have to steal some form of transport.” Tasko and Bargle were smiling with him.

“What about that?” Flint asked, pointing to the hurgon.

“Is there anything we can tie it up with? We only need half an hour start.”

“Nothing in here,” Sandy said. “Let me check.” She opened the door, checked for activity, then slipped out. She returned a few minutes later with a large piece of cloth. She tore a strip off the side, but obviously wasn’t happy about the strength.

“Let’s plait them,” Nina said.

“Yeah.” Sandy smiled and the two of them started to work.

A few minutes later—far too quick for Keeble’s liking—they were ready to go. Given a couple of more hours he might have been able to come up with a plan but...

“We need to find the Gosen S’peka Railway.” He wound the gears on his hand for a moment. “Ask the hurgon, Suldon. That railway could go to a hundred places.”

Flint removed the alien’s gag and waited while Suldon asked the question. When the elf nodded, the gag was replaced.

“Two kilometers that way.” Suldon pointed generally westwards with a long, pale finger.

“Let’s do it,” Flint said.

Keeble wished he’d said that. He nodded and rose to his feet. “Two kilometers through these buildings could take all day. Probably can’t go a hundred meters in a straight line.”

“We can always go through the walls.”

Keeble shook his head. “You’d be carrying me before a kilometer was gone.”

“Guess we go the long way then.” Flint ducked out the door, turned to the right, and raced away. Sandy went next, following her companion’s directions in her head and leading the group.

They moved quickly at first, jogging down the quiet passages, moving generally westward. Every now and then Keeble would see Flint race along a joining passage as he scouted the best route through the twists and turns. Once, they stopped in the middle of a T-intersection and, after several minutes, the troll raced through their midst.

“Dead end,” he said as he passed. When he was gone around the next bend, Sandy followed again.

Then, seemingly between one moment and the next, between one passage and the next, something changed. Suddenly there were hurgon everywhere. The light didn’t seem all that much different and there had been nothing to suggest a change of shift... They just stepped out of doors, wandered along passages, appeared as if by magic.

Keeble crouched near an intersection, looking over Sandy’s shoulder at a closed wooden door. He wound the gears on his hand, clutching at nothing. Flint seemed to be taking forever.

Just when Keeble was ready to race across and burst through the door to see if Flint needed any help, the troll poked his head out and beckoned them across. Keeble was halfway across the hall before anyone else had moved.

The small room was decorated with a hurgon lying under the twisted remains of a wooden shelf. Another was reclining on what was now a three-legged, square table and a third was thrown in the corner like dirty washing.

Flint was bruised and bleeding from a cut above his eye.

“Are you all right?”

Flint nodded but touched the cut. “Bloody bastard snuck up behind me while I was busy with the other two. Hit me with that thing.” He pointed to what looked a bit like a candelabrum.

“That cut doesn’t look good,” Keeble said, though he didn’t know much about such things. Both the trolls would have more experience in such matters.

“I’ll live.”

But Nina seemed to have other ideas. “Here, it won’t take a moment.” After a lip-chewing, brow-wrinkling moment, she went collected a tablecloth and fashioned a bandage.

“So what’s though the other door,” Keeble said, motioning to the door the surprise hurgon had come through.

“Workshop,” Flint said, touching the bandage as if it was a new invention.

A workshop? But Keeble kept himself thinking clearly. “Nobody else in there?” He saw Tasko sidling towards the door.

“What do you reckon?”

Keeble beat Tasko to the door and pulled it open. The next room was twenty meters long with all manner of machinery lined up along one of the walls. Three huge engines were chugging away. Curls of smoke escaped through two windows set up near the ceiling. Jobs had been left unfinished, though Keeble supposed that the three unconscious hurgon could be excused. Bargle pushed past and went to look.

Keeble wanted to join him, examining the strange tools and trying to work out what the engines were for. But he was in charge and had more important things to do. He took a deep breath to harden his resolve and crossed quickly to one of the idle the machines. He looked around the room—What was that over there? And that?—as he tested to see if the machine was hot. It wasn’t, so he climbed up, using a loop of pipe, a bolt and a bent bracket as foot- and handholds. He reached the window and looked out.

There was another gap outside to divide the different families. Keeble sat on the wide stone sill and leaned out. He looked to the left and right. Fifty meters to the right, the gap turned.

“Anything interesting?” Sandy asked. She climbed up and leaned out to look as well.

“Down there,” Keeble said, pointing to the turn. “It might almost run the right direction.

Sandy squinted in the half-light that posed as both day and night in Hulgorn. “Might do. Can’t be any worse than dancing round in here.”

“Me first then.” Keeble turned around and prepared to lower himself to the ground. His mechanical arm scraped against the stone as he tried to keep his balance.

“Need a hand?” Sandy asked.

“Oh, very funny.” But he took her offered hand and started over the edge. The trollop lowered him as far as possible then let go.

Keeble hit the ground awkwardly and fell. By the time he had climbed to his feet and dusted himself off, Nina was out the window and preparing to drop as well. While the rest of his companions exited the building, Keeble jogged down to the bend to see what he could see.

It wasn’t as good as he’d hoped. The path between buildings only went for a hundred meters but, as Sandy had said, it was better than being inside. The others caught up and they all moved on together.

“No word from Scree?”

Flint shook his head.

“And the ship?”

“Talked to Meledrin a while ago. The hurgon are still outside the ship, but other than that...”

“And they haven’t—”

“They haven’t heard from Scree either.”

They reached the end wall. Keeble craned his neck to look up. The roof was five stories above on either side and six at the end. There were no windows lower than the fourth floor. There was no way they were going anywhere except through the stone.

“I think we’ve come about a thousand meters,” Keeble said, though he was far from sure. It was hard to keep track with all the twisting and turning they’d done. Tasko was nodding in agreement, but he didn’t look sure either. “We might be half way.”

Keeble took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and started to Sing. He did it slowly, building the layers, enjoying the power growing within him. He could feel the magic dancing along his skin, clearing his pores. He could feel the tingle in his fingers and toes.

When the Song was complete, filling him, he focused on the stone and stepped forward. The wall here was thicker than usual. He took one step, two. He was about to take a third when a big hand reached out from behind and pulled him back. A blast of air washed against the insubstantial stone. He could feel it thought he couldn’t really because the stone was still there. A train rumbled past barely half a meter away.

Keeble stood, eyes wide, mouth continuing the Song through instinct alone. Flint, standing by his side in the center of the wall and still gripping his collar, must have known that he risked breaking his concentration.

“You didn’t feel that shaking everything?” Flint shouted, watching the train rumble by.

Keeble shook his head. But he had felt it. He’d merely though it didn’t concern him. He was expecting danger to come in the form of hurgon. He’d been reveling in the feel of his Song instead of concentrating.

The train went rumbling on. It was almost a shock when it was no longer there.

Taking a deep breath around his Song, Keeble stepped forward and into the clear. The train lines were just a step away. On the other side was a slightly raised path with regularly spaced gas lanterns above. Keeble looked both directions then hurried across. He sat down to calm his heart while he waited for the others.

“Are you sure the hurgon said two kilometers, Suldon?” he asked when he finally let his Song go.

Suldon nodded, then shook his head. “The hurgon do not have kilometers. They do not have any measurement that I have ever known. I thought... Perhaps I did not do the math correctly.” He cleared his throat. “I was never very good at math.”

“Never good at...” Keeble took a deep breath to calm himself again.

“Perhaps there are two train lines,” Tasko offered. “Perhaps we still have to go another kilometer to get to the right one.”

Keeble looked up and down the passage, as if a sign would appear to tell him what he wanted to know. He gave a bark of laughter—even if a sign did appear he wouldn’t be able to read it.

“So,” Flint said. “Where do we go now?”

Keeble shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t stop now.”

“Well, obviously we go north.”

“If it’s so obvious why didn’t you just say it?”

“I did.”

Flint shook his head and started up the tunnel. Keeble pushed himself to his feet to follow.

25: A Good Plan

Keeble whistled as he strode along the walkway at the edge of the tunnel. A soft twilight marked the boundary between each of the gas lamps but everything was visible. It was almost a kilometer to the nearest station but, walking along the tunnel with no aliens to dodge or doors to check, it took barely fifteen minutes.

Once there, they hid in the shadows for a long time, looking for signs of life and hoping no trains were due.

Nothing moved.

A passage half way along the platform led away at right angles. Further along a huge wooden door, banded in studded iron, was closed. Flint was crouching by the tracks, one hand resting on the cold metal rail. Keeble stood behind him. They waited. Flint looked over his shoulder then turned to examine the station again.

“Are you waiting for me to say something?” Keeble asked after a while.

Flint grunted, straightened the bandage on his head, and stalked forward. He jumped up onto the platform and moved to stand behind a thick, ugly column. Keeble scanned the area. Nothing happened. Flint moved forward again to stand in front of the passage. He looked at the door.

Eventually he turned and beckoned the rest of them forward.

Keeble hauled himself up onto the huge tiles of the platform and jogged across to the troll. “It’s very quiet,” he said. “And dirty.”

Flint nodded and stared down the passage as if he could hear something.

“That looks like a map,” Sandy said, pointing to a mess of lines painted onto one of the walls. Keeble went across for a closer look, as did Suldon and Tami.

There were different colored lines coming and going and there were labeled boxes covering the lines at various points.

“Is she right?”

Sudlon shrugged, but Tami was shaking her head slowly. “It could be.”

“How do we know where we are?”

Flint came to look as well. “We are somewhere on that line there,” he said. “Either that square or that one. Maybe.”

Keeble looked at him. “How do you know?”

“That has to be the hub where we started,” he said, pointing to where all the lines seemed to meet. “We moved almost directly east from there and passed under two of the sky glide things.” The troll tapped the wall where a red line—the only thing that went almost directly east—passed under first one blue line and then another. “This small junction here must be the T’loop compound, or near it, them being an important family and all.”

Keeble was nodding. “And the line we’re on now runs basically north south, so it must be that one.”

Flint nodded.

“But that means it isn’t the right line.”

On the map, another line went almost directly north from the hub, swung east, then turned again to run parallel to their own for a long way. For a while, the two lines were so close they almost touched. They skipped away from each other, only to come back together and actually join further north.

“Suldon did the sums right after all,” Sandy offered.

Keeble turned towards the elf to sneer, but wound the gears on his hand and nodded instead. Suldon nodded back.

“So,” Keeble said, “how do we catch a train?”

As if to make a point, there was a rumbling in the distance and, a minute later, a train thundered through the station. And the point was—you don’t catch a train. It didn’t stop. It didn’t slow. It went and went and went until Keeble wondered if it would ever end.

“We could jump on one as it goes past,” Suldon shouted over the noise.

Keeble turned to look at him. Was the elf making a joke? On Suldon’s other side, Flint was watching the train as if the plan had merit.

“We won’t be jumping onto the train,” Keeble shouted. He doubted the trolls would have a chance—it was certain nobody else would.

Eventually the train passed and the silence that remained was deafening. Keeble continued to stare and might have stayed there all day if Nina had not spoken.

“Look at this.” She was pointing to a spot on the wall-map. “The boxes must be stations, I think. Most of them are centered over the line. But there’s one between our line and the one next to it.”

Keeble examined the picture. She was right. A short distance to the north—if all their guessing was correct—there was a station marked that seemed to hover between the two lines.

Nina turned to look at everyone. “Perhaps that means that the two lines share the station. Perhaps if we follow this line just a little further we’ll be able to move to the other line with no problems at all.”

Except that a station shared by two lines would probably be busy. He tugged on his beard and looked for other possibilities.

Tasko was shaking his head but Keeble ignored him. A week ago he’d been a Wanderer and less than a dwife. How could he suddenly become more worthy of respect while the dwives could not? Nina had come up with a good idea, why should it not be acknowledged? Ari used to have good ideas all the time, though he’d ignored them for the most part.

Keeble cleared his throat. “Sounds good, Nina. Let’s go and have a look then, shall we?”

Nina smiled and nodded, blushing slightly. Keeble nodded back. He marched to the train line, checked for trains, and jumped down to the walkway.

“Do you think the hurgon have any food we can eat?” Bargle asked as he too checked for trains.

#

The station was even busier than Keeble expected. There were two lines with thirty meters of plain grey tiles between. But there were platforms on the outside of the two lines as well. It seemed as if the station was caught between two different family compounds. One side had guards in blue pantaloons and white shirts, the other in pink and black. On the middle platform it looked as if neither group knew who was in charge. They stared at each other across the tiles, constantly checking their weapons and all but ignoring the pandemonium around them.

The train that had passed through the deserted station was still here. The last three carriages were accessible. Steam trucks were sitting up on the platform, waiting while hurgon unloaded crates. They huffed and puffed, trucks and aliens both. Hundreds of other hurgon moved around them, coming and going from the train, unloading smaller cargoes, wandering around as if they had nothing better to do than look.

Keeble watched for a long time, but nothing seemed to change beyond the changes of the moment. The crowds did not thin. The guards did not wander off to walk a patrol.

Just as the train on their line left, another pulled in across the other side, disgorging passengers like a swarm of insects.

“So, there’s a train,” Flint said. “How do we get across there and get on it?”

Keeble watched some more. “I think your plan is perfect, Flint.”

The troll eyed him suspiciously. “Which plan is that?”

“We run and we jump on it.”

“We do?” He tugged at his moustache and looked across at the train.

“Yes.”

“Not sure if I like that plan.”

“Not urging me to be cautious, are you?”

“Well... Them guards do have weapons.”

Keeble nodded. “Do you really think they’ll shoot at us? I mean, even if they work out what’s going on and don’t stand there staring as they try to work out what we are? Do you think they’ll fire their weapons with all these other hurgon around?

“Maybe.”

“Who’s the boss?”

“You are.”

“Well, now is the time to prove that you really mean that. Right now. Look.” Keeble pointed. The train across the other side of the platform was all but empty and the doors had closed. “Let’s go.”

Keeble jumped up onto the platform and started to run. He hoped everyone was following.

He’d gone almost five meters when the first of the hurgon reacted. An old one pointed in his direction and shouted. Keeble looked over his shoulder and saw his companions close behind. The trolls were leading the chase and would overtake him any moment. The elves weren’t far behind.

Keeble turned, narrowly avoided an alien, dodged to the left and kept running. His arms pumped. His breath came in ragged bursts.

Flint sprinted by him and changed course slightly. He was heading for the rear of the train. Keeble kept on in the same direction. He sidestepped around a startled hurgon and slipped between two others who didn’t even realize he was there. Halfway and the guards were starting to move. No two seemed to have the same plan in mind. Sandy wasn’t far behind Flint. They were almost at the train when it started to move.

Flint threw himself at the rearmost door. Keeble could hear the impact, even through the growing noise of the crowd. The troll bounced off but it was as if that was exactly what he expected. He stayed on his feet and, with the train moving forward, watched with Keeble as Sandy had her turn. The door flew open and Sandy was on the train. Flint joined her a moment later and stood, leaning against the jamb, holding his shoulder and beckoning the rest of the group on.

Keeble looked back again. Suldon and Tamidilin were right there, and now that they knew exactly where they were going they increased their pace. Tasko and Bargle were not far behind but already moving as quick as they could. Nina was slowing.

Ahead, the train was gathering speed. Steam hissed, smoke billowed. Sparks flew as steel wheels slipped on steel rails.

Keeble let Tasko and Bargle slip by him and waited for Nina to catch up. The four of them headed for the northern end of the platform but it wasn’t obvious if they’d make it. Keeble tried to calculate, but it was useless. He was tiring and the train driver, oblivious to all that was happening, continued to urge the train forward. Without knowing the rate of acceleration and the extent of Nina’s exhaustion...

“Don’t,” Nina gasped, “Wait. For. Me.”

Keeble barreled into a hurgon and barely stayed upright. He shouted an apology as he set off again and laughed at the absurdity of it. He was last now. The elves reached the edge of the platform and readied themselves to jump. Flint urged them on. Sandy was up the front of the carriage making sure nobody went forward to warn the driver.

A quarter of the train was out of the station and into the tunnel. Tasko and Bargle, realizing they were arriving ahead of schedule, changed course to meet the open door earlier. The elves were finally gone.

Keeble was at the back of the pack and decided to concentrate on running. He watched Nina’s back as he gained on her.

Guards were finally starting to mobilize, converging on the quickly tiring dwife. Nina was starting to panic—Keeble could see it. She looked this way and that, as if seeking the right path when the right path was right there in front of her.

All her looking around meant she didn’t see the luggage on the platform and went down in a pile of duffel bags and leather cases. Hurgon cursed. Nina cried. Keeble slid to a halt by her side and started to pull her to her feet.

“Don’t wait for me,” she said again. “I can’t make it.”

Keeble kept on tugging. “Nobody gets left behind,” he said. That was Kim’s rule—nobody gets left behind. Though Kim and Scree... “Get up or we’ll both be caught.”

Bargle and Tasko leapt onto the train. Only one and a half carriages remained. Guards were closing in.

“Get up now,” Keeble shouted.

He got Nina onto her feet and pushed her forward. Taking her hand he started to run, dragging her behind. She resisted.

“You give up now,” he shouted, looking back at her tear stained face, “and everything dwarves ever thought about dwives will be proven right.”

Nina’s eyes went wide. Her nostrils flared. She found a new reserve of energy and ran on her own.

They were almost there but train was slipping away. Keeble felt hands grasping at his shoulders and looked back. The guards were right there. One reached forward again and Keeble shrugged out of its grip. The train was almost gone, about to slip into the tunnel.

Nina leapt. She grazed her shoulder on the station’s end wall. She was thrown off balance. She twisted, turned in mid air, landed inside the train and...

The door was gone from sight.

Keeble kept running. Two more steps. There was a door on the back of the train with a small landing on the outside.

He jumped.

One foot hit the landing, the other slipped off the edge. Keeble’s whole body crashed against the wood and glass of the door and recoiled. His arms flailed as he struggled to keep his balance. He fell.

In one last act of desperation he reached out with his mechanical hand, grasping for something to hold onto. Anything. But there was nothing.

Until a huge troll fist smashed through the glass of the window. As he tumbled backwards, Keeble saw Flint lunge past the shards of broken glass and latch onto his arm.

Keeble looked at Flint’s hand. Covered in blood. Gashed. He looked at his own hand, gears and leather and buckles.

Good workmanship, he thought. Well done all round.

Flint started to reel him in. The troll was smiling. “Good plan,” he said. “That’s why you’s the boss.”

26: Gone Quietly

Kim leaned against the wall while Scree worked at the door. It was just a normal old timber thing that he probably could have broken in a moment if he’d been willing to make that much noise. But there were hurgon close by. There always were. Everywhere they turned there were aliens doing alien things. There was nowhere to hide. Not for more than a few minutes at any rate. If they could get outside... Every door was guarded. Every window they’d found so far was impossible—too narrow, too high above the ground, barred or right next to where the aliens seemed to congregate. There were hurgon everywhere.

Scree finally got the door open, splitting the timber and breaking the lock. They hurried through.

It felt like they’d been on the move for days and getting nowhere. In truth, it had only been a couple of hours since they split from the rest of the group and they’d been moving constantly since. Every step seemed to take them further away from their companions.

Kim was exhausted—from constant fear as much as the exertion. She knew she was slowing Scree down.

Beyond the door was a small, empty room. There were many of those, as if the hurgon built things, including buildings, for the sake of it and tried to work out what they might do with them later.

They paused again to listen. From beyond the next door came the sounds of a noisy old machine. Scree looked at Kim and she shrugged. What else was she supposed to do? One way was as dangerous as the next, as far as she could tell. They went through into a huge room that was almost completely filled by a monstrous engine. Hurgon swarmed all over it like flies on a dead horse. The machine clunked and rattled and shuddered and seemed to be in constant need of attention. To the left three hurgon, in dark clothes and breathing masks, shoveled coal into a furnace. Towards the back, twenty meters above the ground, another two heaved on a spanner, working at a bolt as big as a dinner plate. On the other side someone had removed an inspection panel and was watching a complex mesh of gears grind inexorably onwards.

Kim felt a touch on her shoulder. Scree pointed to another small door not far away. She nodded and they hurried across to it, dodging a puddle of oil on the floor and ducking beneath a knot of pipes that left a tank and headed out through the wall.

This door was locked as well, but Scree didn’t worry about opening it quietly. He hit it with his shoulder once, twice, and almost fell though as it crashed open.

The room was empty of life. Kim might have thought it a waiting room, but there weren’t any pot plants or five-year-old magazines. There was nobody waiting. Just a dozen seating perches around the walls and a ‘coffee’ table in the center.

There were three other doors, all of them the same. Kim picked the wooden one and pulled it open.

“Whoops.”

A dozen hurgon, all genderless from what Kim could see, were taking showers. They turned to look at her and a dozen pairs of eyes, no two the same color, narrowed in unison.

Behind her, Kim heard Scree offer a trollish version of ‘whoops’. She turned to look. Eight hurgon had come through one of the other doors. Kim guessed that this second group were guards. They paused for a couple of seconds then, as one, they rushed forward to attack.

Scree took two down easily in the first rush. The others immediately slowed and took more care. Scree finished another by darting forward and pounding his fist into its flat, purple face.

Five against Scree? Kim didn’t think they had a hope. But apparently the bathers could see the action and came to the same conclusion. They quickly organized the cavalry and charged the door. Kim, being rushed by naked, dripping aliens, moved quickly to Scree’s side.

“We’ve got problems, Scree.”

The first time she hit a hurgon she realized she didn’t have a chance. She’d hit some average human men in her time and knew she’d hurt them. Hitting the aliens was like hitting a brick wall. It was like hitting Scree. They hardly noticed at all.

One on one would have been an interesting fight. She couldn’t hurt them, and they couldn’t lay a hand on her. Unfortunately, she didn’t have those odds.

It took the aliens about ten seconds to realize who the real danger was, and another thirty seconds to overwhelm him. Kim watched nine aliens rush forward as one, not worried for their own health. They piled on top of Scree, pounding and kicking. Kim was facing three of her own and didn’t bother fighting. She was exhausted.

She dodged until the referee cleared the ruck.

The hurgon backed carefully away, revealing Scree lying bloody and bruised on the floor. Kim gasped and in that moment was hit. She would’ve gone quietly if they’d asked.

#

Kim didn’t open her eyes. She was sure it would hurt if she did. She laid perfectly still, cheek pressed against cold stone, and took stock of her woe. Maybe her right foot was broken—it was swollen and painful. Her left knee wasn’t much better—it felt like someone had stomped on it. Left hand, broken. She could hardly move her right shoulder. And an eye swollen so much that it wasn’t going to open even when she got around to making the attempt.

Well, she thought, at least I know I’m all here. She finally opened her one good eye and looked at her surroundings. It was a cell, and not nearly as nice as the last. She could see some disgustingly dirty stone floor and a barred doorway. That was all. But she was willing to admit she was not in the best position to see much at all. With a deep breath she carefully sat up.

“Shit, that hurts.” She added two broken ribs to her list of injuries. And a bleeding nose—which probably accounted for why there was no horrid smell. She wiped blood away as she took another look around. There wasn’t a lot more to see. Disgustingly dirty stone floor. A barred door. Disgustingly dirty stone walls. And Scree lying on his back in a corner. He wasn’t moving at all.

Kim wanted to rush over and see how he was, to see if he was breathing, but knew enough to give the matter some thought first. She could crawl across there, using her injured hand and knee. Or she could walk across on her injured foot. Either way her ribs were going to have their say. Eventually she crawled, simply because she didn’t know if she had the energy to get to her feet. Her hand didn’t hurt too bad, but her foot and knee screamed with pain at the slightest pressure. Her ribs just hurt all the time. And she’d forgotten about her shoulder. She held her arm to her body and crawled one handed, biting her lip and trying to think happy thoughts. She had trouble coming up with anything.

She was crying by the time she’d gone the two meters to Scree’s side. His battered face didn’t make her feel any better. She checked his breathing. It was shallow but constant. She touched at his cheek, wiping at a smudge of grease left by a hurgon. She checked him for obvious injuries, running her good hand over his body. Cuts and abrasions. A lump on the back of his head. No broken bones, though it was a bit hard to tell through the slabs of muscle. With a sigh of relief she gingerly leaned back against the wall by his side. Broken hand on her lap, the other on Scree’s chest. The slow rise and fall told her there was still a chance. While the troll lived, there was always a chance.

#

Kim had no idea how long she sat, leaning against the wall. It seemed like hours. Nobody came to look in on them. Nobody even randomly walked past the door. The stone was hard and cold. The smell of damp and long-gone creatures seemed to grow. Her aches and pains subsided if she sat still, but as soon as she moved... So she tried not to move. Hand on Scree’s chest, back against the wall.

It had been so quiet for so long that when Scree groaned and shifted slightly, Kim jumped. Pain lanced through her chest but she ignored it and concentrated on the troll.

“Lie still,” she said softly.

He opened his eyes and stared at her. He stared for so long that she wondered if the lump on the back of his head was merely the external sign of internal damage.

“Can you hear me?” Kim asked, tears welling in her eyes.

Scree grunted. “Course I can hears you. I was just going to enjoy seeings you for a while though.”

She slapped his shoulder and immediately regretted it. Her shoulder screamed at the treatment and the tears in her eyes found new purpose.

“You’s hurt?”

Kim nodded. “A bit.”

“Serious?”

Kim was going to shrug, but that probably would have hurt too much. “I don’t know. I hurt is all I know.”

“Wheres?”

“Shoulder, ribs, hand, knee, foot. And a splitting headache. I feel like I’ve been tumble dried.”

Scree carefully sat up and started with her foot. He undid the fastener down the outside of the boot, holding her leg with surprising tenderness. All the tenderness in the world wouldn’t have helped when it actually came to pulling the boot free. Kim bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. She gripped his wrist with her good hand. Scree winced as if he was the one hurting.

Kim examined her foot as Scree carefully manipulated it. There was swelling and bruising down near the toes. The troll poked and prodded.

“Brokens,” was the verdict. “Not too bad though. Should heal as long as you stay off it for a while.”

“Doubt I’ll have much say in that.”

Scree grunted and shook his head as he moved onto Kim’s knee. He tried sliding her trouser leg up, but it was too tight to go beyond her calf. He looked at Kim, smiling slightly, as if considering the other option, but contented himself with leaving everything where it was and using his big strong fingers to examine from the outside. Kim watched his hands as he worked and wondered what sort of massage he could give.

“Nothing serious,” he said. “Thinks you just jarred it. Will hurt like three angry cats in a sack for a while.”

Ribs next. He knelt by Kim’s side pushed her shirt up to examine the bruising. Kim hadn’t seen it herself but from the look on the troll’s face it wasn’t pretty. He ran his fingers along the tender flesh just below her bra. She almost cried out when he pushed too hard. She tasted blood as she bit her lip.

“Not good,” he said, “but what can ya do abouts broken ribs?” He shrugged then. “Maybe Thorpe could do something.”

Scree continued with his examination, sliding one hand up to her shoulder. He stared into her one good eye the entire time and Kim wondered if he could feel the beating of her heart. He could probably hear it.

He was still looking at her face. “Dislocated shoulder,” he said.

He put it back in with a quick, savage movement. This time Kim did scream. She swore at him and gasped for air all at once. She hurt her broken hand by grabbing at his arm. She swore at the world in general.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Scree massaged at her shoulder but it wasn’t quite the experience Kim had been thinking of.

She shook her head. It was the only coherent response she could make. Her chest ached from her ragged breathing.

One last injury to check. While Kim tried to gain control of her heart and lungs, Scree took up her left hand. He held it in both of his, prodding at the swelling over the fourth metacarpal, working his fingers against her palm.

“Clean break. Ends are lined up pretty good. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kim finally heard movement outside the cell. A hurgon, in the yellow uniform and red cross of the T’loop family, came into view. With Scree kneeling there in front of her, her left hand in his, Kim wouldn’t have been surprised if her mother had turned up. She would have seen the tableau in the cell and jumped to all the wrong conclusions. She would have been planning the wedding before Kim could explain what was really going on.

The hurgon didn’t look as happy as her mother might. It looked over its shoulder and beckoned to some companions, then started to open the door.

27: The Garden Option

Meledrin stayed where she was while Palsamon watered the stake marking the position of the seed. Though it had ‘rained’ in the garden for a good while earlier, the soil still accepted the water greedily. Grass was already starting to grow.

When Palsamon moved on, Meledrin climbed to her feet and looked around. This side of the garden, the eastern side, was going to be thick with vegetation, all carefully designed to appear natural. A lawn would dominate the other side with shade trees around the edge, as if shade was needed. Meledrin had a feeling the trolls would be down here playing their ‘games’ but that could not be helped. The small section of garden that overlooked the rest from the top of the cliff was going to offer strategic vantage points from which to see everything else.

“Do you like the design, Meledrin?” Lisarea asked. She and Hoodek were also watering.

Meledrin examined the layout as if she did not know exactly the name and position of every plant. She nodded. “Yes, Lisarea, I think we have done well with the limited resources.” Though of course the elves could only rely on the human’s descriptions of the plants the Americans had supplied at Nexis. “What do you think, Hoodek?”

The dwarf had worked as vigorously as anyone. He shrugged and looked around. “How would I know? It just looks like dirt to me at the moment.”

“That is one of the many beauties of a garden—it is ever changing. Come down here in a week and it will be a different place. Even when completed, it will change from moment to moment.”

Hoodek nodded but seemed unsure if constant change was a good thing.

“It will be wonderful to have a garden once again,” Lisarea said into the silence.

“Yes.” Meledrin felt that she had never agreed with anyone more wholeheartedly. The world outside the ship was harsh and dull. There was no hint of color, except in the clothes of the ever-milling hurgon and the hurgon themselves, and they represented bad things more than good.

The ship’s PA system beeped, and everyone looked up expectantly. For a couple of seconds there was no other sound.

“Ah, Meledrin?” Bethalin’s distorted voice said eventually. There was another pause, then the voice came again, clearer. “Meledrin could you come to the bridge please.”

Meledrin dusted off her hands looked around as if there might be some last minute, vital order that needed to be given, then walked calmly towards the lift.

On the bridge, Bethalin, a young woman whose once-long hair had been cut and styled by one of the dwives, was manipulating the image in the dome.

“Yes, Bethalin,” Meledrin said, starting up the stairs to the communications console.

“They are doing something. They may be preparing to attack.”

Meledrin raised her eyebrow and the other woman blushed.

Bethalin nodded. “Cliff informed me.”

“Ahhh... Very well then. And where has Cliff gone?” Meledrin would not have been confident of Bethalin’s ability to predict an attack—it was not something she would feel confident of doing herself—but if one of the trolls had said so it was probably true.

“He went to the security office to speak with the other troop leaders.”

Meledrin watched the movement in the dome, trying to work out what had given away the purpose behind the hurgon movements. They had been shifting position and marching around in the square for hours and, as far as Meledrin could tell, their present activities were simply more of the same.

“I shall go down and see what they have to say.”

“Very well.” Bethalin nodded. “And, Meledrin?”

“Yes?”

“I spoke with Flint a little while ago.”

“Flint?” That did not sound good.

“Yes. Kim and Scree have been separated from the rest of the group. Flint has not heard from Scree either.”

“It means nothing. Perhaps...” But Meledrin could not think of a single way in which Scree’s silence might be a good thing. He would not turn his radio off, and he could not lose it. He could talk to the other trolls and carry on in the real world as if all was normal. “Maybe he is sleeping,” she finished lamely. Scree woke up at the slightest noise. “I am going to the security office.”

The office was filled with large people and seemed much smaller than it actually was. Ping and Topper were present as well, standing at the corner of the desk, struggling to hold their place against mass and numbers. Even Tuki was there, as if, because of his previous efforts, he was now a trusted adviser of the military men on board. He was a simple lad, not prone to speaking unless he was asked a direct question, but Meledrin sensed a difference in him. He was sitting up straighter than usual. He did not stare at his hands. Where before he has been focused inwards, now he was letting himself out.

They all fell silent when she entered the room.

“Meledrin.”

“Captain Thorpe. What is happening outside?”

It was Stone who answered. “It looks like they’re preparing for an assault. They’ve isolated one of their machines but moved their forces so they can support it or quickly access the ship near where it faces us.”

“What sort of machine?”

Stone shrugged and pointed to Ping and Topper. They were squeezed between Cliff and Chasm. “Tuki suggested we bring in the experts, but they aren’t telling us much at the moment either.”

Tuki had suggested they ask the dwarves? It was not something Meledrin would have thought of herself. Though she had been working with Hoodek and seen how valuable his assistance could be, asking for the help of the dwarves still wasn’t an idea that came naturally to her.

Meledrin hated that Palsamon had been proven right after all. When they had spoken for the first time after their argument, the two of them had carried on as if nothing had happened. Palsamon slept in her room and they made love and talked as they had twenty years ago. But all the while Meledrin had been thinking on what he had said. She had tried to change her attitude towards the other elves. All three women—Penisari, Lisarea and Bethalin—were speaking to her much more than they had in the past and were contributing strongly to the community.

But that had only been part of Palsamon’s message, Meledrin thought, telling me I was closed off from those around me. The other part had been that she judged all people—elves and dwarves and men and all others—by standards that no longer mattered. On Sherindel, the dwarves had not been able to add anything to her life in the small village of Grovely, but that did not mean they might not be useful away from the village, or that the village was the perfect world.

Hoodek had assisted in the garden but she still thought of him as nothing more than a dwarf. He was a dwarf that she had allowed to assist them. He was not somebody who could contribute in his own right—as more than strong hands and back for digging.

Meledrin had often wondered why humans had been chosen to lead the hakans into space, but suddenly she knew. Humans had a little bit of all the other races in them—it meant they had a chance of seeing things from all the angles and could therefore come to a more informed opinion.

With a small shrug, Meledrin tried to move out of herself. She waved her fingers in a quick, perfunctory ceremony of Beginning—it felt like a lifetime since the last ceremony—and tried to think of the activities outside the ship from a different point of view.

“Is the machine outside a weapon or a tool?” she asked after a moment.

“There’s a difference?” Cliff asked.

Meledrin nodded, though she realized the difference she had seen in her mind might not be immediately obvious. “I mean, is it going to explode or cut?”

Tuki hit some buttons and a picture of the machine was brought up onto the wall opposite the desk, right beside the door. Topper left his spot beside the table to go and have a closer look.

“This looks like it might be a coil for generating heat,” Topper said, pointing to a part of the machine that looked basically the same as every other part to Meledrin. Topper continued. “But we can’t be sure of course. The fact that the hurgon seem to have been in a steam age for millennia suggests the machine will cause explosions though. Using heat for cutting requires sustainable technology... I mean technology that can work continuously for long periods of time... which is very hard to do.”

“What difference would either choice make to our plans?” Tuki asked.

Topper shrugged, but all of Meledrin’s attention was on Tuki.

After a moment Ping spoke. “The hull is about a meter thick and designed to withstand entry into atmosphere,” she said. “Surely that’s more heat than they can generate.”

“So we don’t worry about cutting?” Tuki seemed to notice Meledrin watching him and looked at his hands for a moment, but he was not done. “So explosions?”

Ping and Topper both shrugged.

“From the outside,” Ping said eventually, “most of the hull looks the same, but there are weak points—a dozen maintenance access panels and the doors.”

“Can’t we just shoot them?” Cliff asked. “We could clear the square in a couple of minutes, I reckon.”

Meledrin shook her head. “That is not an option as long as we have people off the ship—and I have no doubt the hurgon are counting on that. The may be able to afford the losses, sending individuals against us until our batteries run out, but we have no such luxuries.

“Then we just shoot the machine and make it blow up or melt it down to slag—whichever comes first.”

Topper shook his head. “What if it explodes? Could wipe out half the square anyway, plus a few buildings. And it might be that explosion that ruptures our hull—the machine isn’t very far away at all.”

Stone was examining the picture on the desk. “Can we disable it another way?”

“From here? No.”

“What about from out there?”

“Without it blowing up?”

Stone grunted in disgust.

Tuki cleared his throat. Last time Meledrin had seen him, the moai would have waited for permission to speak after that, but now he ploughed straight into the question. He still looked slightly nervous about it—his hands scratched reflexively at the tabletop. “You don’t know what the machine does, but do you have any idea how it does it?”

“What?” Topper asked.

“We don’t know what the machine is for, but you seem to know a bit about their technology so...”

“Right. Well, it’s probably steam driven in some way,” Topper said. He pointed to what appeared to be a tank. “Water in here gets heated and turns to steam, the pressure of the steam... does something. Turns a wheel or lifts a piston or... something.”

“So we let out the water?”

Topper shook his head. “That would work short term, but they’d just patch the hole.”

Ping grabbed his hand. “But... they would have to heat the water again, which would take a while. And we could put a hole somewhere else—attack the steam. Without pressure it will do nothing. Just slap a patch on the outside of that and it would soon be blown off.”

“So all we need to do is put some holes in it?” Stone asked.

“It could buy us a couple of hours.”

“Come on guys, let’s see what we’ve got.”

#

Meledrin watched from the bridge. She brought a picture of the machine up in the dome. On her main console screen she showed the freight door on Level 9. Five trolls were lined up with guns and a strange array of makeshift weapons that Meledrin did not entirely trust to work. Talus was standing by the button to open the door and looked ready to do so.

Meledrin quickly reached out and hit the button to turn on the intercom. “Wait.”

Down in the hold the trolls looked up, grumbling and searching for a camera as if it would show what Meledrin was doing.

“I am coming down.”

Meledrin took the lift, stopping at the gardens to collect the other elves and taking them the rest of the way with her.

In the hold, the trolls were standing around, edgy after being stopped on the brink of action.

“What’s going on now?”

“Some recruits,” Meledrin said. “Where are the bows my people brought on at Sherindel?”

Apparently the ones that had not been carried upstairs by the owners had been stowed in a crate. Bethalin, who had worked on the cargo computers earlier, led the way and had Chip open the lock.

“Topper,” Meledrin said, as she took up a bow and collected five arrows. “Which is the most vital part of the machine? Which piece do we most want disabled?”

“Ummm... Do you remember the box on the top?” the dwarf asked.

“The one with the many pipes?”

“Yes.”

“I think that’s about the only thing your bows will work against.”

“Very well. The trolls will do what they were going to do, the archers will follow my marker. If we break through, next in line chooses a likely target,” she glanced at Topper, “even if it will not work.”

The elves nodded and Meledrin nodded back. Soon everyone was lined up in firing positions, ready to go. Talus was by the door again, awaiting the order.

“And Talus...”

“Yeah, Mel?”

“Our survival is the most important thing. If you see the hurgon readying a response, close the door.”

“You got it.”

Meledrin waved her fingers in a ceremony of Action. “When you are ready.”

When the door hissed open it took a moment for Meledrin to get her bearings. Several trolls had fired before she found her target and loosed. Almost before her arrow had shattered against the side of the machine, Palsamon fired as well. And the others. Five arrows smashed against the metal box in little more than two seconds. Meledrin fired again, hitting exactly the same place. At this range, barely fifty meters, the elvish long bow was a deadly, powerful weapon. The machine would not hold. And indeed Bethalin, firing third in the line, sent her third arrow into the interior of the machine. Lisarea had already fired and her arrow entered the same hole, stopping halfway. Penisari, next in line, chose another target in an instant and fired.

Meledrin shifted aim to match.

While the elves fired off a long stream of arrows, the trolls fired slower, heavier weapons. Some of their projectiles broke through on their own, others bounced harmlessly away. Barely thirty seconds after the start of the attack, Meledrin counted half a dozen holes.

Meledrin was about to fire her final arrow when she saw the hurgon, slow as ever, finally reacting. Orders were being shouted, weapons rose.

Talus hit the button and the door closed with a sigh.

Meledrin, smiling and taking a deep breath, danced her fingers. Ending. She felt no different after it was done and wondered why she had even bothered.

“Let us see what effect we have had.” She handed her bow to Bethalin to put away and made her way to the lift. Then, she thought she might return to the garden.

28: A Bigger Room

Keeble quickly grew bored watching the driver. It wasn’t as if he did much at all. The scenery wasn’t all that exciting either—just more of the same buildings and empty lots.

So the train rushed on, adding to the density of the air, and Keeble just wanted to get there. Bargle seemed to have all sorts of questions for the driver and its two shoveling companions. He was fascinated by every little thing they did. At first they’d been reluctant to talk but as the journey stretched on, as they went thundering through more and more stations, as the hurgon realized they were probably safe, they started to talk.

Keeble reigned in his wandering thoughts to look at the driver. It was doing something. “What’s happening?”

Tamidilin held a quick conversation with the driver. “Leeda says we are coming upon the P’targa family station.”

“We are?” Keeble looked out the front window as the train started to slow.

Several minutes later they plunged into a building. The sound echoed enormously. Smoke gathered in the cabin. Keeble coughed and waved it away. The train continued to slow. And finally it stopped.

The station was the same as the last few had been. Small and brightly lit, with a platform on each side of the track. And also like the last few, a huge crowd had gathered to witness the excitement of the hijacked train flying through the station. When that didn’t happen the crowds edged back. They looked to their companions, as if they might have an explanation for the strange turn of events. Guards stepped forward on both sides of the track.

“Which way?” Keeble asked.

“Tiv says the P’targa are that way.” Tami gestured.

The crowd was larger on that side.

There were more guards, some armored, some not. Their uniforms were pale green with horizontal yellow stripes on the front. They all raised their weapons but didn’t seem sure what to do after that.

“We doing this?” Sandy asked.

Keeble nodded slowly, as unsure as those outside. But the trolls had no room for doubt. They both stepped out onto the platform and stood near the door. After a few seconds they both took a step forward. The crowd edged away from them. They took another step and enlarged the beachhead. When they’d created a clear space around the door, with the guards watching silently, Keeble stepped out.

The quiet was eerie. Keeble quickly became the focus of attention—the colored eyes watched him suspiciously. He looked back at the train and in the carriages hurgon were pressed against the windows trying to see.

Just when Keeble’s feeling of ridiculousness was starting to overtake his fear, Tami stepped to his side.

“What do you wish to say?”

“Errr... just hello and stuff, I suppose.”

The elf took liberties with the translation. Arms waving, she talked back and forth with the leader of the guards for some time.

“Jisa greets us tentatively and wishes to know what we are doing.”

“Well, tell Jisa we’ve come to talk to the Grandmother about an alliance between the P’targa Family and the Hakahei worlds.”

That exchange took even longer and brought a lot of silent, arm-waving conversation from the onlookers. When they were done, Tami and Jisa stood staring at each other as if waiting for something to happen.

“Well?”

“Jisa said that the Grandmother is not presently in the compound and the Mother may not wish to speak with us. I replied that Jisa would not know without asking.”

“And?”

“And Jisa is thinking about it.”

Keeble thought he could see the thoughts turning over in the alien’s head. Eventually it waved to one of its companions who raced away as best as the press and its hunched form would allow.

It was nearly half an hour before a response came—Keeble was starting to think it would never happen. Nina and Bargle were sitting on the train’s step, chatting quietly, Tasko was Singing under his breath and using his boot to draw patterns on one of the slabs that tiled the floor. The trolls, elves and hurgon were standing silently, as if they were willing to wait all day.

When another troop of guards entered the station, barging their way through the crowd, it was a surprise to everyone.

Jisa spoke with the leader of the newcomers then turned to Tami and spoke in a loud voice for all the crowd to hear. The elf translated a couple of words behind.

“Jisa informs us that we are to be taken into custody.”

Keeble swore. “Can’t they see the advantages?”

“We can get back on the train,” Flint said.

But they couldn’t really and the troll knew it. The P’targa guards could shoot them before they got that far.

“What happens if we don’t agree to this?”

Tami asked. “Apparently we will be killed.”

“Tough choice,” Keeble said bitterly. He sighed. They’d come so far. They were so close. “Come on then. We’ll just have to escape later and find someone else to ask.” Finding someone else would be the problem. He motioned his companions forward and the P’targa guards fell into step around them, guiding them towards the door. The train started to move off before they were off the platform.

#

Keeble looked around the room. It wasn’t an official, overwhelming place like where they’d met the T’loop grandparents, but neither was it a cell.

An ancient hurgon, with pale brown skin and one drooping shoulder, entered the room. It tottered in with the help of a walking cane and surrounded by four guards. It looked at them with purple eyes but did not speak.

Suldon quickly composed himself and stepped out of the group and started to talk. Keeble watched the animated conversation and waited as patiently as he was able. He fidgeted and muttered to himself and tugged at his beard.

Eventually, Suldon turned to look at Keeble. “Mother Hupo apologizes for the charade, but it needed to be done in case there were spies present.”

“What?” Keeble asked.

“It will not matter soon, but for now every little bit of extra time could be important.”

“What?”

“We are not under arrest, Keeble. The Mother wishes to talk of an alliance.”

“Oh.” Keeble looked over his shoulder at his companions. “Very well. Ummm... Now what?”

“Now we talk, I would assume.”

“Right. Of course.”

Mother Hupo took up a position on a seating T, the guards stood close by.

“Tell her the story, Suldon.”

“Which story?”

“About us not knowing about the war and them coming out of nowhere and attacking us. And tell her we don’t want the war.”

Apparently it was a long story. Keeble stood impatiently through the whole thing, winding the gears on his hand in and out. In and out. He watched the Mother, trying unsuccessfully to gauge her reactions—he still couldn’t interpret hurgon body language. Even if he could, he couldn’t understand what was being said to know what it was reacting to.

“The Mother wants to know what proof we have to back up our words.”

“Proof? Well, we haven’t attacked them in 500 of their cycles or whatever it is. And we’re here.”

That was quicker to translate.

“Are we official representatives of all the Hakahei worlds?”

“Umm...” Were they? Keeble wasn’t exactly sure. And if the Hakahei was on ‘official’ business, did he have any right to do the talking? This should have been Kim’s job. “Yes,” he said eventually, simply because ‘No’ wouldn’t be any help at all.

“What can we offer in terms of contracts?”

Keeble sighed but remembered how the last such conversation had progressed. “All we can offer at this stage is a verbal agreement to favor the P’targa family in all our dealings after the war is over.”

“Mother Hupo will not like that.”

“Well, Hupo doesn’t have a choice. We still won’t sign any contracts without being able to read what they say. Can you read their writing yet?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go.”

Suldon nodded unhappily, but translated what had been said. At least Keeble assumed he did. He wondered if the elf was really reciting love poems or trying to get the old hurgon to play chess.

“The Mother says such an agreement cannot be made.”

“Why not? Did you explain the reasons? Ask if the P’targa family would sign a contract they’d not read.”

“The P’targa would not but hakans cannot be trusted.”

“The T’loop family entered into a verbal agreement with us,” Keeble said through clenched teeth, “and then broke it within half an hour. Ask the Mother who it is that can’t be trusted.”

Keeble really wished he could recognize hurgon emotions. He watched the Mother’s face as Suldon translated.

“It does not believe you,” the elf said eventually.

“Of course not,” Keeble muttered. He wondered what he was supposed to do. They couldn’t offer anything more than a verbal agreement, but that wouldn’t do. “How about we hold the Mother hostage until the P’targa family agrees to help us.” He heard Flint and Sandy shifting their weight as if ready for the order, though they must have known he was joking. “Don’t translate that, Suldon.”

“I was not intending to.”

“Good.” But he didn’t know what other options they had.

A knock at the door saved him from having to come up with something immediately. One of the guards answered and held a whispered conversation with someone outside. A moment later another old hurgon was ushered into the room.

Mother Hupo greeted the newcomer formally.

“Is that the Grandmother?” Keeble whispered.

Suldon shook his head. “It is Father Geena from the Di’linga family.”

“Who are they?”

“I do not know? But it seems they are not friends of the P’targa. They are arguing.”

“About what?”

“Hupo says that the Di’linga have never had anything to do with the business of the P’targa and that they never will. And Father Geena says the Di’linga don’t want to be a part of the paltry deals organized by the P’targa, but that the safe return of the aliens—that is us—to the T’loop is a matter that concerns all hurgon.” The conversation between the hurgon continued and Suldon cocked his head to listen. “The Mother says perhaps she was not going to return us to the T’loop because they obviously could not keep us locked safely away.”

Keeble grunted. “I’d like to see them do better.”

But the conversation had come to an end and the two hurgon were eying each other warily.

“What happened?”

“I believe they have reached an impasse. That is, both refuse to listen to the other.”

“Ahhh...”

It seemed the hurgon would stand there all day, staring at each other, when there was another knock at the door. Keeble glanced at Suldon. The guards glanced at the Mother.

The process from earlier was repeated—the guard spoke with someone outside then ushered a hurgon into the room. This one was quite a bit younger than Hupo or Geena

“We’ll need a bigger room soon,” Bargle said.

“That is Father Kita,” Suldon said softly as the greetings were made. “He is from the I’patin Family.”

“Really. That’s good to know.” The conversation between the Mother and the new father seemed to be heading along the same path as the earlier one. “Suldon, tell the two fathers we’re trying to make a deal with the P’targa that will make them rich and end the war. Tell them that the P’targa are not keen on this because all we can offer at the moment is a verbal agreement, but if they’re interested...”

When Suldon started to speak the argument broke off as if a talking dog had surprised the newcomers. All three of the hurgon turned to look. When the elf was finished, a fresh argument broke out.

“Now they are arguing about what would happen if the T’loop family finds out what is happening. The Di’linga and I’patin had not thought of making a deal themselves. They wanted to get in good with the T’loop by returning us. They have found common ground and say that if the P’targa do not take us back then it could mean dire consequences.”

Keeble sighed. “Ask them...” he said. But no, that wouldn’t work. “What if...” He wound the gears on his hand and looked around at his companions as if they might help. Between them—dwarves, elves and trolls—surely they could come up with one idea that would work...

Keeble smiled—it was obvious. Dwarves, elves and trolls. “Ask them what they would prefer, a contact with the T’loop family, in which they would make money but lose a lot of other things, or an alliance of equals among minor families. The different strengths of their individual families could be used together to the advantage of all three families. It would be an alliance that promises them great advantages in their dealings with the Hakahei worlds after the war is over.”

Suldon started to translate and the hurgon all fell silent again. “They do not understand,” the elf said eventually.

“What bit?”

“The alliance among minor families.”

“What?”

“I do not think they understand the idea of a business contract that has no immediate, obvious benefit. As far as they are concerned, what is the point of a contract that does not tell them how much money they are going to make?”

“Well, tell them that they’d just sign a contract that makes them into one large family with three Grandmothers in charge, each with an equal say. They could still run their own family businesses as usual, but just not in any way that detrimentally affects the other families. And they would also try to help the other families in terms of minor contracts because in doing so they would help themselves.”

The translation followed. “They are intrigued by the idea, but wonder if three minor families will be enough to withstand the backlash from the major families.”

There was a knock at the door.

29: A Good Guy

Scree knew they were back where they’d started—the heart T’loop compound. He shook his head in disgust and let the guards herd him off the train. There were ten of them and they all had weapons. He probably could’ve escaped himself but Kim didn’t have a chance.

They went between the squat columns then along the corridor to the lift. The lift shuddered and rumbled upwards and Scree wondered if they were going to go straight to the cell or back to the throne room first.

Neither, apparently. They were taken to a different floor where a narrow hall led between lichen-covered walls. There were no gas lamps, just torches, and they guttered fitfully. The sound of animal misery was everywhere. Scree took a quick look in the first door. The door was mainly wood, but through a small barred window he could see a hurgon shackled to the wall. It hung limply and might’ve been dead.

They weren’t taken to a cell. At the very end of the hall, behind two large, iron-studded doors, was something far worse.

“Burnt cats.”

The torture equipment had been made for hurgon but it was surprisingly similar to what hakans would’ve used. Sharp things everywhere with teeth and hooks and clamps. There was a stone table in the center of the room where the victim could be chained. Coals glowed dully in a small furnace in the corner. There were a dozen irons on the wall nearby.

“I think I like our last couple of cells better,” Kim said quietly.

“I don’t know,” Scree replied. “At least there’s something to look at here.” It wasn’t funny at all really. He didn’t know why he’d said it. He didn’t think Kim would be comforted if she thought about the things the hurgon might make her look at.

“Oh, yeah. Once they start I’m sure I’ll be hooked.”

Scree could hardly hear her. The worst bit was, Scree knew they’d start on Kim first. She was weaker, the one most likely to break, but Scree didn’t know how long he’d be able to watch that.

Two hurgon held Kim with a weapon pointed at her back. She struggled for a moment, but soon gave up, which wasn’t normal. Scree thought dying quickly may be better than the other options, especially for Kim, but did as he was told when another four motioned him towards some shackles fixed to the wall. They chained him there, hands and feet, and tested the locks. Scree tested them too but gave it up as useless. Kim was chained up as well and the hurgon filed out. The door slammed shut.

“Do we know where Flint is?” Kim said quietly. There was a quaver in her voice even then. “And the others?”

“No. Can’t hear them.” He was going to keep trying. They were the only hope of rescue.

“The ship?”

“They’s talking.” He shrugged. “What would I says? They don’t know wheres we are or anything. Even on a train it would take thems a long time to get here.”

“They have the Landers. And fighters.”

“The hurgon know that too. I’m sure they gots it covered.” Scree had considered all that already. Flint was their only hope.

“They would try.”

Scree was sure they would. He knew he would. Nobody stays behind, he thought, examining Kim’s face. She was about to cry. Her eyes were wide with fear.

The chain on Scree’s wrist was thick and strong but he wrapped it around his hand anyway and pulled. He quivered with the effort. Veins stood out on his arm. Nothing. Not even a hint of weakness anywhere along the chain. He tried again. Then the other arm.

“What’s that?” Kim asked.

Scree turned to see where she was looking. It was a circle of metal with a dozen little adjustable clamps and hooks facing inwards. It was used to peel flesh away from limbs in one piece.

“It’s for making stockings,” Scree said. “You wrap the wool around those little clamps, then you kinda wrap the next bit of wool around the first bits. Or something like that.” He had seen a similar thing being done, but the equipment was different.

“Right,” Kim said, nodding. “I think we call that French knitting.”

Scree looked at her. She didn’t believe him—the mention of making socks might have given away the contraption’s real purpose—but she played along with the game.

“And that?”

It was a small cage with a hole in the bottom and blades facing inwards. It went over people’s heads, cutting them whenever they moved.

“That,” Scree said, “is for making patterns on the outside of watermelons for the Mid-summer Festival. You knows, you cut pictures on the skin so they looks good before you eats them.”

“Really? Well, I’ll be.” She gave a slight smile. “I didn’t know the hurgon had watermelons.”

Scree shrugged. “I’m sure watermelons is a staple of every diet in the universe. How coulds any people live without watermelons?”

“And that thing?” She used her chin to point to a clamp that worked in reverse, the arms forcing apart instead of together. It was for separating ribs, probably, or whatever the hurgon had that was similar.

“That’s for opening coconuts,” Scree told her. “You use that drill there to put a hole in them, then...” But they’d carried the joke on too long. It wasn’t funny any more, if it ever had been. Scree lapsed into silence and tried not to look any more.

#

“Scree?”

“Yeah.” He’d been sleeping. It was obvious Kim hadn’t. Her hair was everywhere, her eyes dark with exhaustion.

“You’re a good guy, you know that?”

“No I ain’t, Kim. Got a lot of things to make up for before that’s true. I used to—”

“No. It doesn’t matter what you used to do. None of the people on the ship, none of your friends, knew you before. What you did before doesn’t matter.”

“Ping knew me.”

“Ping likes you though.”

Scree didn’t know if that was true. The little woman didn’t go around saying she hated him, but there was something in her eyes. And who could blame her? The strangest thing was, he’d only had sex once since he tried to rape her—with Crystal near Danyon Ford—but felt no desperation at all. Well, there was a desperation, but of another kind.

He wanted Kim to accept him. He wanted all the people on the ship to accept him. His friends? He’d never had friends before. He grunted. That was all Ping’s fault. Friends weren’t worth the effort.

“You are a good man, Scree.” Kim started crying. From the look on her face it wasn’t the first time she’d done it recently.

Scree tried to pull the chains from the wall. He yanked and pulled and strained. He grunted and groaned with the effort. He cut his wrists on the manacles. He worked for almost a minute before stopping. He was breathing heavily and he thought that he’d cry too.

All Ping’s fault. He cursed.

#

Two hurgon came in. They were wearing long green robes instead of the usual baggy pants and shirts. The guards looked around then pulled the door closed from the outside.

The hurgon didn’t talk. One of them stoked up the furnace, the other arranged stuff neatly on a bench along the back wall.

Scree had imagined all sorts of things during the last hours. It had always involved Kim spread out on the table while he stayed chained to the wall. He didn’t know if anything they actually did to him could be any worse.

As if to test the point, the alien by the furnace pulled the poker out and examined the tip. It was glowing hot. He moved to stand in front of Scree.

Scree stared at him. What else could he do?

When the hot iron was pressed against his shoulder he gritted his teeth against the pain and continued to stare. Beneath the hood, the hurgon’s big, colored eyes widened. The alien stepped back and Scree smiled. He spat on the alien’s face. A small victory, though would mean even less in a while.

Scree looked at Kim.

“I won’t tell them anything, Scree,” she said, staring at the burn on his shoulder.

Scree didn’t know if she was joking. She could shout every secret she’d ever had at the top of her voice and it would make no difference—the hurgon couldn’t understand her anyway.

The torture of waiting continued. Scree’s tormentor went back to fiddling with the iron poker in the fire, twisting it and turning it as he examined the glowing tip. The other hurgon clanked and clatter at the rear of the room. Finally, when Scree thought maybe they were just cleaning up and weren’t going to do anything more, they both walked to the center table as if on some unheard, unseen signal. They stared at their captives and Scree stared back.

It was all a foregone conclusion though. The hurgon crossed the room, slowly, and started to unchain Kim. Scree fought against his own bonds again. Straining and thrashing alternately, as if a sudden change of tactics might surprise the manacles and chains. He growled at the aliens. He would’ve bitten them if only he could have bent forward far enough.

Kim went without protest.

“Fight them, Kim,” Scree urged her. “Kick them. Bite them.” Scree knew it wouldn’t do her any good. The hurgon weren’t very good at fighting but they were strong and tough anyway. The torturers each had a good grip on one of Kim’s wrists and she wouldn’t be able to break free. But she didn’t even try. That made Scree fight all the harder.

When Kim was lying on the table and the manacles had snapped into place around her wrists and ankles, the hurgon tore away her outer clothes. They left her lying there in her underwear as they went to play with their tools again, fiddling, picking them up and putting them down. But in the end they went with the hot poker again and it was a bit of an anti-climax.

Scree couldn’t fight any more. He watched quietly as one of the hurgon held the tool close to Kim’s face. But that was too much too soon. After a moment, it pressed the glowing metal against the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

It was obvious Kim wanted to grit her teeth and stare. She watched the hurgon coldly, not flinching until the metal touched her. Then she screamed and writhed in pain. The sounded goaded Scree into another few seconds of furious struggle.

The hurgon stepped away and went back to the furnace without saying anything.

Scree stared at the blistering wound on Kim’s leg while she cried and moaned with pain. Her chest heaved. Then Kim was spitting curses at the hurgon for a whole minute. The aliens ignored her and the limits of her resistance showed when the hurgon eventually approached her with the iron again. She fell silent, staring at the tip of the poker. She held herself silent for a moment, during which time the sizzling of her flesh could be heard, but then screamed louder than the first time.

“Try thats on me you stinking, green bastard,” Scree shouted. “Come over here and I’ll shove that poker so far down your throat I’ll cure your haemorrhoids.”

Eventually Scree slumped forward and turned away. When he looked again there was a matching pair of wounds on Kim’s leg, midway between groin and knee. She was crying again, shuddering, rubbing her wrists and ankles raw on the manacles. Scree wondered if her wounds from the fight were causing as much trouble as anything else.

Again, the two hurgon went back to what they were doing without speaking. The played with their toys and bided their time. Finally, one broke off what it was doing and approached Kim with something like a drill. Scree thought he recognized it as a thing used to cut muscle and tendon away from bone leaving hardly any external damage. The hurgon worked the machine as it motioned for its companion to hold Kim’s wrist. Kim watched, eyes wide with horror though she probably didn’t know the end result of the process.

Scree was horrified. He didn’t look at the hurgon. He didn’t look at the drill bit spinning in the end of the drill. He stared at Kim’s eyes. The fear was obvious there, palpable, but so was her defiance, little good it would do her.

“Kim,” Scree said softly, as the hurgon moved the drill towards her wrist. She turned to look at him but there was no recognition in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” He saw her flinch as the drill bit at her flesh. She bit her tongue.

The door to the room creaked open.

The two hurgon looked up, their concentration broken. Scree stared into Kim’s eyes for a moment longer before he turned to look as well. Standing in the door was another robed hurgon.

The newcomer said something, looking between the two prisoners. The reply was short. An animated discussion followed. The three hurgon almost growled at each other, and their arms waved wildly as they also spoke in the kil’ini sign language. They were going to quick for Scree to follow more than a couple of words.

Eventually the two original hurgon turned to face Kim so they could continue working. While they seemed to deliberately ignore the newcomer Scree studied it. The alternative viewing options weren’t nice.

The newcomer went to the back of the room and picked up a knife, testing the blade on its thumb. It put that down and picked up the bladed head-cage weighing it in its hand.

Scree heard Kim gasp and turned to see that the drill had touched her skin again and sent out a small splatter of blood. She was shaking, shuddering.

Scree closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He should have fought earlier. He should have made sure Kim died before things went this far. They weren’t after information—the T’loop family merely wanted revenge for being made to look like fools. He should have...

There was a gasp and a thump.

Scree opened his eyes and saw then the drill wielder collapse. The newcomer was standing close by with the head-cage in its hand. A ribbon of blood clung to the corner. The other hurgon, holding Kim’s wrist, opened its mouth to shout but was thumped before it had a chance. The bars of the cage left a crosshatch of marks across its face. It stayed on his feet for a moment, then tumbled to the floor.

The hurgon with the cage dropped the makeshift weapon—as if unable to believe what had happened—then slowly pushed back its hood.

30: Things She’d Seen

Ping looked up as Meledrin’s voice came over the intercom system. “Captain Thorpe to the bridge, please.”

She looked at Tess, but the dwife just shrugged. Bethalin had called Meledrin to the bridge not five minutes earlier.

“What’s all the excitement, do you think?” Dido asked, taking another card from the deck.

“I’m going to find out,” Ping said, throwing in her hand—which wasn’t any good anyway—and heading for the door. She smiled as she heard Hoodek throw his cards down in disgust—like all dwarves, he wore his heart on his sleeve, only more so, and it was easy to see when he thought he had a good hand.

On the bridge she found that most of the current brains trust had gathered. Meledrin sat in her communications seat. Chasm and Cliff were leaning against the chairs of the gallery. Tuki and Thorpe were standing nearby. Bethalin was at the base of the stairs, as if she had not known where to go after being booted from the communications chair by Meledrin. Topper and Palsamon were on duty.

“Scree will be returning soon,” Meledrin said. “Kim is in his company, apparently, but she is injured. Scree requests that you be ready to treat her, Captain Thorpe, and that the rest of us are ready to help him get her inside.”

Ping gasped. If Scree was calling ahead to warn then Kim’s injuries must be serious.

Thorpe nodded in his economical way. “I’ll prepare. Does anyone know where Amy and Paul are?”

“Chasm’ll get them to go to the medical bay,” Chasm said, probably already asking the trolls to find the two humans in question.

“How is he getting here?” Ping asked. She wondered how many hurgon would have to die if he wanted to get through the square on foot.

Meledrin cleared her throat. “He is riding a small kidol. They should not be far away.”

Ping went to the forward view port to look. She scanned the sky, but could see nothing. Unless... “Spin the bridge,” she said, twirling her finger in the air.

“Pardon.”

“Look out that way.” The black dot was getting closer very quickly. Ping looked over her shoulder, but Meledrin didn’t know how to spin the bridge.

“Three riders on the back,” Cliff said, squinting. “Two more bats coming up behind. Stone knows,” he said, nodding in satisfaction.

Ping could imagine the four weapons chairs on the floor below all shifting to face the oncoming bats.

Ping stared out the window, wondering exactly what had happened to Kim. The kidol came on like small, intense storm clouds, looming larger. Eventually, she turned and hurried from the bridge.

#

Ping’s cabin seemed suddenly too small. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in her lap. There was a knock at the door but she didn’t reply. She held her breath, as if that might help keep her hidden.

The silence that followed stretched on and on. Ten seconds. Twenty. Ping swallowed, took a breath, examined her hands.

The knock came again.

“Go away.”

“Ping, it’s Topper. I—”

“Go away.”

“Scree and Kim are back. Kim’s hurt pretty bad. She’s got broken ribs and... other stuff. Scree did something to her shoulder, but I don’t know what, exactly.”

There were any number of things Scree could have done to her shoulder. Those around him seemed to get hurt all the time, and more often than not, he was the cause. Who could stop the troll if he really wanted to do something? She started to cry, not caring who heard.

Topper was the only one who could hear though, and he did. “Ping? Are you all right?”

“Go away.”

But he didn’t. “Ping?”

Ping looked up, ready to tell him to go away again, when the door slid open. Topper stood there, looking as if the last thing he wanted to do was step inside the room.

“Topper, I really...”

The dwarf stepped into the room. He stood just inside the door, shuffling his feet and examining the spanner in his hand.

“Why are you crying? Can I help?”

Ping almost laughed. Typical dwarf. There was a problem but he had a spanner—surely it could be fixed. Instead, she sniffed and wiped at her face.

“I’m fine, Topper. Just relieved that Scree and Kim are back home.”

Home? Ping wanted to stand in the center of Shadon, in the park surrounding the Great Clock. She wanted to hear the midsummer chime and look up at the dozen towers on the hills around her, like a crown on the city. But the Great Clock was no more. Possibly Shadon was no more. And it certainly wasn’t home, not after the places she’d been and the things she’d seen.

She sighed. She would have been dead, like so many of her countrymen, if it hadn’t been for Scree. She hated the troll. She lay awake at night, remembering the look in his eyes as he tried to get into her armor. But that was a lifetime ago. On the ship he obeyed Kim and kept the peace. And that just made everything worse because she didn’t know when the other Scree would return. If Kim was injured...

Topper cleared his throat but didn’t question the poor excuse. “Keeble is coming back as well,” he said.

“He is?” Ping smiled. It was strange how she was more comfortable with Keeble than with others. At least with him she knew what he was feeling. He didn’t like women. He didn’t try to pretend. He didn’t try to make you like him by being nice. He didn’t want to talk to women but he did when he needed to. There was no confusion at all.

There was a commotion outside the cabin as dwarves rushed past, heading for the stairs.

Ping wiped her eyes again and rose to her feet. “We’d better get going then,” she said.

Topper opened his mouth to say something, then changed him mind and nodded. Ping, straightening her clothes.

On Level 3, almost everyone gathered on one side of the ship, staring out through the window.

“We might be able to get out of here,” Kafin said to Hoodek.

Ping interrupted. “He found some rebels?”

Kafin nodded. “Apparently. Certainly some of the hurgon aren’t too happy with him. It could get nasty around here soon.”

“And who’s supposed to be on engineering duty?”

“That would be Drago.”

Ping looked around and found the dwarf trying to peer over Ari’s shoulder to see outside. “Drago, what are you doing?”

“Trying to see.”

“Are you supposed to be in engineering?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. We need somebody down there to monitor the systems.”

“So why don’t you go down there and monitor them yourself?”

Ping wasn’t in the mood. “If you are not down there with your work gang in two minutes I’ll ask Kim to drop you off on the next planet we find and get some replacements.”

“Kim isn’t likely to be listening to anything.”

She was going to say she’d get whoever was in charge to do it, but that would be Scree. And Kim was going to be fine. She was.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” She remembered what Captain Thorpe had said and looked around for one of the humans. Brick Dunning was close by, gazing over the heads of a pair of dwarves. “Brick?”

“Yeah, Ping.” He was almost as big as a troll.

“Drago, Makar, Tess and Dido are supposed to be in the engineering department and on the bridge.”

“And they aren’t there?”

“No.”

“Maybe they don’t know where the engineering department is,” Brick said. “You want me to show them the way?”

“If you could.”

Brick smiled at Drago. “You want to gather your friends.” It wasn’t a question.

A couple of minutes later Ping walked slowly out of the elevator and onto the bridge. Meledrin was there, and Tuki and Topper. But Scree wasn’t. Stone was sitting in the weapons chair, looking very serious as he studied the pictures of outside.

“What are you doing here?” Ping asked the troll.

He looked up. “Somebody’s got to do it.”

“I meant, why isn’t Scree here?”

Stone shrugged. “He’s in medical.”

“Is he sick too?”

“Nope. Watching Kim.”

Did she need watching? And why would Scree want to do it? Perhaps he was worried. Perhaps people really could change. After all, Stone was in the chair because ‘somebody has to do it’. It was doubtful those words had ever left his mouth in the past. And Topper? She did not look at the dwarf as she crossed to the second engineering seat and sat down. There was no doubt why he was on the bridge—because somebody had to do it—but why had he entered her cabin earlier?

A few minutes later, Drago and Tess entered the bridge. Apparently Brick’s guidance had not been required.

“How are we supposed to be on duty when you two are sitting there,” the dwarf asked. He stood with hands on hips. “Tess and I have work to do.”

Ping nodded, wondering if Drago realized how he had included Tess in his comment. “Topper and I were about to move.”

31: Thinking About It

Scree stared. “Cuto?”

The alien was babbling quietly, staring at the other two on the floor.

Scree got Cuto’s attention by repeating his name over and over and when the alien looked up he used his chin to motion to the manacles. Cuto got the idea and continued with the rescue though he was shaking as badly as Kim and it took a while to get organized. He found the keys and put them to use while Scree waited impatiently.

Scree raced to Kim’s side. She was conscious but didn’t respond to anything he said. He shook her gently. She looked in his direction but no recognition showed in her eyes.

He didn’t know what to do. He’d drawn Ping out of shock twice, but it had taken time. He didn’t have time. With a curse Scree opened Kim’s restraints and got her feet on the floor. She wouldn’t stand on her own. He left her leaning against the table, wavering, while he collected her clothes. They were torn to pieces—worst than useless.

The hurgon robes. He stripped one of the aliens and slipped the robe over Kim’s head. He noticed for the first time how badly her wrist was bleeding and used the remains of her shirt to make a bandage. He lifted her robe to examine the burns on her thigh as well. They were blistering and weeping but he knew there was nothing he could do. Bandages wouldn’t help.

“We’ll just have to see what happens, wont we?” Kim didn’t reply and Scree let the robe fall back down. She leaned against the table and stared.

Cuto was watching distractedly.

Scree ignored the hurgon and collected a wicked looking curved knife so he could take care of the guards—there were only two and they weren’t expecting trouble. He rammed the knife up into the first ones armpit. Blood sprayed as he pulled it free. He spun to the next and slashed it across the throat. The head almost came free. Both aliens toppled to the ground in a growing pool of blood.

“Bastards,” Scree said, throwing the knife down. He thought of dragging them into the room, but there was enough blood on the floor and walls to alert even the dumbest guard. He wiped more blood from his face. Cuto was in the doorway, staring at the dead aliens as if having second thoughts. Scree ignored him again as he went to collect Kim. She limped slowly forward at his urging, offering neither resistance nor help.

“Flayed cats, this’ll take all day.” He scooped her up in his arms. “Where are we goings, Cuto?”

It didn’t look as if they were going anywhere. The alien stood stupidly.

The elves could translate.

<Meledrin, you there?>

<Scree? Is that you? This is Bethalin. Scree, we thought... That is...>

<We ain’t dead yet, Beth, but we was thinking about it. What about the others?>

<We heard from them some time ago, but they are out of range now.>

<How you know they ain’t dead?>

<Well... They said they were travelling north to the P’targa compound. They were stealing a train because it is a hundred kilometers to the north.>

<They knows where it is?>

<I believe so.>

Scree needed to go after them—finding hurgon allies was the most important thing... He looked at Kim and muttered, “How could I help with the negotiations.” But was Keeble a better choice? All he could do was hope the various hakans could balance each other out. Elves and dwarves and trolls—surely they made a sensible person between them.

<Are you there?> Beth asked.

<Yeah. How do you say ‘take us to our ship’ in hurgon?>

Bethalin was silent for a moment then grunted her way through the strange words. <Do you have a hostage, Scree?> she asked when she was done.

Scree didn’t answer as he tried to remember the words. He transmitted in his mind while he spoke out loud so the elf could correct him if he was wrong.

Cuto replied, though it didn’t look very enthusiastic about the idea.

<What does pamghno kulth mean?>

<It means ‘of course’, or something similar. Although, with the hurgon language it can sometimes be—>

<Yeah, that’s great Beth. We’re on our way back.>

<Very well. I will inform Meledrin.>

<Tell whoever you like.>

Scree motioned for Cuto to lead the way. As he followed, he spoke to Kim. “Cuto’s taking us to the ship.”

She stared at nothing. Scree spoke to her as he walked.

#

Scree didn’t ask Cuto where they were going. He’d done it three times since they’d left the torture chamber for all the good it did. And it wouldn’t matter if Cuto explained the exact route they were taking—he was hardly in a position to argue.

When the lift door opened, Scree looked out into a big empty room. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought they were one level below the throne room where they’d met the Grandmother and Grandfather.

“Where are we going?” Scree whispered.

Cuto motioned like he was opening a door then strode out of the elevator. There was a small, timber door in the back corner of the room. It looked ancient, but most things on Hulgorn did.

As soon as they arrived, Cuto knocked and held a shouted conversation with someone beyond. And just when Scree thought the strangers had told Cuto to go kill a cat, the big old locks started to rattle and clank.

Scree carefully laid Kim on the floor and the moment the door started to open, he charged.

His shoulder hit the timber hard. Two hurgon were toppled backwards. There was another three meters beyond and two more to the right. All of them were armed.

Scree, staggering from the impact, kept his momentum going. He shifted course, put his shoulder into the chest of the next alien. None would stay down long, but it would give him time. While they struggled to catch their breath and rise, Scree turned to the last two guards.

They’d hardly moved. One was starting to raise a weapon, seemingly more through a very slow reflex than conscious choice. Scree danced forward, hitting it twice in the face. It staggered back and fell against the wall. Scree moved on, ducking down to sweep the final guard’s legs from under it. Upright again a moment later, he kicked the prone alien in the head.

The first three guards were climbing to their feet. Scree moved quickly. He punched one in the stomach, spun, slammed his elbow into the head of another. Two down.

The hurgon Scree punched in the face was finally thinking clearly enough to raise its weapon. Scree took three steps. He jumped, aiming a kick at the alien’s head. The creature moved quicker than expected. He had to content himself with kicking the weapon from its grasp.

Scree landed awkwardly and rolled to his feet.

The three aliens near the door were attacking. He dived toward them. Roll to his feet, hit one with a powerful uppercut to the chin.

Another gone.

Scree was pounded, a solid blow to the back of his neck. He stumbled forward into the path of the final hurgon’s fist. Shifting slightly, the blow glanced off his jaw. It stunned him. Momentum carried him through and into the clear.

One of the creatures was picking up a dropped weapon. The other was stalking forward.

Scree tried to clear his head. He took a deep breath, darted forward. He lashed out at the nearest alien with his foot, but it shied away in an instinctive reaction that saved it from a broken arm. The weapon was knocked clear.

“Stinking cats.”

The final hurgon, now on the far side of the room, had collected another weapon. It aimed and said something. Scree couldn’t understand, but got the general idea. He just couldn’t afford to give up. Scree dodged to the right, moved in. He probably wouldn’t make it.

He was halfway to the armed alien when Cuto decided to help. He’d collected one of the weapons from the floor and moved unnoticed to a corner. Now, standing behind the armed guard, he said something that got the guard’s attention. While he had the chance, Scree went quickly forward and snatched the weapon from the guard.

He stood back, weapon aimed, and watched while Cuto argued with the others. He breathed deeply and rubbed at the back of his neck. There was a big, tender lump there and his head pounded, but he’d live.

He smiled at the thought. I’ll lives.

Eventually, Cuto convinced the three conscious guards to drag their companions into the other room. Scree bought Kim the other way and Cuto locked the door.

It wouldn’t take long for the guards to raise the alarm, so Scree made his way to the next door and waited while Cuto composed himself. Then they set off, through the door and into a long hallway. Cuto took the first door on the left and climbed two floors to the roof. He muttered to himself the whole way.

<Beth, what’s...> Scree listened for one of the regular lines in the hurgon’s one sided argument and repeated it to the elf.

<It is something about a ‘verbal agreement’, I believe.>

They crossed a hundred meters of roof, skirting around pipes and ducts and skylights, before going down another set of stairs to the floor they’d started from. While they waited in the stairwell, Scree put Kim down and rubbed at his arms. He would have slung her over his shoulder, but wasn’t sure how her broken ribs would react to the treatment. Six hurgon jogged along the hallway outside. They waited some more. And a couple of minutes later a pair of armored hurgon stomped by in the hall. Finally, Cuto opened the door fully and went out. With a sigh, Scree took up his burden again and followed.

They followed the hall, then went down further and across a circular room to wait for a lifetime near another door. Eventually, though nothing seemed to have changed, Cuto pulled a big, metal lever. A spurt of steam hissed out into the room and the door opened. Scree followed as the alien across a covered bridge. Vacant, rubble-strewn ground was below them. There were Guards on a balcony above but they were looking elsewhere, watching a line of kidol racing across the sky.

The next building was more opulent. The guards were more numerous. Scree had a feeling that being caught now would involve a quick death and lots of questions among the hurgon afterwards. He held onto Kim and followed.

The next time they reached a relatively secure area, Scree had to rest again. He carefully laid Kim down and tried to massage his arms and shoulders. He was hungry and tired and wanted to talk to someone.

<Beth?>

<Yes, Scree?>

<How’s everything?>

<Everything is fine, Scree. The hurgon seemed to be readying an attack some time ago, but we disabled a machine and now wait to see what they will do next. Is all well with you, Scree? Are you on your way back?> Bethalin sounded concerned and Scree found he quite liked the idea.

<Maybe. Sorta. How can I tell? Cuto’s leading and I’m following but...>

<Cuto?>

<Yeah.>

Scree glanced at the hurgon. Cuto, crouching nearby, stared silently, watching without emotion.

Before Scree was ready, the hurgon was on his feet again. He opened the door slightly, looked out, and froze.

<Gotta go,> Scree said silently. Should’ve kept that damn knife.

Cuto glanced back before slipping out into the passage. Scree listened as he talked to another hurgon, and when the door started to open again a minute later, he could see a set of reddish brown fingers on the edge of the timber. He charged into the door. He hurt his shoulder but the hurgon flew across the hall and crashed into the far wall. It didn’t move. There was nobody else around. Cuto said something though Scree didn’t know what. So he flexed his shoulder, collected Kim and stood waiting.

“Is this going to take much longer?” he asked, though he knew they weren’t getting any closer to the ship at all.

<Beth?>

<Yes?>

<How does I ask where we’re going?>

Scree repeated the words Beth gave him but he didn’t need the elf’s help with the reply. Cuto was taking them to a kidol—one of the giant bats that the hurgon used for transport. He used his chin to motion the alien onwards.

Cuto led a twisting journey. They stopped every few meters, it seemed, to hide and wait and watch hurgon stomp past. Scree’s nerves were on edge. If they were spotted it would take a couple of seconds for him to put Kim down. It could be all over before he was ready to fight. Each time they stopped, each time a hurgon went past, he held his breath and waited silently.

Eventually Scree, on Cuto’s heels, slipped though what appeared to be just another door. He stood silently and stared.

The room was fifty meters long and ten meters wide. There were five hurgon in the room besides Cuto. They were sweeping and scrubbing, cleaning up the mess left by ten kidol. The creatures were chained to perches and looking out an open wall at the grey, thick air of Hulgorn. Except these giant bats were about the size of a Lander when the ones Scree was used to were five times that size. Most stared out the window squawking quietly and clacking their huge, toothy beaks. The bat closest to Scree was pecking at the manacle around its ankle as if ready to rip it away and leap out the window to freedom.

Cuto ignored the hurgon, collected a stepladder, and stood it by the closest creature’s side. He wordlessly urged Scree to climb.

One of the caretakers finally saw what was happening and shouted something. Scree couldn’t understand, but the words spurred him into motion. With a sigh and a moment of worry he slung Kim over his shoulder. She gasped but made no other sound as Scree climbed. By the time he reached the top, Cuto had undone the chains and was scrambling up behind. The other hurgon were rushing around but not doing much at all. One finally went to look for help. The rest came to a halt nearby. They held tools as if they’d use them but didn’t move.

At the top of the ladder, Scree stopped. He’d never even ridden a donkey so he certainly didn’t know how to ride an alien bat. Cuto pushed him from below and he started to lose his balance. He had no choice but to throw his leg over and hope. When he was sitting, he carefully maneuvered Kim into a similar position in front of him. The creature looked back over its shoulder with dark unreadable eyes and clacked its beak.

Cuto shifted Scree, moving him forward, hooking his feet underneath the wing. While Cuto adjusted Scree, Scree adjusted Kim. Finally the hurgon seemed happy and pushed Scree so that he was lying on Kim’s back. Then Cuto climbed on, laid behind Scree and shouted an order.

Guards burst into the room. Too late.

Scree felt the huge bat gather itself and leap into the nothing beyond the missing wall. His heart thumped in his chest and he felt a smile creeping onto his face. For the first few moments the kidol plummeted towards the ground. It snapped out its wings and the descent slowed. Then it started to fly. It beat at the air with powerful, easy strokes and gained altitude. Scree pushed Kim’s hair away from his face and tried to see.

The square in which they flew had high buildings on all sides and the kidol continued to work until they topped a building and skimmed along its roof.

It seemed to rest slightly then, slowing its stroke, waiting. Cuto shouted and they banked to the left. They also started to climb.

Cuto shouted again. The kidol looked back as it flew, then screeched and halted its climb. It stayed close to the roof as it turned eastwards.

Scree looked back the way they’d come. He could just see the window over the edge of the roof and watched as five more kidol threw themselves into the open. They fell from sight, but Scree had no doubt they’d be visible in a moment. And there was probably only one rider on each, so they’d catch up soon enough. He didn’t know what they’d do then.

#

When the kidol swerved, Scree could look back and see their pursuers. They were just meters behind but having trouble staying close. Scree decided the kidol weren’t used to flying amongst the obstacles on the roofs. They seemed to be enjoying the game immensely, dodging and swerving, weaving between towers and protrusions. Scree might’ve enjoyed it himself, in other circumstances.

They broke from the cover offered by the rooftop and flew out over an empty, grassy block. The trailing kidol labored furiously and gained ground. The first one was right there.

The kidol Scree was riding screech furiously. There was a shadow. Scree looked up and saw a kidol diving towards them. So close. Cuto shouted and their own mount jinked immediately and severely. A wave of air washed over them as the attacker, wings folded back, flash by just meters to the left. Wing’s touched in midair. Barely. Scree’s kidol screeched again, lurched, lost its balance. It struggled for a moment, losing altitude, before regaining its rhythm.

Scree gripped furiously with his knees and held onto Kim, but he didn’t close his eyes. The attacker flared its wings and tried to pull out of its dive. It was too late. It crashed into the ground with a sickening thud and terrified screech.

Scree heard another screech. There was a kidol just above them. Razor sharp claws extended, it snatched at the air as it tried to hold its position.

Cuto shouted. Their mount slowed suddenly and turned. Scree almost lost his balance but the bat swung back the other way and righted everything.

Cuto sent them curving away to the left with another bat snapping at their tail. They dipped down into a gap between two buildings, banked sharply around a corner then angled upwards to skim over a wall. They wove between antennae and machinery. The pursuers were closing again.

Scree cursed. Looking back, he could see Cuto’s face as the hurgon concentrated on their path. He didn’t look at all worried. They turned again, clearing the edge of the building by centimeters and dipping down into a square.

Now, Cuto shouted at the kidol constantly and slapped its side.

They were approaching another roost. Scree could see the kidol on their perches, all of them going wild. They were just a couple of meters away when one threw itself forward and broke its chain. Cuto directed their mount up over the wall and behind them the riderless bat flew headlong into one of the pursuers. Both creatures screeched and lashed out with their claws.

Moments later, a half dozen more uncontrolled bats came into sight and joined the fray.

Scree gave a cheer and turned his eyes forward. In the distance he could see the dome on the top of the Hakahei.

<Bethalin,> he said, <get ready. We’s coming home. And make sure nobody shoots no bats.>

Scree hadn’t really been directing the last statement at the elf, but she answered anyway. <Very well, though I cannot understand why they would want to shoot bats.>

Scree laughed. <Some little kidol is coming,> he said, <and we’s riding the one out the front.>

<Oh.>

<And you gotta tell Thorpe to get ready with his medical stuff. Kim’s got all sorts of problems.>

<I will let him know.>

<Good. We’s coming.>

Scree saw a group of hurgon in a tower nearby. They were tracking the kidol with a weapon, keeping it in their sights the whole way. It was probably only the buildings and the hurgon within that stopped them from firing. He looked back over his shoulder as well. There were two bats back there again, gaining every second.

Cuto sent their mount around the edge of a huge empty square. The kidol rose and dipped over obstructions, shrieking all the way. Hurgon watched from windows.

The pursuers were only twenty meters behind when Cuto directed the kidol out over the square surrounding the Hakahei. Two guns fired and Scree almost thought he could feel the heat of the beams as they passed overhead.

<What you shooting at?> he said, but he glanced back and saw the other two kidol tumbling to the ground. They screeched as they went and landed in a thrashing heap amongst the hurgon in the square.

Hurgon were moving all around the square, though what they were actually doing was hard to work out. Either way, Scree didn’t think it’d be easy to get from the bat’s back in through one of the cargo doors.

<Get the hangar door open,> he said in his head. <And be quick about it.> While he talked, he motioned to Cuto to do a lap of the ship.

He wasn’t sure the alien understood until it shouted an order. The kidol held its altitude and started to turn. When they sailed past the hangar door, Scree pointed. It had opened a crack and was quickly opening further still. Cuto nodded. They kept going around the ship and the hurgon on the ground started firing.

But Cuto shouted another order and the kidol gained some height. Then it folded its wings and ducked in through the hangar door with such ease and grace that it might have been doing it all its life.

It took a moment for it to find its balance on the hard floor, then it stood there, head bowed below the ceiling, and looked calmly around. By the time Scree passed Kim down to Peak and Gulch the door was already closing. Scree jumped down as Cuto chased the creature back out into the open.

32: Timely and Profitable

Keeble’s head was spinning.

Before the I’patin, De’linga and P’targa families had got down to the serious business of negotiation, the representatives of two more families had arrived. The last two families, O’sabet and La’nesto, were the smallest of the lot. Apparently they were hardly families at all. Whatever they were, their arrival added a whole new layer of complexity to the negotiations.

Keeble grunted. “Can we hurry this up?” he said. “We need to get to the bit where we stop people from dying.”

Suldon nodded, then rose to his feet and crossed to the table. Several guards shuffled forward, watching the elf carefully. Sandy stepped forward in response.

Suldon held a long conversation with the mother and all the fathers. Keeble almost fell asleep waiting for the outcome.

Eventually the elf turned back to look at Keeble.

“They say that stopping the war in not merely a matter of them asking for it to be done. Between these five families there are a total of thirty-seven kil’ini in the greater flock. It is hardly a speck in terms of voting. And seeing they are all minor families that only have one vote to the four of the Great families.”

“Well, they need to get more minor families involved.”

“How?”

“Umm... I don’t suppose they are willing to give up some of their profits to others? No?” Keeble wound the gears on his hand. “Well, what else would the minor families like?”

Suldon asked then translated the reply. “Nobody was really sure, though Father Jorf of the La’nesta said his family would like more room. They cannot grow much more in term of population because there is no room for them to grow. Apparently that is one of the major hurdles facing smaller families—they could make more profits with higher numbers, but cannot get more numbers because they cannot afford to buy land.”

Keeble nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen Tuki’s star-maps,” Flint said after a while. “There’s lots of stars out there.”

“So?” Keeble asked.

“Well, there must be lots of planets as well. Why aren’t they moving to some of them? Some must have air and stuff.”

“Probably better air than here,” Sandy added under her breath.

“Good question,” Keeble said. “Ask them, Suldon.”

“The mother says they are not able, because the Great families will not allow it.”

Keeble sighed. “How many Great and minor families are there?”

“54 Great families and 207 minor.”

“Plus those that are less than minor? I reckon that if all the minor families got together, in this one thing at least, then who could stop them?”

Apparently, nobody could. But any minor family that became involved in rebellion would be breaking a 500-year-old contract. And the ‘Contract of Council’ had been set up so that it didn’t end until the war ended.

Keeble sighed—another one of those problems that fed back on itself. They could finish the war if they could break the contract, and they could break the contract if they could finish the war...

“There’s no other way?”

“No.”

“And they aren’t willing to just break it?”

“I do not believe so.”

“Why not?”

“It is what their society has been based on for so long.”

“What does the contract say exactly? It can’t still be relevant after 500 years.”

Suldon talked to the hurgon for a short while. Tami joined in. “They are not positive about what is in the contract. They have never actually seen it, and they know of no one who has.”

Keeble was astounded. For people who put so much importance on contracts he would’ve thought they could recite it off the top of their heads. After a moment of staring, he suddenly thought he’d be able to recognize hurgon embarrassment in the future. Almost as one the fathers and mother shouted to their assistants. The assistants nearly knocked each over in their rush to get out the door.

#

“Wait a minute. What was that last bit.” Keeble laid his head on the table as Suldon asked the daughter to re-read the latest clause in the 125 page contract.

“If those participating in section (1), clause (a) should be—”

“Who are those?” Keeble asked. He shook his head, as if that might clear it. “Who are they? The ones participating?”

“They were the ‘Originals’. The eight Great families that were the principle signatories of the contract.”

“Right. Keep going.”

“If those participating in section (1), clause (a) should be found to be negligent in their duties, as outlined in section (45) subsection (iv) clause (b), then a majority vote in either council shall be sufficient to see the contract ceased as outline in section (19)—”

“That’ll do.” Keeble had been listening to the clatter of numbers and sections and here-to-with for so long that he wasn’t sure about anything any more. “What did that mean?”

Suldon gave it some thought. “It is obvious, I think—if the eight families in section (1)—”

Keeble gave the elf a look that stopped him in his tracks for a moment.

Suldon cleared his throat. “If they are not doing their job, the contract can be cancelled by a vote from 104 minor families who are up to date on the payments that keep them on the Lesser council.”

“So, there’s a way out then?”

“Well, yes, but only if they are not doing their job.”

“And what is their job? Without all the sections and number and... whatever else.”

Suldon got the hurgon who was doing the reading to find the relative page. The elf translated. “The... participants shall endeavor, with all care for the well being of the Great families, bring about a timely and profitable end to the conflict against the worlds of Hakahei.”

For the first time in several hours, Keeble smiled. “I don’t care how long you take to have breakfast in the morning, 500 years is not ‘timely’.” He sat back, almost tipping from his seating T, and smiled some more. He knew the next point was the clincher. “And how much money have all the families lost in that time as they geared up for this war? They could strip our seven worlds bare and they’d still be nowhere near making their money back.”

Tami was translating this for the hurgon, and Keeble could see the moment they started to get excited as well.

Suldon whispered in Keeble’s ear as Tami continued to speak with the hurgon. “They say that ‘timely’ may cause a problem, because others will be able to argue over that point for years. But they seem to think ‘profitable’ should do the trick.”

“Good. Well, tell them to hurry up then. More people, ours and theirs, are dying by the moment.”

“They must call an emergency session of the council. It may take a few days for everyone to arrive.”

“A few days? We don’t have that long.”

“There are 207 members of the council from all around the world. They cannot arrive in an hour. And—”

“Well... can we go back to the ship? I’m starving.”

“There is another problem, Keeble.”

Keeble stared. The elf sounded serious. More serious than usual, even.

“The fathers can return to their compound with copies of the Hakahei Contract for their grandmothers to approve and sign but, as already stated by Jisa at the train station, Grandmother Donni of the P’targa is not on this world. If Donni does not sign, the contract is worthless.”

“What? Nobody else can sign?”

“It is possible with some contracts,” Suldon explained, “but not one of this magnitude.”

“Well, they can call a council without the contract right?”

Tami stepped back from her conversation with the hurgon. “They can call the council but they will be going up against the great families, Keeble.”

“In the Lessor Council?”

“Yes. The great families will simply buy votes,” Tami said. “So the families here need to show strength and areas of possible profit for other minor families in order to set up a voting block they need.”

“So all of this was for nothing?” Keeble stormed across the room towards the hurgon and found a guard in his face “We’ve been—”

But Flint grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could do anything stupid. Keeble tried to calm down. He took a deep breath. He wound the gears on his mechanical hand. He took a deep breath.

“They are dying, Flint,” Keeble said. “Dwarves and trolls and elves. They are dying while we sit here talking pointlessly.”

“Not pointlessly, Keeble,” Tamidilin said. “We have made progress.”

“Progress?”

“This is a war, Keeble,” Flint said. “You can’t end normal ones overnight. And this one ain’t anywhere near normal.”

“But it could take a week. Thousands more could die in that time.”

“It’s the best we can do.”

Keeble slumped back against a wall and closed his eyes. “Tell them to hurry up, Suldon. Tell them we’ll take a copy of the contract to Grandmother Donni ourselves.”

“Mother Hupo and all the fathers think that would be best—they still do not trust each other completely—but they each wish to send a representative with us.”

“They want to put hurgon on the Hakahei?”

“They insist.”

“Whatever. Just tell them to hurry.”

#

The contract was difficult in the real world, but apparently simple on paper. Daughters from the five families had it organized in barely an hour. It was another three hours after that before the ten signed copies, one for each of the families and five for official records, were boxed on the desk and ready to go off-world for Donni’s signature. Then they’d have to come back to get the others.

Keeble was ready to leave, but he and his companions were put through half an hour of official farewells that they couldn’t understand anyway. Keeble thought that even Tamidilin wanted to say ‘goodbye’ and be done with it, but manners and tradition forced her to do the task properly. There was bowing—or what Keeble took for a hurgon form of a bow—and good wishes for the future and hopes that they’d return quickly so the contract could be officially registered and the war ended. And this and that and the other. Keeble tuned out half way through. When his turn came, he spoke to Tami at length about what he was going to have for lunch when he returned to the ship, then told her to come up with a suitable farewell. He was at the door before she was done.

“Mother Hupo suggests we return to the hub on a train—though one that stops at each station and does not draw attention to itself. And it wants us to wait for a signal from them before taking off.”

“Why?”

“Mother Hupo thinks there may be trouble.”

“The sooner we get to the Hakahei the better then. Let’s go.” Keeble could already taste the horrible mushy stuff in the shiny packets—and it tasted wonderful. Or maybe the dwives would have the kitchen set up and were cooking proper food.

They followed a small troop of guards, apparently heading towards the train station. Keeble had lost all track of direction but Sandy assured him they were heading the right way. She was bringing up the rear, hair beads clattering as she kept constant watch for trouble.

They stepped onto the platform several minutes later, just as a southbound train was pulling out.

“Is that our train?” Bargle asked.

“We must wait for the brothers, anyway,” Suldon said.

“The who?”

“The brothers. They are the representatives from the five families.”

Keeble looked around.

There were hardly any hurgon on the platform at all, nor on the other side of the track. There were a dozen civilians standing around plus as many guards.

A northbound train pulled in and Keeble wondered who controlled them all. There was only a single track here, so someone had to be switching them here and there and back again. That was the type of job that would be exciting for about five minutes, then extremely boring after that.

“Ask how long until the next train,” Keeble said.

Tami answered without asking their escort. “Approximately five minutes.”

“That’s not too bad.” In about two and a half hours they’d be back on the ship eating all they could eat.

Keeble was just starting to feel pleased with himself, having completed his first successful mission in charge, when things started to happen. He saw Flint and Sandy stiffen just as the latter said, “Trouble.”

33: Remember

Looking up, Keeble saw a group of hurgon exiting the train. That was not strange in itself, a lot of others had done the same, but these ones were wearing the yellow and red uniform of the T’loop. They came out in a line before arraying themselves along the edge of the platform. They had weapons. Keeble didn’t think they were going to ask nicely.

“Whenever you’re ready, Flint,” Keeble muttered.

“Ready for what? You want us to attack them?”

“No. Just get us out of here.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to get us out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Well...”

“Let’s just run then?” Keeble liked simple plans—unlike the bloody hurgon. They couldn’t go back the way they’d come. They were closer to a door on the other side of the platform. “Over there and up the stairs.”

“On three then.”

Keeble hadn’t known Flint could count to three.

“One... Two... Three.”

They turned and ran.

Behind them, the hurgon fired their weapons. Keeble felt a tickle against his shoulder. The hairs on his arm stood on end. He cursed as he bounded up the stairs behind Suldon.

There were shouted warnings and screams from behind. There were what could only be flung insults. But the firing of the weapons continued. Safely off the platform, Keeble stopped to look at his shoulder. The material of his shirt had been burned away. A ragged black hole showed red skin beneath.

“Whistler, that was close.”

“So what do we do now?” Sandy asked. She had a burn on her hip. It didn’t look good to Keeble but the trollop didn’t seem worried.

Another troop of P’targa soldiers rushed past, weapons at the ready. They charged down into the train station, firing as they went. Two died before they’d gone more than a couple of steps.

Keeble swallowed. Nina moved up the stairs and leaned against the wall. She stared at her hands and didn’t say anything. And Flint went the other way, taking a peek around the corner. And a second later the troll dashed out onto the platform, grabbed a weapon from a fallen P’targa and came back again.

“Don’t do that, Flint,” Keeble said. “That’s an order.”

The troll shrugged. “They was busy.” He gave the weapon to Sandy. It was only a glove, not a whole sleeve, but looked to be the same as the weapons attached to the armor.

“They might have been busy, but I’m sure they’d stop what they were doing to shoot a hakan if they had the chance.”

“Maybe.”

“What were they doing?”

“Shooting. Dying.”

“Who was doing which?”

“Everyone was doing both.”

Keeble was forced to stand aside as more soldiers came.

“How many of the T’loop were out there?”

“The ones at the station ain’t the problem. The one’s in the train are.”

“There’s a whole train load of them?”

Flint nodded.

As the troop of P’targa ran out onto the platform, Flint darted out and collected the other weapon.

Keeble scowled at him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Right. Won’t do it again then.”

“Course you won’t. We’ve got two trolls and two weapons.”

Flint smiled.

“What actions do we take at this point in time?” Tami asked.

“I asked that before,” Sandy pointed out, smiling at the elf. “Bet he doesn’t answer you either.”

“Why are we pretending I’m in charge, Flint?”

“Because you are.”

“Then—”

“You’s in charge of deciding what we do and where we go. I’m in charge of getting us there so we can do it.”

“Told you he wouldn’t answer.”

“Let’s finish this conversation away from here before—”

The few P’targa remaining on the train platform turned and fled.

“Run,” Flint said. And the troll pushed Keeble up the stairs.

Sandy was leading this time. Up to the next level, turn left.

Keeble ducked around the corner not far behind Suldon. He felt a burst of energy crackle through the air close by.

“Too much straight line here,” Flint muttered by his side. “Start Singing, Keeble.”

“What?”

“Sing.”

Keeble didn’t know how successful he’d be, but he started working on his Song.

“Any door, Sandy,” Flint shouted.

“Could be a dead end.”

“Don’t care.”

Sandy picked a door as the T’loop clattered off the stairs and into the hallway. The trollop turned. She crouched down and fired her weapon.

Nina and Tami were through the door a second later. Everyone else followed. Keeble didn’t think he’d make it. He was having trouble concentrating on where he was putting his feet and the Song wasn’t even complete. But Flint was urging him on. He went through the door with the trolls on his heels.

He paused for breath and built the rest of the Song quickly.

There was a thump at the door.

They were in a storeroom with shelves lining most walls. There was one bare patch where a pair of mops stood in a bucket. “There,” he said, pointing as he focused his Song on the wall. The mops tumbled to the floor. One second slower and Tasko would’ve been trying to run through solid stone.

The door burst open as everyone else surged forward.

Tami tripped on the bucket. Suldon and Bargle righted her.

Keeble almost fell as well and stumbled through. Weapons firing. Crackling energy. Flint looming over him.

“Close it,” the troll shouted.

Keeble snapped off his Song. He gasped for breath.

“Where are we now?” Bargle asked.

“How would I know,” Keeble replied.

“It seems to be sleeping quarters of some kind,” Suldon said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Flint said. “We should keep moving.” The troll was looking back the way they’d come. His fingers were pressed against the solid stone of the wall.

“Where is Sandy?” Tami asked.

“What?” Keeble looked around, as if he might miss seeing a black, 185 centimeter tall slab of muscle and attitude. “Where’s Sandy?”

Flint shook his head. “They were coming too quick.”

“We can’t leave her there,” Keeble said. Nobody gets left behind. “Why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you—”

“I didn’t know, Keeble. Not until it was too late.” Flint spun around and headed for the door. “She was already dead.”

“What?”

“She slowed them down, Keeble. Without her...” He pulled on the door handle, but apparently it was locked.

“She was a good trollop,” Flint said quietly as he examined the door.

“I’m sorry, Flint,” Keeble said. “I...”

“Weren’t your fault—she was doing her job.” He shrugged. “Anyways, we’ve had more fun since we been on the ship than we’ve had in a long time.”

Keeble didn’t think it was all right. He wasn’t sure Flint really believed it either. “Just because she was having fun, and just because she was doing her job, that doesn’t mean we can’t be sorry she’s gone. It doesn’t mean we can’t regret what happened. And it doesn’t mean it’s all right.”

Keeble turned when Nina moved to his side. She didn’t do anything except wipe the tears from her own face and look at him.

Flint broke down the door. “Come on.”

Keeble swallowed. “Where are we going?”

“That’s for you to decide, remember.”

“We can’t leave her.”

But the choice was taken away, if there had ever been a choice. They had barely walked out into the hall when a trio of guards found them. Weapons were raised. Warnings shouted. Explanations given.

Suldon, hands raised, did a lot of explaining. They took some convincing but Keeble really didn’t care. One of the hurgon rushed away to find a superior officer. And they waited. Twenty minutes later, the hurgon returned and they were led into the maze of passages and hallways that crisscrossed the compound.

More than once, Keeble glanced back over his shoulder, each time expecting to see Sandy guarding his back. He would’ve felt safer if she’d been there. He didn’t realize how comforting the sound of her hair beads had been, as if she’d worn them to let everyone know she was still there watching their backs. The silence left behind was painful.

They climbed more stairs, moving quickly, then rushed down a long, wide hallway. Hurgon in their loose, colorful clothes stepped aside to let them pass. It wasn’t long before they were shown to something that looked a bit like a bus from Earth. It didn’t touch the ground though, and an arm went out through a slot in the roof of the building. A skyrail, Keeble guessed.

Five hurgon were already inside, standing against the far wall. Each had a large pack on the floor near their feet.

Keeble turned as the leader of their escort said something.

“The brothers will escort us from here,” Suldon said, motioning to the hurgon in the cabin. “These warriors are to return to the battle.”

“They want you to give up your weapon, Flint,” Tami added.

“What? Why? No.”

“It is a P’targa weapon. If you were to be seen with it by the wrong hurgon it could be difficult for the family.”

Flint looked the guards up and down, as if wondering if he could take them all, then grunted and handed the weapon over. “They got something else I can have?”

Apparently not.

They were herded onto the skyrail car. Before the door closed, Keeble grabbed one of the warriors by the arm.

“Suldon, find out this hurgon’s name and tell it that I will hold it personally responsible for how Sandy is treated. We want her buried with a remembrance stone.”

“I am not sure we should be making demands, Keeble. And burial might be inappropriate in hurgon society.”

“Tell it.”

“Very well.”

Keeble didn’t have the energy for anything else. When Suldon started to speak and it was obvious the hurgon was listening, he sat down on the floor and closed his eyes.

“That is, Biti, Keeble, and it says it will make sure our requests are met.”

“Good.” But it didn’t sound good. Keeble sighed. He wasn’t supposed to leave anyone behind. That was the rule.

#

The skyrail took them to the hub via a dozen compounds. They skimmed across the tops of buildings and flashed between towers. They leapt over vacant lots. Keeble saw none of it. He heard nothing of what his companions said—after the first few minutes he didn’t know if they said anything at all. He didn’t move until Flint nudged his shoulder three hours after they set out.

“What is it?”

“We’ve reached the hub.”

All the others were already outside. Keeble joined them and the carriage continued on its journey. The five brothers, all wearing non-descript clothes, packs on their backs, stood calmly nearby. They appeared as calm as any hurgon Keeble had seen. He didn’t think they were lawyers.

He tried to keep his mind on the job. “How far to the ship?”

Flint pointed.

Out a window, across the top of a gabled roof, Keeble could see the top of the Hakahei. It was barely two hundred meters away.

“Let’s go then.”

For a moment, Flint stood in indecision and Keeble knew what he was thinking. Sandy would’ve stayed with the group, watching for trouble coming up behind, while he led out. That wasn’t possible.

“You watch the rear, Keeble,” the troll said eventually.

Keeble found it strange to realize that he was about to admit there was a job that a woman could do better than he. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Take one of them with you?” He pointed to the hurgon.

“They won’t be able to help,” Flint said. But he looked them up and down and came to the same conclusion Keeble had reached earlier—the brothers weren’t the type of hurgon who sat around in offices all day long. He nodded, found a volunteer and headed for the door. Keeble brought up the rear.

They found stairs and went all the way to the bottom. Keeble stopped at the top of each flight to look around and one of the hurgon stopped with him. If there was any danger, Keeble intended to shout a warning and run for cover. He didn’t know what his silent companion would do. He didn’t know if he’d see any trouble anyway. Tears blurred his vision. He couldn’t concentrate. She was just a troll—a woman—and she was having fun...

He hurried to catch up to the others.

On the ground floor, he realized where they were. They were only fifty meters from the train station.

Flint was standing at the door to the long hall with the colonnades and historical clutter. He had his hand on the door handle. “Long hall through here,” he said. “Guards at the end.”

Keeble nodded. He could feel the others watching him.

Bargle cleared his throat. “Can we go another way?” he asked. “We could cut through some walls, maybe. That way we can come out in a place the hurgon don’t expect.”

Flint shook his head. “Chasm says the hurgon are everywhere. Wouldn’t matter where we went out.” He tugged on his moustache.

Keeble wasn’t about to give the order to go through the door. The only plan he ever came up with was simply running, and it never really worked...

But Bargle was not done. “Could someone clear a landing zone with the ship’s guns—don’t even have to kill anyone. Then they can get a Lander onto the ground. We could go through the wall and straight into the back.”

Flint was nodding, but Keeble didn’t know if he was up to Singing.

“We’ll do that,” the troll said. “But we’ll go through this door first. Will save us time and energy.” He glanced at Keeble but didn’t say anything more.

“But the guards...” Keeble said.

“There’s only four and they ain’t got any armor.” Flint looked the hurgon up and down. “These brothers got weapons, Tami?”

“They do,” Tami replied after asking, “but they are not willing to fire on other hurgon at this stage. That would be an act of war and would see the great families outlaw them. That would make all contracts void. It would make all arguments the families might present to the councils as irrelevant.”

“But it’s all right for us to kill hurgon?”

“Apparently.”

“And what about all that shooting back at the train station?”

“I am unsure. Perhaps it has to do with who was in which compound.”

Flint shook his head. “Just sounds like excuses to me.” He sighed. “Well, we ready then?”

Keeble saw everyone else nod, but he just stared.

Flint pulled the door open and charged into the hall. Tasko, Bargle and Suldon followed. They raced across the inevitable grey tiles, heads down, arms pumping.

Keeble took three steps through the door then stopped. Nina and the brothers were just behind him, Tami to his left. They all watched silently.

The guards reacted slowly, their attention fixed on the noises beyond the door they were guarding.

Flint and Suldon led the race. The elf was lithe and graceful, hardly seeming to touch the floor. The troll powered along like a landslide.

Suldon slowed when he reached the first hurgon and lashed out with his leg to knock away the guard’s weapon. Flint kicked as well. Leaping high into the air he smashed the heel of his heavy boot into a guard’s face. They both fell to the floor and only Flint got up.

The dwarves arrived. Bargle launched himself into the air. He cannoned shoulder first into Suldon’s opponent, knocked it to the ground. The elf finished things with a kick.

Tasko slid to halt and punched a hurgon in the stomach. He ripped the weapon from the alien’s grasp and threw it away. He punched again and again before the hurgon thought to retaliate.

Flint was already onto the final guard. The hurgon didn’t stand a chance. Keeble couldn’t doubt that it had been hakans and not hurgon who had started the war all those years ago. Even after spending centuries getting ready, the hurgon weren’t a warlike race.

Soon all four of the guards were on the floor. Keeble didn’t really care. He watched the end of the fight with little enthusiasm. They still weren’t back on the ship—anything could happen.

As if to prove the point, the hurgon Suldon and Bargle had first attacked moved. It pushed itself to its knees, weapon raised. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Nina yelled a warning and Flint turned to look, first at Nina, then behind him. He started to move. Keeble could see that it was too late, even for a troll. There was ten meters between them and it was too late.

There was a soft hum. Keeble turned to his left to look. Tami was standing amidst the clutter beyond the row of columns, holding the huge, curling bow in her hands. She was standing perfectly still, staring at the far end of the room.

“Are you hurt, Bargle?” Tami asked after a moment of silence.

Keeble followed her gaze and saw the young dwarf holding his neck. Behind him, the hurgon had slumped to the floor with a long, fletched arrow protruding from its chest. Bargle must have been almost directly between the elf and her target.

Keeble walked slowly down to the other end of the hall. He pulled Bargle’s hand away from his neck and examined the wound. It was a nick, bleeding freely.

“It’s nothing,” Keeble said. But he looked back at Tamidilin. She was using a strange bow with an unknown arrow. What she had done was either dangerous in the extreme or very brave. Actually, it was both. She was a woman. An elf. If she could do that...

The elf brought the bow and a quiver of arrows with her. The hurgon and Nina came along behind.

“Let’s not worry about going anywhere else,” Keeble said. He wanted to get back to the ship. He wanted to sit down. He wanted to sleep. Pointing to the wall beside the door he said, “I’ll Sing through that—just tell me when.”

Flint nodded and Keeble started to Sing softly. He built his Song carefully from the ground up, making sure every joint and seam was perfect. Time seemed to stretch. It took forever for Flint to give the signal. Keeble kept expecting the door to open, or for someone to come through from the station. All remained quiet inside, while outside the noise of the sieging hurgon washed over everything.

“Right,” Flint said.

Keeble shifted his Song, focused it, and stepped through the wall. The Lander was just a meter away with the back door open. Keeble stepped forward and onto the Lander. He sat in a chair, keeping his Song going without thought. The brothers did not seem surprised when they joined him. They stood in the aisle and watched as everyone else came through.

Outside, hurgon were screaming and shouting. Flashes of energy lanced away from the Hakahei. More often than not they hit only ground, but occasionally one of the aliens decided to take the risk and was shot. There was a huge machine turning to face them.

“Where’s Sandy?” someone shouted. Flint shook his head in reply and the Lander lurched away from the ground. Keeble stopped Singing and closed his eyes.

34: Different People

Tuki stood by the door with Ruby. He watched the Lander dart into the hangar and smiled when his friends started to emerge. Ruby hit the button to close the door. She did not look very happy. Those climbing down did not look happy.

“What is wrong?” Tuki asked Ruby quietly.

She shook her head but answered anyway. “Sandy got dead.”

“What?” Tuki turned back to the Lander and looked for Sandy. She wasn’t there. The others milled about the back of the vessel as if they didn’t quite know where they were supposed to go next.

There were two dozen people in the hangar and none spoke above a whisper.

Not until five hurgon climbed down from the Lander as well.

A flood of conversation broke out then, most of it angry, as if Flint would bring Sandy’s killers onto the Hakahei.

Chasm stepped forward with her troop and led the new comers towards the stairs. Keeble, head down, walked silently in the middle of the group.

Soon, only Tuki and Ruby remained.

“Come on, Tuki.” She took his hand. “Let’s go and have something to eat. Somebody might be able to tell us what happened.”

Tuki wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had happened but he went anyway because he could never resist Ruby.

The dining hall was full for the first time since Sherindel. Half the people, including Keeble and companions, were eating. The others were watching expectantly.

The hurgon were nowhere to be seen.

Looking at Keeble, Tuki suddenly felt guilty. He had come here to hear the story of how Sandy had died with no thought to whether his friends wanted to tell the tale.

Tuki felt somebody behind him. Mintar and Dogar were waiting to get by.

Tuki decided it was time to put his officer title to use. “The dining hall is closed,” he said.

“What do you mean? I can see isn’t closed. It’s full.”

“That’s why it’s closed. We cannot fit anyone else in here.”

“But I want—”

“Come back later,” Tuki said, staring at his feet.

It seemed Dogar would push his way past but Ruby cleared her throat as if the dwarf needed to be reminded that she was there as well. Dogar and Mintar grumbled but walked away down the hall.

Tuki turned back to the mess and cleared his throat as well. He didn’t quite know what to say though. Perhaps Keeble and his companions would like to talk. Perhaps they wanted to be surrounded by others but... He cleared his throat again. “Everyone,” he said, but of course nobody listened. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Ruby shouted. “Listen up.”

The noise in the room died down slightly. Tuki stared at his shoes for a moment, then looked up. “Everyone who is not already eating food has to leave,” he said. There were complaints from all around but Tuki didn’t listen. “There are people here who are trying to eat and they should be allowed to do that in peace.”

Everyone knew who he meant and at least some of them seemed willing to concede his point. They grumbled as they did so, but a large proportion of those who were not eating rose to their feet and filed from the room. Some stayed where they were. The line over by the vending machines did not break up either. Tuki turned to them.

“Lining up for food is not eating,” he said to the people. “Come back later. And the rest of you.”

There were more complaints. “And what if we don’t go? What are you gunna do then?”

What was he going to do? That was a good question.

Chip, one of four trolls present besides Flint, was halfway to the door. He stopped and looked back. “He’ll get some trolls to help get the message through is what he’ll do.”

“What are you going to do?” Milo shouted to Tuki. The young dwarf was near the front of the queue. “Are you going to have something to eat?”

If there was one thing Tuki knew from watching Kim, it was that leaders should not get special treatment. “I am not eating,” he said, “so I will be leaving. And when others have finished eating they will leave too—they will not go back for seconds. There will still be plenty of food later.”

Those still present and not eating headed for the door, walking slowly as if Tuki might change his mind or forget they were there.

Finally the room was only half full and Tuki retreated to the hall. Ruby closed the door behind her. “Let’s go see Kim instead,” she said.

Tuki nodded and started to push his way through the crowd.

“Get away from here,” Ruby said as she followed in his wake. “There ain’t nothing happening here. Go and do something.”

Kim was stretched out on a bed in the medical bay. Thorpe had attached all sorts of things to her. There was a needle in her arm that went to a bag. There were wires that attached to a beeping machine. There were tubes and more wires. Scree sat in a chair nearby. He had been there since first carrying Kim in. He refused to go anywhere. He had not even helped with the rescue of Keeble and his companions though he was still the best driver.

Scree looked up as Tuki entered.

“Mo-boy. What ya doing?”

“I just came to see Kim,” Tuki replied quietly.

Scree nodded. “Thorpe says it helps to talk to her, ‘cause she can hear us even though she ain’t responding.”

Tuki had intended to tell Scree about Sandy, though he must have already known from the radio in his head. But if Kim could hear then talking of a dead companion might not be the best idea. “How is she?”

“Thorpe says she is healthy enough but she just moved her mind back from the edge so she couldn’t notice nothing.”

“When she was...”

Scree nodded again. “And now she still can’t notice nothing.”

“When... Will you come and talk to Keeble when he is ready?”

“What for? I can’t help him.”

Tuki almost didn’t argue with the troll but Ruby gripped his hand and squeezed. Whether she was supporting this particular conversation or just supporting in general Tuki did not know. Staring at his feet he spoke again. “You can help, Scree. You are in charge while Kim is...” He gestured vaguely. “Until she is better. And Keeble is a dwarf, so I think the best thing for him is to do some work. I don’t think he will do that unless someone tells him to.”

“That’s what you think is it? What if he doesn’t need to work and I make him do it? What if all he needs is to be left alone?”

Tuki shrugged. “Then I suppose you make that decision. As long as you do make the decision and don’t just...” he shrugged again.

“And don’t just sit here doing nothing?”

“Yes. Maybe you need to do something as well. In Danyon Ford people were often given special duties to tune their mind back into the well being of the village.”

“And Danyon Ford was perfect, weren’t it?”

Danyon Ford had not been perfect, as Scree knew very well, but its problems were not in the day-to-day issues. They were larger than that.

Tuki tried another tack. “Kim left Meledrin in charge, Scree.”

Scree grunted. “Won’t get nothing done.”

“That’s right. Unless you go back up and take charge again.”

Scree didn’t say anything.

Ruby shifted her feet. “We’s waiting for a signal from them P’targa to say we can leave the planet. When that happens...”

Scree turned to look at Kim, then did not move again.

#

Tuki turned off his music machine and sat back down. Ruby was lying on the big bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Is Flint talking on the radio?” Tuki asked Ruby. She nodded. “So he is all right?” Keeble and his companions still sat in the dining hall. They were on their own now and had been for some time.

“He ain’t happy Sandy died—and he’s having trouble getting used to the idea that he cared about her—but he’s only there ‘cause the others is.”

“Are they talking?”

“No. Just sitting.”

Tuki did not think that was good. From what he had seen it was Keeble who had been affected the most, which was strange in itself, but for them all to be just sitting there... The mood was hardly better in the rest of the ship. Everyone had survived being stuck in the other universe, where there was no hope. To lose Sandy now, like this, seemed impossible.

“We need to do something,” Tuki said. Getting to his feet again, he paced the room. Ruby watched him. He wondered when he had become so comfortable with her presence. Eventually he spoke again. “In Danyon Ford we used to have a ceremony when someone died. The bodies were taken to a place down Dry River and buried so that their spirits could slowly return to the Earth. And then moai would get up and say things about the one who had died. We all knew the person had died, but we could remember the good things about them and warm the spirits with our friendship.”

Ruby didn’t say anything.

“Would the trolls be offended by that?”

Ruby shook her head. “It takes a lot to offend trolls, Tuki, though I ain’t sure we’d feel the same way about it that you do.”

“Should we do it, do you think?”

She shrugged.

#

Tuki took the small brass plaque from Milo an examined it. It was highly polished and the curving letters, in the language of Rongo, were beautifully formed. The words were:

Sandy

Watching our backs

Hulgorn

1AC

Tuki had thought for a long time about the last bit—the date. Which date did they go by? Kiva’s or Earth’s or Hulgorn’s? In the end he had decided to make another date, so it was now the year 1AC—after contact. He wondered if anyone would mind. And he had wondered about what to say on it as well. Should they have just said her name? Flint had said how she had died when Ruby asked but...

He sighed. He could think about these things all day and still not know. The only way to find out was to show everyone else.

He found the microphone in the engineering bay. He had seen them used many times before but had never had the need or the courage to use one himself. Making sure it was on the right setting he pressed the button, which made speakers all over the ship beep, then cleared his throat. As soon as he did that he realized it would have been better to clear his throat first. He blushed.

“Umm...” he said into the microphone. He released the button and cleared his throat again. He looked to Milo and Ruby for support. Milo was shaking his head ruefully, which did not help at all, but Ruby smiled and motioned for him to try again. He did.

“Umm... Could everyone who is not on duty please report to the west garden.” Report? He had heard Kim used that word. And most people, when they used the paging system also repeated themselves, to be sure nobody misheard. So Tuki said the sentence again. When he was done he left his finger on the button for a moment before thinking to release it.

“So, I can’t go then?” Milo asked. “I liked Sandy, too.”

“But somebody has to monitor the systems. And you can watch on a screen.”

He grunted in disgust. “What’s the chance something’ll happen in the next half an hour?”

“I do not know,” Tuki replied. “But would you forgive yourself if something happened on your shift and you were not here to fix it?”

Milo grunted again but didn’t argue. Tuki smiled to himself—he was pleased to know that he had come up with the right argument. It was not hard when you knew a little bit about how people thought.

“You’ll need this then,” Milo said, rummaging through a wall cabinet. He eventually handed Tuki a tube.

“What is it?”

“Glue. Just put some on the back of the plaque and it should stick to just about anything. Just don’t wait too long after squeezing it out.”

“Thank you.”

Tuki took the glue and the plaque and made his way to the gardens. Grass was already starting to grow there, tiny shoots poking above the soil. Dozens of other plants seemed to be flourishing as well. There were none near the western ducting though so the large black wall would still be in the clear when the elves had completed their work.

Some of the elves had obviously been working when Tuki made his announcement. Meledrin stood in the middle of the open space with Palsamon and Lisarea. Others started to arrive in ones and twos and threes. They all looked confused but Tuki did not explain anything just yet. Keeble was one of the last to arrive with Flint and Tamidilin just before him. When the trickle slowed and finally stopped, Tuki looked around.

He thought it strange that he felt closer to these people than he had to most of those in Danyon Ford where he had spent the first eighteen years of his life. Some he had hardly spoken to, like Hoodek and Penisari, Dosa and Gulch. Others he considered as family—the members of the Nav Department, with whom he spent so much time, and the members of the original crew. He looked around for Scree and Kim, but Kim was still sick and Scree most likely with her. Finally, he looked at Ruby for a moment. She was no longer by his side, going to stand with the spectators instead. These were people he would do anything for, he realized, and he held the memory of one in his hands.

He cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away from Ruby’s face.

“I am not sure who believes in the gods,” he said. He had given thought to what he was going to say but the words seemed to drift away from him. “And I am not sure what gods you might believe in.”

He stalled but saw Ruby still smiling softly.

“The gods are there or they are not. Does it matter? No, because I realize now that religion has nothing to do with them. It is about what we believe in our hearts, and how we act on that belief. The gods are just the excuses we use to justify our actions.” Tuki was not sure where he was going with the speech. He paused and examined his audience. None of them were moving.

“Trolls do not believe in any gods,” he continued. “What they do they do for their own reasons and they make no excuses. So Sandy did not do the things that led to her death because of a threat or a promise, she did them because she wanted to. She did them because that was what was in her heart.” He cleared his throat and ran his fingers along the lettering on the plaque. “Sandy went out onto a strange world to guard her friends and she died while those friends lived and made it home. Can there be any higher praise for a guard?”

There were rumblings of agreement from the audience.

Tuki nodded slowly. “I asked Milo to make this plaque,” he said, examining it again. “I am going to put it on the wall here, so we will not forget.”

He carefully squeezed some glue onto the back of the metal then lined it up on the wall. He was going to put it in the center but decided, no matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise, there might be more deaths before the war ended. Making sure it was straight, he pressed it against the cold metal of the wall over near the side. When he took his hands away, the plaque stayed in place.

He turned back to the rest of the crew. “If anyone else wants to say something...” He stepped aside to let someone else take his place. For a long time nobody moved. Finally, Ruby stepped forward.

“Sandy weren’t much older than me,” she said, “but she’d been with Cockroach Pack long time before I joined. It was my first pack, and I was scared in our first few raids ‘cause I was only thirteen, but she looked out for me.” It looked like that was all she was going to say. But she added, “She shared her loot with me.”

When Ruby returned to the group, Tess stepped slowly forward. “Sandy was my friend too,” the dwife said. “And she also showed me that I didn’t have to be scared.”

For a long while after Tess had finished nobody said anything. Tuki was about to suggest that they have a minute’s silence to think about Sandy when Keeble cleared his throat and stepped forward.

The dwarf went to look at the plaque. He reached up and used his sleeve to polish away Tuki’s fingerprints. When he was done, he turned to the audience. “I didn’t know Sandy very well,” he said. “She was a woman... why would I care?” The crowd muttered. “She couldn’t build a chair. She couldn’t fix an engine. But for everything she couldn’t do, there was something she could do. She wasn’t worse than me or better than me. She was different. And the universe needs as many different people as possible. It says on the plaque that she was watching our backs, and she was. And I’m sure that if heaven exists then she’s watching them still.”

Tuki watched Keeble. Everyone did. The dwarf stood perfect still for a long time, head bowed, as if saying a prayer, or remembering. Then he nodded and walked slowly back to the group.

Tuki went to stand in front of the wall again. “I think—”

The ship rocked. A harsh alarm sounded.

Bethalin’s voice sounded over the speakers. “We are under attack.” She was very calm. “We are under attack.”

Tuki did not think that sentence needed to be repeated.

In the garden everyone stood in shock. The trolls were the first to react, heading for the stairs at a run. Before they had gone far another voice came over the speaker.

“Emergency situation in engineering,” Milo said. “Systems down everywhere.”

Tuki stared while everyone else started to move.

35: Red Flags

Ping raced into the engineering bay just behind Keeble. Milo was at one of the monitors, punching at the touch screen with one hand and using the keyboard with the other. Ari had a panel hinged open in the corner of the room and was trying to put out a small fire.

“What’s going on?” Ping asked, wiping tears from her eyes. Keeble went to work on a separate computer.

“Some type of electrical pulse did something to Gravitic field generator number 1,” Milo said, “and the heating circuits are out all over the place.”

Keeble added some more. “We have a hull breach on Levels 3 and 4 at point 46.”

Ping tried to think while Keeble and Milo searched. Dwarves were crowding into the room behind them. She turned to look and tried to prioritize tasks. If they had to take off, which seemed likely, then the hole came first. They could live without heating for a while if they had to.

“Topper, take your work gang, plus Drago and Tasko, and repair that hole, starting on Level 3. Just make us space worthy—don’t worry about anything else.” She rubbed at her temple. Who was on the bridge? Anyone? Seeing Milo and Ari were on shift that would mean... she tried to think of her roster. It was Keeble’s shift so Dogar was on the bridge. But work gangs meant nothing now, besides a quick way to allocate jobs if needed. Did they need someone else up there? Not now, but they would if they got into the air. “Bargle, you’re Dogar’s right hand man on the bridge. Makar, Tess, Dido—Level 4. Get some EVA suits—everyone get EVA suits—and seal the storeroom doors. Then clear away the crap for when Topper is ready to repair the hole.”

What else was there? She tried to think. The Gravitic Field Generator—one was still on line but...

Those who had been assigned jobs had already left.

“Keeble, the generator,” Ping said.

“What?” He looked up from the monitor and seemed surprised to find the room half empty.

“One of the field generators is down. We need to fix it, especially since it may be upsetting the alignment again.”

“Right.”

“You do that. I can search the computer just as well as you.”

“Right.” He nodded and looked around to see who was still with them. “Ari, Kesi, Kafin—tools. And get the inspection panel off generator number 2.” He turned back to the computer and began to look at the problem in detail. Two of his helpers were dwives, but he hardly seemed to notice. They ran to obey just as another blast rocked the ship.

Ping swore and went to work at another monitor. Milo was cataloguing problems and flagging them in order of importance. Drink dispenser on level 2 was malfunctioning. Lift 6, a freight elevator, was out of order. A clock was running at double time. The field generator. There were a dozen other flagged faults besides and a dozen more red flags waiting to be inspected.

“Are we ready to fly?” Bargle asked over the intercom. He must have only just arrived.

Ping hit the button. “Not yet.” So Scree had decided to grace them with his presence.

“How long?”

“I don’t know. We’ll say when.”

“All right.” It did not sound as if he was very keen to pass on that information.

“Right.” Ping looked around. They were starting to run out of people. Keeble was gone. Only Dosa and Milo remained. She examined Milo’s list once more, scrolling through it. The faulty clock was a higher priority than Milo thought—it should be right near the top. Who knew what a broken clock that was still connected to the system would do if they needed to go through an Ohoga Gate? “Dosa, change of plan. First, tell Topper he’s to come back down here when he’s done on 3. Forget the hole on 4—we’re flying as soon as possible and we can seal the storeroom so it really doesn’t matter. Then you get Makar, Tess and Dido and disconnect clock number 1 from the system. And do it quick. Then wait for more instructions.”

The dwife looked very nervous but she nodded and hurried away.

Ping moved to the next flashing red flag to see what the problem was. The outer airlock door on level three was jammed. Good, as long as it was jammed shut. Damage to both air recyclers. Important. Ping put it below the repair of the clock. Water leak in the Level 6 bathroom. She thought about that one for a moment. It might be important, depending on what the computer meant by ‘leak’. Was it dribbling or gushing? Get someone to check it out soon and let them decide on the priority. No power to the workshop or hangar—didn’t matter just yet.

The ship shuddered again and more warning flags materialized on the screen.

There was a pressure build up in the fuel still. That couldn’t have been a result of the last hit they’d taken, it must have been happening for some time.

“Milo?”

“Yes?” He looked up from the screen.

“Your turn.”

“What?”

“Pressure build-up in the fuel still.”

“But...” Milo looked around. There was nobody else. “Right.”

“Do you need help?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe.” He grabbed a toolbox from a locker and was gone.

Ping wondered what the others were doing. Seeing she didn’t know how badly the hull was breached she didn’t know how long Topper would be, and his party was the one upsetting the balance. Dosa would probably need about fifteen minutes to disconnect the clock. Not long now.

Another red light started flashing. At almost the same instant a discordant sounded echoed around the ship. The sound oscillated. It changed tone and pitch and frequency. It danced through registers. Ping blocked her ears but it didn’t help.

“What’s that noise?” Bargle asked over the intercom just as Keeble stuck he head out of the Gravitic field generator and shouted the same question.

“I’m not sure.” She checked the latest problem. “It’s the Ohoga engine.”

“Whistler.” Keeble came out into the room. Ari poked her head out behind him.

“What’s that?”

“The Ohoga engine,” Keeble was getting another tool kit. “You keep going on the generator.”

“All right.” The dwife disappeared.

The noise continued.

Finally, one of the problems was fixed, or at least postponed. On the screen the red symbol beside clock number one changed to yellow—still not working correctly, but no longer affecting any other system.

Ping hit the pager button. “Dosa, the Ohoga engine. Level 6, north west.”

The sound from the Ohoga engine continued. Ping thought it was turning her brain to jelly. It seemed to shake her very bones.

Milo’s voice erupted form the intercom. “I need help. This could blow. Things are jammed—”

“Okay. Give me a minute.” But Ping needed more than a minute. She had nobody left. Topper on the hull, Ari on the generator, Keeble in the Ohoga engine. She couldn’t go herself—somebody needed to stay in control. But with the noise and the fault reports on the screen Ping didn’t know if she would be in control for much longer. She pushed the pager button and wondered who to send. Last resort. “Captain Thorpe can you take your men to Level 7 west. Captain Thorpe and troop to 7 west. And quick.” They could unjam things and bash them if that was all that was needed, if not... it was Milo’s problem now, she could do nothing more.

Ping realized she was standing in water. She started to follow a stream out the eastern door. It was running out of the bathroom. The leak was apparently a gush, or something close to one.

Topper’s voice on the intercom next. “We’re done here, Ping.”

Finally. Ping raced back inside. She switched the controls and stabbed at the button as she looked at her list. Hull, done. Clocks, done. The generator was all that stood between them and flight. Ari should not be far from finishing that. The flood had reached the far side of the room. “Two to the bathroom on 6. Three to the Ohoga engine and shut up the damn noise. Two to...” Help Milo or fix an air recycler? If they took a hull breach while in space... “Two to fix an air recycler. Number 1 should be the easiest, I think.”

“Only six of us here, Ping.”

“What? Oh... One to the bathroom.”

“Right you are.”

Ping felt a touch on her shoulder and jumped. Ari, Kafin and Kesi had emerged from the generator. “We’re done in there.”

Ping checked her monitor. Green for the generator. Not just disconnected but fixed. “Great.” The fuel still was still flashing red. She sent the three dwarves down there. Hoodek stepped out of an elevator and into a puddle of water. He looked at Ping, raised his eyebrows and followed the trail.

Ping was trying to think of what she needed to do next. The ship rattled as it was hit again. Nothing else seemed to break.

“Scree,” she said into the microphone, once she found the right setting. “Scree, let’s get out of here.”

There was no reply, but the Gravitic field generators started to hum and vibrate. Then there was a moment when Ping’s weight doubled. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Her head spun and she thought she’d throw up. Then the ship adjusted the internal gravity to counteract the powerful lift-off. If there was one thing you could predict about Scree, he’d be decisive.

The lessening of the weight coincided with the silencing of the faulty Ohoga engine. Ping breathed a sigh of relief as she climbed back to her feet. The engine still wasn’t fixed though, and it wasn’t disconnected.

Ping could feel the ship changing direction. Power readouts fluctuated as weapons fired. She tried not to think about what was happening outside.

“Are we ready to jump?” Bargle asked from upstairs.

Ping almost fell over herself in her rush to get to the microphone. “No. Definitely no.” Keeble had said the Ohoga Gates were made of sound or by sound or... something. If that was true then who knew how out of tune the engines were at the moment?

As Ping scanned the computer, looking for further signs of trouble, the ship shook again. She immediately knew this was different to every other time. This had been an internal explosion. With a quick glance to make sure the only other problems remaining on her screen were minor ones, she hurried down stairs to the fuel still.

Smoke and steam billowed out the door. Kafin was lying on the floor in the hallway with blood streaming from a cut on his head.

“Kafin, what happened?” But she didn’t wait to for an answer, rushing forward to look herself. Amy McCree, Brick and Milo were wreathed in smoke. The humans were struggling to lift a pipe while Milo waited to pull someone from underneath. Ping thought the gravity was messing up again—her knees felt weak and her stomach turned. After a moment, during which she clung to the door and tried to calm her racing heart, she skirted past where Milo was pulling Ari free from the rubble. She found the intercom.

“Scree we need some trolls down here now. 7 west.” She went further in, back against the wall, edging past a still glowing heater. She emerged into an open space and discovered Captain Thorpe, shirtless, on his hands and knees. For a moment she thought he was injured, but Paul Manning, his SAS colleague, was lying before him.

The captain looked up. “He’s losing a lot of blood. We need to get him up to medical.”

Ping nodded, as she watched the pool of blood spreading across the floor like the water had spread across the floor earlier. Thorpe worked to stem the flow—most of it seemed to be coming from his leg. Ping removed her shirt and gave it to him.

“Trolls are coming to help,” she said eventually. She tried to hide her underwear but Captain Thorpe hadn’t even noticed. “When they get here, you go to medical and take charge there.”

He nodded but said, “We can’t get out of here. You’re the only person who can fit through that gap.”

“The trolls will get us out.”

He nodded again and turned back to his patient. “Airman Dongoske is over there.” He indicated with a momentary turn of his head. “He’s...”

“Yo, Ping?”

“Stone?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s injured people in here but we can’t get the out through the gap.”

“We’re on it.”

Ping moved slowly across to Dongoske. He was half under the rubble. He had his own pool of blood. His eyes stared blankly.

“Where’s Kesi?”

Thorpe shrugged without turning around. “She was further in.”

Further in? Ping couldn’t go further. Part of the roof had fallen in. A huge tank was leaking gas. Pipes and machinery everywhere. She laid down on her stomach and tried to look around the twists and turns of the obstructions.

“Kesi? Can you hear me? Kesi?”

There was no reply. Ping took a deep breath, wiped at her eyes with shaking fingers and turned back to help Captain Thorpe.

36: Not Dead Yet

Meledrin tried to block out the sound of the screaming Ohoga engine, but it was impossible. She needed to think.

“Cliff, who is attacking us?” It was a sensible question that should have been asked some time ago.

“Not sure, but they’s in space.”

“They are in space? Are they deliberately targeting us, do you think?”

The troll shrugged. “Think so. Hard to tell though.” He checked a read-out. “Shields stopping a lot of the attacks but power’s dropping.”

“Should we take off, even without the—”

“Hakahei?” A voice erupted from the external radio. “Can Hakahei hear? Mother Yuwi of the P’targa, with kil’ini Unias’a’ta speaks?”

“Yes, Yuwi. This is Meledrin of the Hakahei.”

“Meledrin, Hakahei should leave. The P’targa were waiting for confirmation of legal delicacies but that will not be happening now. The T’loop have attacked our compound and kil’ini.”

“Meledrin thanks Yuwi. The Hakahei is having difficulties, but will fly as soon as possible.”

“Swift journey, Hakahei. Grandmother Donni has been sent an ans’ini message and awaits you on Lapenti.”

The signal cut out and Meledrin looked up at the captain’s chair. They would not be going anywhere without a driver. The noise from the Ohoga engine was still echoing around the ship making it difficult to think.

The trolls had experience driving the small vehicles on board the ship. Perhaps one of them could do the job. Or some of the human soldiers—their race had been made for the task, after all.

“Captain Thorpe,” Ping said over the intercom, “take your men to Level 7 west. Captain Thorpe and troop to 7 west. And quick.”

Meledrin sighed. There went the best of her options. She looked around the bridge. Only one option there, really, and he was as good as any other. If nothing else he had seen the schematics of the console and would know what a lot of the buttons did.

“Bargle.”

“Yes?”

She pointed to the pilot’s seat. “You have seen Kim flying?”

The dwarf swallowed and nodded. “Sort of.”

“You know the basics?”

He nodded again.

“Good. You had better get ready then.”

“But...”

“I shall help where I can.”

For a moment it looked as if he would not move, then he was on his feet and racing up the stairs. He sat down on the edge of the seat and tried to get his bearings. Meledrin watched as he went about the task like a dwarf, starting at one side of the console and working his way across, looking at each control, probably cataloguing its use in his mind.

For a moment he chewed on his bottom lip, hands poised before the controls. He mumbled under his breath. Then he spun the steering ball and readied himself again. The wait seemed to last forever.

“Scree,” Ping shouted over the intercom. “Scree, let’s get out of here.”

Meledrin nodded to Bargle and the dwarf took a deep breath. He turned on the engines then waited a moment before pushing the lever to thrust them skywards. Meledrin grunted as she was crushed back against the seat. Then the ship’s systems adjusted and she was simply out of breath.

“Sorry about that,” Bargle said, a surprised look on his face. At that moment the blaring noise of the Ohoga engine disappeared—the dwarf shouted into the silence. “Not quite used to the controls.”

“That is quite all right, Bargle,” Meledrin replied quietly. “I did not wish to remain there any longer than was necessary.”

The dwarf nodded and smiled nervously.

The relative quite made Meledrin feel decidedly more confident. It made her feel as if she were in control again, which she doubted was actually true. “Perhaps you should watch where you are going, Bargle.”

“Oh.” He turned to look out the window.

But Meledrin looked up and all she could see was cloud beyond the blue glow of the shields. When they burst through into the clear a minute later, it seemed as if the sky was full of kil’ini. They were fighting against each other. There, one of the huge creatures was wallowing amidst a dozen of its smaller brethren, panicking apparently. Its eyestalks twisted this way and that as it tried to see all directions at once. It thrashed about with its tentacles and spat its missiles but there were too many against it. It did not stand a chance. Elsewhere two behemoths circled each other. Meledrin could not work out exactly what they were waiting for. And there, three grappled tentacle-to-tentacle, wrestling and spitting all at once.

There were thousands of the creatures and Meledrin knew of no way of identifying who was fighting for whom. There were a hundred radio conversations taking place all at once. She scanned frequencies.

Outside, three kil’ini simultaneously turned and spat projectiles at the Hakahei. The trolls had targets. Four in the weapons chairs down stairs and Cliff on the bridge all started firing in the same moment.

Mother Yuwi of the P’targa came back on the radio. “The kil’ini firing at Hakahei have a contract with the A’nopo family, which has a contract with the T’loop.” Four smaller kil’ini broke away from another battle to intercept.

Another hurgon joined the conversation. Meledrin knew enough to hear the mix of fear and anger in the voice. “The P’targa are allowing prisoners to escape.”

Yuwi was unperturbed. “The hakans were not registered as prisoners.”

“Do you think the councils will care when they discover what has happened?”

“Do you think,” Yuwi retorted, “that the council will care about the prisoners when they learn that the T’loop invaded the P’targa compound?”

“The councils will—”

“Will decide for themselves. The Lesser Council has been called to session. There are many things to discuss, including the breaking of the War Contract.”

“Where am I going?” Bargle asked quietly, dividing his glance between the controls and the view outside. The three T’loop kil’ini were still firing at the Hakahei, but were being harassed by the smaller creatures.

“Find the spot where the hurgon are thinnest and go,” Meledrin said. But where were they going after that?

“Okay.” Bargle spun the steering ball slightly and then a bit more, heading towards a pair of lifeless, floating kil’ini. He increased the thrust.

“Batteries at full charge,” Dogar said.

“The Lesser Council will never agree to the breaking of the War Contract.”

“The T’loop mother misunderstands. The P’targa and other minor families contend that the contract has been broken by the eight principles many years ago.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“Then the T’loop have nothing to fear.”

Meledrin had heard enough. She wanted to get away from the fighting and bickering. The hurgon would obviously sort things out amongst themselves but it would not be a speedy process. And since it was impossible to tell who was on which side, the Hakahei could offer only minimal assistance.

“Tuki?”

“Yes?”

“You have the co-ordinates supplied by the P’targa?”

“Yes, Meledrin.”

“Then please tell Bargle which direction we wish to travel.”

“Meledrin?”

“Yes?”

“It can be done automatically. If I put the co-ordinates into my computer and then press this button...”

Meledrin raised her eyebrows, remembering all the time Kim had spent trying to point them in the right direction before jumping. “Very well, proceed.”

“Meledrin?”

She sighed. “Yes Tuki.”

“We should check with Ping before we do anything with the ohoga engines.”

Meledrin nodded, pleased that someone had thought to suggest it. Bargle, relieved of any duties while Tuki worked on the co-ordinates, took it upon himself to do the checking.

“Are we ready to jump?” he asked into the microphone.

There was a moment before the reply. “No. Definitely no.”

“We aren’t ready,” Bargle said to Meledrin, who had heard perfectly well.

There was a beep from Tuki’s console and Meledrin felt the ship’s thrust change subtly.

“Alignment in five minutes,” Tuki said.

“Thank you, Tuki.”

While she waited Meledrin brought up different views of Hulgorn and the battle that raged around it. She scanned the radio frequencies. Another hurgon voice came from the radio.

“Hakan vessel, this is Buni, of the great T’loop family. Buni orders the Hakahei to return to the planet. The hakans will not be harmed.”

Meledrin sniffed and pressed the transmit button. “It has already been proven that the T’loop family cannot be trusted. The Hakahei will not make the same mistake twice.”

“No deal was brokered.”

“We had a verbal agreement.”

“Verbal agreements mean nothing.”

“Then a verbal agreement means nothing now as well. Buni of the T’loop should think before speaking. Besides, Cuto of the T’loop does not agree with Buni. Cuto helped the Hakahei’s grandmother and mother escape because when the T’loop broke the verbal agreement the T’loop also broke Cuto’s heart.”

“Scree we need some trolls down here now.” Ping said in the midst of the conversation. “Seven west.”

“Cliff,” Meledrin said, hoping the troll was not concentrating on shooting so much that he could not hear. He grunted in reply. “Can you ask Stone to go down and assist Ping. Level 7, on the western side.”

He grunted again and continued firing.

Buni changed tack. “The P’targa family started this war. The P’targa fired on a T’loop kil’ini. The councils will not stand for it.”

“Buni, the legalities of the situation are being discussed on another frequency. Buni will not convince Meledrin to stop, so perhaps Buni should discuss this matter with Yuwi of the P’targa.” She changed to another frequency.

“Alignment in one minute.”

“We will reach top speed in three minutes,” Barge said.

The Hakahei was still not clear of the confrontation but was being ignored for the most part. A half dozen kil’ini were following, but did not seem keen to come too close—perhaps they were there as protection.

“Aligned. Lapenti is thirty light years. That is one jump of 15 hours and twenty five minutes.”

“Thank you, Tuki. Bargle?”

“Got it. Setting the timer for fifteen hours and twenty five minutes.” The dwarf fiddled with the buttons. “Done. And we have top speed.”

“Very well. Now we shall wait to hear from Ping.”

“Right.”

“The alien is jumping in, Meledrin.”

“Pardon?” She looked around, thinking that one or all of the six hurgon on the Hakahei were storming the bridge.

“The multeese is leaving a jump.”

“Ohhh...” She would have preferred the hurgon. The huge alien ship scared her immensely and she still did not understand how Kim intended to fight against it.

Tuki put the picture up in the dome. The ship was one thousand and seven kilometers away. For once, it did not immediately start firing.

A cold lifeless voice came over the radio, speaking in the hurgon language. “Who would speak?”

There was silence for long seconds. Meledrin was not about to reply and thought no one else was going to either. She rested her hands in her lap, keeping them well away from the transmit button.

“This is Sister Liko of the En’kumo. Liko would speak with you.”

“Very well. Multeese will speak with Liko. Though there is one scuttle cockroach of a vessel that still requires attention.”

The cold, passionless face appeared on all the Hakahei’s screens.

“Still you run,” the voice said in the language of Rongo. “When will you learn that running will do you no good?”

Keeble’s voice came over the internal speaker. “I’m not sure if you want to jump or not,” he said, “but you should be able to now.”

Meledrin adjusted her controls with shaking fingers, glad of any excuse to look away from the screen. “Should be?” she asked Keeble.

“One of the Ohoga engines has been disconnected.” He sounded exhausted.

“Very well.” Meledrin sat back and stared out the window. Keeble had not sounded very confident—which worried her—but the dwarf’s confidence was the least of her worries.

“If you wait but a moment I will kill you now. Otherwise, I can follow where ever you go.” A volley of missiles streaked towards the Hakahei. “Whenever. Wherever. I will find you when my crop is harvested. Go where you will.”

“Forty two missiles,” Cliff said. The trolls were firing all five guns but not meeting with any success. The missiles kept coming. “Impact in eight seconds.”

“Bargle...”

But Bargle had already pressed the button to open the gate. “Prepare to jump,” he said in to the intercom. “We’re about to jump.” He spun the bridge so they could watch the gate racing towards them.

“Impact in three seconds,” Tuki said, wide eyed and staring.

Then the Hakahei was through the gate and the power shut down in the blink of an eye. Darkness.

There was a short, quick barrage against the hull. The ship shook and shuddered.

A whirring quiet. Fans approaching stillness. Motors winding down.

“Five missiles came through with us,” Cliff said softly. “Obviously didn’t work for some reason.”

Meledrin didn’t care. She breathed again and unclenched her fists.

“We should be dead,” Bargle said.

“Maybe they had a mechanical ignition,” Dogar replied.

“I thought we were dead.”

Cliff lit a lantern and a soft, warm light started to spread around the bridge.

Meledrin looked at the faces of her companions. We are not dead yet, she thought and waved her fingers in a ceremony of Beginning.

<<<<<>>>>>

End Part 3

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Tribes of the Hakahei:

Part 4

A Different Kind

Of Heaven

by

Scott J. Robinson

(Copyright 2012)

This book is

dedicated to

Kace

Born June 9, 2012—

the trilogy completed.

Contents

    Prologue

1: All Over

2: Assumptions

3: Silence

4: Changes

5: A Straight Line

6: Whole Armies

7: Before Breakfast

8: Different Paths

9: Taramin’s Blue

10: A Small Group

11: Peripheral Matters

12: Too Far, Too Many

13: Hallways

14: A Risky Plan

15: Forgotten

16: Processing

17: The Front Door

18: A Green Ribbon

19: Left Behind

20: Attack and Defense

21: Impossible to Kill

22: A Third Singer

23: The Other Side

24: Problems

25: A Small Price

26: Visions

27: Different People

28: Battles

29: Time

30: Gas

31: Knowledge

32: Throwing Stones

33: Instinct

34: Into the Mist

35: A Long Way

36: Stupid Things

37: Aliens

38: Honor

39: Multeese

40: One Button

      Epilogue

Prologue

***

A While Ago

Tuki fazed out of the trance, letting it slowly slip away. Sounds and scents, colors and sensations followed one after the other like sand draining through his fingers, but the trailing edges of the vision clung to his consciousness like never before. For a moment, it was hard to separate the here from there, to separate the now from then. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his swirling thoughts. He felt a terrible sense of foreboding. When he opened his eyes, even that was gone, leaving him naked in the heat of the desert with just the memories. He blinked rapidly.

The warm wind touched his dark skin. Sand set it to tingling.

The day had drifted on, farther than he imagined. The shadow in which he sat had pushed its ragged edge several meters closer to the shattered, sand-choked well in the center of the square.

“I have travelled far,” Tuki said to the glass ewer as he took it up in his hand. He knew he should not judge, but he would never have thought that such a plain item, made by humans, would be able to take him so far. When he had first found the ewer, buried beneath the sand in the corner of a desert-drowned house, he had thought it would hold no life within its flawed form. But life it had contained, and what a life!

He wondered what long dead human had possessed enough skill to produce such a wonderful Eye. And he wondered what journey he had made. Obviously it was a journey of many kilometers, for no such hills were in the desert and he had never heard of anything like the strange snaking creature he had seen. But had he also travelled in time? Had he witnessed what was, or what will be? Or had he watched the meteor’s destruction of the silver trail as it happened? And what of the other creatures— the three legged ones and those with the hard, colorful shells who rode the strange bats? There were too many questions to be answered by one young male, alone in the desert.

Yesterday

While she waited, Meledrin brought up different views of Hulgorn and the battle that raged around it. She scanned the radio frequencies. Another hurgon voice came from the radio.

“Hakan vessel, this is Buni, of the great T’loop family. Buni orders the Hakahei to return to the planet. The hakans will not be harmed.”

Meledrin sniffed and pressed the transmit button. “It has already been proven that the T’loop family can not be trusted. The Hakahei will not make the same mistake twice.”

“No deal was brokered.”

“We had a verbal agreement.”

“Verbal agreements mean nothing.”

“Then a verbal agreement means nothing now as well. Buni of the T’loop should think before speaking. Besides, Cuto of the T’loop does not agree with Buni. Cuto helped the Hakahei’s grandmother and mother escape because when the T’loop broke the verbal agreement the T’loop also broke Cuto’s heart.”

“Scree we need some trolls down here now.” Ping said in the midst of the conversation. “Seven west.”

“Cliff,” Meledrin said, hoping the troll was not concentrating on shooting so much that he could not hear. He grunted in reply. “Can you ask Stone to go down and assist Ping? Level 7, on the western side.”

He grunted again and continued firing.

Buni changed tack. “The P’targa family started this war. The P’targa fired on a T’loop kil’ini. The councils will not stand for it.”

“Buni, the legalities of the situation are being discussed on another frequency. Buni will not convince Meledrin to stop, so perhaps Buni should discuss this matter with Yuwi of the P’targa.” She changed to another frequency.

“Alignment in one minute.”

“We will reach top speed in three minutes,” Barge said.

The Hakahei was still not clear of the confrontation but was being ignored for the most part. A half dozen kil’ini were following, but did not seem keen to come too close— perhaps they were there as protection.

“Aligned. Lapenti is thirty light years. That is one jump of 15 hours and twenty five minutes.”

“Thank you, Tuki. Bargle.”

“Got it. Setting the timer for fifteen hours and twenty five minutes.” The dwarf fiddled with the buttons. “Done. And we have top speed.”

“Very well. Now we shall wait to hear from Ping.”

“Right.”

“The alien is jumping in, Meledrin.”

“Pardon?” She looked around, thinking that one or all of the six hurgon on the Hakahei were storming the bridge.

“The multeese is leaving a jump.”

“Ohhh...” She would have preferred the hurgon.

1: All over

Scree looked up when the lights went out. There was a clatter of noise against the hull. “What’s going on nows?”

But it was obvious enough— they’d gone through to the universe the ship used when travelling interstellar distances. No advanced machinery worked here, so the lights didn’t work and the best their enemies could do was throw rocks at them. Scree grunted. Rocks wouldn’t have been surprising, seeing they’d put up with just about everything else.

And he still didn’t know if it was worth it. Keeble had organized the contracts they needed to end the war with the hurgon, but if they couldn’t get the last signature then it was all for nothing. They’d be back at the start, fighting two enemies they couldn’t hope to beat. The hurgon would overwhelm them, eventually, with their endless hordes of living ships. And the single multeese ship would blow them into oblivion with technology.

Scree didn’t even know who’d been throwing the most recent rocks, or the missiles that had come before, but he decided everyone on the Hakahei was probably lucky to be alive.

He turned to look back at Kim. She was only just visible in the murky half-light the universe offered. Long, dark hair framed her pale, slack face. Her skin was cold. She was breathing steadily but hadn’t even stirred since passing out in the hurgon torture chamber. Some were luckier than others.

A moment later, Captain Dominic Thorpe stormed into the room carrying a lantern. The human hung the light on a hook in the center of the ceiling and threw his red SAS beret onto the bench. He started going through drawers and cupboards. The swinging lantern threw wild, dancing shadows on the walls, the furniture, stretched them all the way out the door. The squeaking of the handle quickly got on Scree’s nerves but he didn’t move, in case he broke the spell of studied concentration on the other man’s face. Thorpe grabbed all sorts of things and put them on a small, wheeled table.

There was a commotion at the door. Trolls and humans were crowding outside. ‘Brick’ Dunning, an American Air Force Raven almost as big as a troll, was closest.

“Who have you got, Brick?” Thorpe asked.

“We’ve got Kafin, sir.” Brick’s dark face was splashed with light for a moment as the lantern continue to swing. A long smear of grease marked his cheek.

“Head wound, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Put him there.” He pointed to the bed beside Kim’s, right near where Scree was sitting. It seemed Thorpe noticed Scree for the first time. He stared for a moment before going back to work.

Brick and Chip put Kafin on the bed. Blood poured from a gash across the dwarf’s forehead and there was a lump the size of half a peach.

Talus and Stone brought in Paul Manning next. His left leg was a bloody pulp from the knee down. They laid the human on the main bed near the back of the medical bay. Crystal was with them, carrying the mangled, barely attached limb in one hand and a pair of pliers held close to the bloody knee in the other. All of them— patient and bearers— were covered in blood.

When the others cleared out, Crystal started to go with them.

“Not you, Crystal,” Thorpe said sharply. “You stay there and keep hold of those pliers.”

The trollop swallowed and nodded. Scree knew how she felt. Trolls knew better than anyone that death could be gruesome and bloody, but apparently life could be worse.

Ari was brought in next. There was only one bed left so she was put there. Her arm was swollen and bruised, obviously broken. She was hurting but she’d live. The other two probably wouldn’t.

“What you gots there?” Scree asked Crystal, motioning to the pliers.

The trollop didn’t even look up.

“What you gots there?” Scree asked again.

“Got got an artery,” she replied eventually.

Scree grunted. “What happened?”

Thorpe answered. “What do you care?” He finished collecting his tools and wheeled the table over to Manning’s side. “If you’re just going to sit there, you do it and shut up.”

Scree surged to his feet. He stared at Thorpe but the human didn’t seem to notice. “I could kills you for that,” Scree said. “I’m in charge on this ships while Kim’s injured.”

Thorpe spared him a glance. “Yeah, you could kill me, but you aren’t in charge.” He turned back to examine what was left of his countryman’s leg. “We have to seal the artery,” he said to Crystal. “I’m going to tie a bit of string around it. You just have to hold on until I’m done.”

Crystal nodded. “All right right.”

“What you means I ain’t in charge?” Scree clenched his teeth, holding back more words. It was like he was a real troll again, like he’d been before he’d met Kim and his other strange, new companions.

“The hurgon were attacking from the ground and from space. Meledrin took charge on the bridge to get us off Hulgorn.” Thorpe worked at Manning’s leg while he talked. “We were seriously damaged. Keeble and Ping kept the workers from panicking. They got everything going enough for Meledrin to do her job, though, as you see, it wasn’t easy.”

The knot was tied. Crystal let go with the pliers and set the bloody tool down.

Blood was still seeping out of the leg but it was controllable. The knot was hidden in the pulp.

“Brick?”

“Sir,” the American called from the hall.

“O-neg?”

“Not me, sir. I’ll check with the others.”

“Good.” Thorpe rattled around on the little table. “Kesi’s dead, Scree. At least we think she is. We haven’t actually found her yet. Sandy? Now, Sandy’s definitely dead.”

Scree knew that. When Keeble and his party first came back to the ship with the contracts and the hurgon lawyers, Scree had listened to the other trolls talking in his head. They needed to take the damn things to another planet to get the final signature they needed.

Thorpe bent forward and poked in amongst the ruins of the leg. “Crystal, take his leg.” He picked up a little knife and went in again. “Right, now twist a little bit.”

The trollop did what she was asked, but didn’t look happy about it. Scree agreed. It was strange doing that to save someone.

“Stop. Hold it there.” Thorpe carefully cut something away. “And some more. Whoa.” He cut again then stood up straight. “Okay, twist a bit more.”

Crystal twisted the mangled bone. “It’s tough tough,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s okay, just twist.”

She did and there was a loud crack.

“Pull it out.”

Scree watched as she pulled the shinbone and bloody flesh away.

“Right, now we’re going to take these bits of skin and sew them over the end of the leg. Are you ready?”

“Umm... Yeah.”

“Good.”

She didn’t look ready.

“Sandy died on Hulgorn, when Keeble was trying to return to the ship,” Thorpe continued as he cut away hanging flesh to get some more spare skin. “Keeble isn’t a soldier, Scree. He’s just a young man, barely in his twenties. I imagine he’s taking the loss of someone under his command pretty badly.”

Scree grunted but wasn’t sure what to say.

“He’s out there working. He’s doing his job. And who’s doing your job while you sit in here and sulk?”

“I ain’t sulking.”

“Pining then— I don’t give a shit what you call it. Meanwhile, who’s doing your job? Meledrin’s in overall charge and doing better than I would have expected. Bargle was driving— that’s a scary thought as well, but he did well by all accounts. We aren’t dead, after all. Everyone else— elves, trolls, dwarves, even the moai— is working under Keeble and Ping to get the ship working again.”

“Sir?”

“Amy? Yes?”

The American Marine was in the doorway. “O-negative, sir.” He red hair was dirty and singed. She had a cut on her cheek.

“Excellent.” Thorpe pointed to a seat in the corner. “Bags in the locker above, I think. Can you do it yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Scree watched as the woman took a soft, clear bag down from the cupboard and found a hook for it on the wall. She tied a strap around her arm, pumped her hand a couple of times, and stuck a needle into a vein. Blood flowed into the bag. Scree saw Ari watching as well. Her arm looked terrible, but she didn’t complain.

Thorpe was sewing strips of skin together, covering the stump of Manning’s leg.

“One liter, Sir.”

“Thanks, Amy.”

“You want more?”

“Of course, but not from you. What about Tim? He’s your brother.”

“Already here, Dominic.” Scree watched as the American sergeant strode into the room, already rolling up his sleeve. He was shorter than his sister, with a round face and crooked teeth.

“When you’re done there, Amy, can you look at Ari’s arm?”

“Sure.”

Scree swallowed. He’d always laughed at human soldiers with all their orders and training. Why couldn’t they just go and fight? But these ones moved calmly and surely, doing what they could and not giving up on anyone— including the living.

2: Assumptions

Scree pointed to Kafin. The dwarf hadn’t moved since he’d been put there. “I’d looks at him first,” he said. “That lump on his head don’t look goods.”

Thorpe looked at Scree for a moment, then across at the dwarf. “See what you can see, Amy. There has to be some type of scanning equipment in here.”

“Won’t work.”

“What? Oh, damn.” He looked over his shoulder at the lantern, then continued sewing. “Okay, give me a minute.”

When they got out the hand drill, Scree had to leave. There were three trolls stationed around the outer, circular passage to keep watch, though what they’d do if they saw anything was anyone’s guess.

“Where is everyone?” Scree asked Bones.

“All over. Here and there. Everywhere. Ping has some working on the clock. Something wrong with it. Too much tick and not enough tock maybe. Keeble’s fixing a hole on Level 4. Level 4? Level 5? Yeah, I think it’s level 4. Most of the rest are on Level 7 trying to clear the still. Went bang. Crap everywhere. Probably a hole in the wall there too.”

“Right.” Scree left before Bones could say anything else. In the semi-darkness, he took the stairs two at a time down to Level 7.

The hallway outside the fuel-still was full of wreckage. People were passing it out the door and piling it against the walls. Meledrin was there, tall and slim, and fidgeting like never before. Her copper colored hair was all over the place. The elf wasn’t helping with the moving but stood watching as if every piece of broken machinery and every piece of twisted metal was her responsibility.

“What’s going on?” Scree asked.

Meledrin turned to look. She stared for a moment and smoothed unconsciously at her hair. “We are attempting to reach Kesi.”

“Is she dead?” A couple of the workers stop to look at him as if he’d broken a rule about asking that question.

Meledrin shrugged and waved her fingers in one of her small ceremonies. The lamp in the corner threw shadows of her dancing fingers onto the wall. “We are unable to ascertain with any certainty. We are not willing to make any assumptions, just in case.”

“What you wants me to do?”

“There is insufficient room for more people in the still.”

“Dwarves needed somewhere else?”

Meledrin nodded. “Perhaps. Topper?”

The dwarf stuck his head out of the room. “What?” His face was covered in soot and grease and there was a scrape on the side of his neck. The plaits in his long, sandy beard were unraveling. Weariness had settled on his shoulders as if he was trying to hold up a wall.

“Scree can assist in there if you wish to make use of dwarves elsewhere.”

Topper looked at Scree with an expression the troll was starting to hate. It said exactly the same thing as Thorpe’s ‘What do you care?’ from earlier. The dwarf tugged on his beard and killed off another plait. He looked at the leather thong in his hand for a moment, sighed, and put it in a pocket. “I’ll send someone to help Mintar and Dosa with the air recyclers.” He looked at the dwarves working outside. “Hoodek, Tess.”

The two dwarves nodded and moved. They looked half defeated as well.

“You want me to pile stuff?” Scree asked.

Topper shook his head. “We need the muscle in here.”

* * *

Scree was still there when most of the others had gone. There was only Topper and a couple of other dwarves left, trying to work out what needed to be done to get the still working again. They stood in the hall surveying the clutter.

Kesi’s body had been carried away.

“Can I helps?” Scree asked. He’d worked for more than two hours and had forgotten about Kim and the world in general. He had forgotten about everything except the next piece of wreckage.

“I don’t think so,” Topper said, shaking his head slowly, still lost in thought. “Thanks for the help you did give though.”

Scree grunted. “Weren’t much help before that.”

The dwarf shrugged. “We were all pissed off at you but I can kinda understand what was going on.” He looked at the other dwarves for a moment. “This isn’t vital,” he said. “Why don’t we have a break and get back to it later.”

Makar, Dogar and Milo nodded and turned to walk slowly towards the stairs. Scree started to follow but Topper didn’t move.

“You’re friends with Ping, aren’t you Scree?”

Scree thought about that as he went back to the dwarf. He and Ping had gotten along for the most part but he wasn’t sure that ‘friends’ was the right word. “Yeah, I suppose. Maybes.”

“Do you know..?” He started to wander along a passage towards the back of the ship, absently working to tidy the plaits in his beard. Scree followed. “Well, in Tab Cavern if a dwife was living in the Hotel or the Maiden Bunker, you told her to move into your bunker and that was that. But with Ping I just don’t know.”

Scree laughed and Topper looked offended.

“It isn’t funny,” he said. “If you’re just going to laugh—”

Scree held up his hand, still laughing. “It ain’t funny, Topper. What’s funny is that you thinks I can help. It wasn’t exactly the same for me, but close enough.” Scree had never really asked for anything in his life.

They stopped where the passage opened out near a door to a storeroom. Scree looked down at the young dwarf. Topper was being honest, opening himself up. Apparently, that was what friends did. Scree looked around. There was nobody else there. He cleared his throat. “If anything,” he said, “I shoulds be the one asking for advice.”

It was Topper’s turn to laugh. “But Kim likes you. Everyone knows that.”

“Could’ve told me.” But maybe it was obvious. Maybe he’d known all along. So why didn’t he do something? Because if he didn’t act then he couldn’t fail... Because if he didn’t act then he wouldn’t stop being a troll and become just another man...

Was there anything wrong with being a man? Keeble, Thorpe and Suldon were all men of different kinds. Were they so bad? Scree liked all of them, in one way or another. He respected them.

“You never look like you need any advice, Scree.”

“Always do, Topper. Just don’t know it most of the time.” He smiled. “And Ping? I think she likes you too.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. But...” Scree knew all too well why Ping might not trust men. He cleared his throat. “It mightn’t be easy for her.”

“Oh?”

“I reckon you should just take it slow. Hang around and be a nice guy. Make sure she knows what you want— and it better be more than sex or I’ll rip your head off.” He smiled as he said it, but he thought he might be serious. The look on Topper’s face suggested he was thinking the same thing. “And then waits and see.”

“Hello?” Inaki’s voice echoed down the passage. “Is anyone down here?”

Scree looked at Topper and nodded. “Yo, Inaki-boy. We’s here.”

The moai poked his head around the corner. He was bigger than a troll but like Tuki, the other moai, was shy and quiet. When he’d first come aboard the Hakahei he wouldn’t speak unless asked a question and almost blushed at the sight of a woman. “Everyone must come to the garden,” he said quietly.

“Who says?”

“Tuki.”

“Right then,” Scree nodded.

Inaki disappeared, probably off to search for more people, and Scree looked at his companion. “You know what this is abouts?”

Topper nodded. “Come on.”

Just about everyone was in the garden, a dozen lamps leached the color from their faces. Dust hung in the air.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the patients?” Scree asked Thorpe when he saw the soldier amongst the crowd.

“Crystal’s up there. She’ll let us know.”

3: Silence

Scree grunted and turned to look at Tuki. He was standing at the front of the group. “What’re we doing here?” Scree asked.

But Tuki started to speak. “We have lost more friends,” he said. “Ben Dongoske and Kesi.”

The moai was holding two metal plaques and there was another on the wall behind him. Scree tried to read the words but couldn’t.

Tuki continued. “Wherever we go now, there seems to be danger. I lived a safe life before I came on this ship. I woke up each morning and could name those who might die that day— the old and the sick.”

Scree listened to Tuki. The moai was still quiet— the crowd was hushed, leaning forward to hear— and he was still shy, but he was also confident. He studied the plaques in his hand while he spoke, but he said the words as if he expected people to listen. And they did. Trolls and elves, dwarves and humans, they all watched him and listened. Even the hurgon lawyers were there, diving their attention between Tuki and Meledrin. The elf was translating into the ini rituals. The aliens weren’t showing any emotion, but they never did.

“But here...” Tuki said. “Here, we cannot know from one moment to the next what will happen and what friends we will lose. And yet...” He looked up and surveyed the faces. “I know I do not want to go back to my life in Danyon Ford though I know I might be the next to die. I would not exchange one day here for ten years there. Why? Because the people on this ship are my friends and the moai of Danyon Ford are just people I knew.”

Scree examined the crowd as well. Ruby was crying. So were Tess and Bethalin. The elf and dwife were holding hands. Gulch and Flint were nodding their heads. Ping hooked a strand of her bobbed, brown hair behind her ear and bit her lip.

“We lost two more friends today. I wish they hadn’t died but I know why they did. I know why they did, because I can feel in my heart that I would have done the same thing for them.” Tuki held up the first plaque and read the words. “Kesi. A dwarf to the end.”

‘Dwarf’ instead of ‘dwife’. Scree wondered if Tuki had chosen it. The dwarves didn’t seem to mind, either way.

Tuki squeezed glue onto the back of the brass plaque and carefully stuck it to the wall near the one that was already there for Sandy. Then he held up the next one. “Airman Ben Dongoske. United States Air Force. Above and beyond.” That one was stuck to the wall as well.

After that, Scree listened as different people talked about those who’d died. They said good things. Scree smiled when Brick told the story about the scar on Dongoske’s chest. And he was surprised when Keeble stepped forward and said that Kesi had lost a baby and had taken orphans into her home ever since.

When it appeared nobody else was going to say anything, Scree strode to the front of the group.

“Kesi and Ben both had good stories from before they came on this ship. I don’t. I got bad stories. Nobody wants to hear them and Ping already knows too much.” He saw the little woman shift nervously but ploughed on. “I never even understood what friends was for before I came here. But now... I’ve been born agains like somebody from one of Ben’s religious stories— re-incarnated.

“The best things I can say about Kesi and Ben? All you people, from all different places, is willing to stand and hear stories about them and remember them. If I ever gets my name up on that wall,” Scree said, pointing over his shoulder, “my best story will be if all you people is standing here thinking it was good to have known me too.”

Scree wasn’t sure if he was saying what he was supposed to be saying. It sounded like he was talking about himself, but he wasn’t. “Their best stories are about having earned your respect and friendship,” he added, hoping that was clearer. He shook his head and walked away from the wall. They all watched and he didn’t know what they were thinking. But he looked at Ping and she turned away, tears running down her olive skinned face.

* * *

Ping fumbled for her lamp in the dark. When the light came it was blinding for three seconds and she blinked away tears. She turned to the clock beside her bed, but of course it wasn’t working and she had lost track of the time. They were somewhere in the middle of the jump. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and stretched. She felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

After pulling on her EVA suit and clothes, Ping went out into the hall then started up the stairs. She stopped on Level 3 to find some food.

There was a box of silver packets on a bench that offered dried fruit. The drink dispenser didn’t work without power but a tap on the side gave her a cup of cool, flavored water. She took her breakfast and sat at one of the tables. There was nobody else there, which was unusual. Even if they weren’t eating there were usually people there playing games or just chatting. Ping ate in silence.

When she was done Ping returned to the stairs and wondered where she would find some company. The elves, plus Hoodek, Makar and Dido who had, much to their embarrassment, taken a liking to gardening, would probably be in the gardens. Most of the dwarves would be in the workshop. The others... Ping didn’t know. She decided to see who was on Level 2.

But she discovered that her guesses had been wrong. Almost everyone was on the habitation level. Meledrin and Chasm were sitting on the floor to the left of the stairs. It appeared as if the elf was trying to explain a poem to the troll and not having much luck.

“Allusion and metaphor are vying with each other in this stanza,” the elf said.

“Chasm doesn’t understand.” The trollop shook her head. But she kept looking at the page, not giving in. “If they’re vying with each other, Chasm just wishes one would deal a killing blow so there was only one riddle to solve.”

Other small groups were spread around the main room, but the largest group was preparing to play some sort of game.

“What’s going on?” Ping asked Meledrin.

Meledrin looked up from the book. “Captain Thorpe is attempting to explain a game he calls cricket.”

Ping looked out at the game and tried to work out what was happening. As if reading her mind, Meledrin spoke again.

“I fail to see the point. The game that Keeble likes... Rugby? I can see the point of that, even if the rules escape me, but this one...” She shrugged her thin shoulders.

From the conversations going on amongst the players, Ping didn’t think many of them got the point either. Even the Americans seemed to be at a loss.

“Who is watching Captain Thorpe’s patients?” Ping asked.

“Scree.”

“Oh. Is that..?”

Out on the field, Ruby shook her head in disbelief. “One game takes five days?” she asked.

“They can do,” Thorpe replied. “But they can last one day as well.”

“So you don’t even know how long it’ll take to play?”

“Well...”

Ruby shook her head again. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand this game.”

Brick laughed. “Americans have been trying to understand it for a hundred years and still haven’t had any luck.”

“Let me know when you start playing that game Keeble keeps talking about. The one with the stomping and the thumping.” Ruby waved away Thorpe’s protests and walked past Ping with a smile of greeting. Ping was surprised when the trollop went straight to Tuki’s cabin. She looked at Meledrin and Chasm. She looked at Amy and Tasko who were talking nearby. None of them seemed to notice Ruby’s destination. Or if they did, they paid it no mind. Ping hated living on Level 6— it was close to the Engineering bay if there was an emergency, but there wasn’t often an emergency so all it did was separate those living there from the rest of the crew.

“Hello, Ping.”

“Hi, Topper.”

“Come to play cricket, have you?”

Ping laughed. “No, I don’t think so. I was just going to sit and watch.”

“Oh.”

“You can sit with me and tell me the rules though, so I know what I’m looking at.”

4: Changes

Ping sat down and leaned against the wall and Topper sat by her side. She hardly took any notice of his explanation of the rules and hardly saw the game, though she stared out at the players.

“How long to go in this jump?” she asked when the dwarf was done.

Topper shrugged. “About four hours, I think.”

Ping sighed.

“You’re bored?”

“A little. But in a good way. There are lots of things I could do if I wanted, but I just want to sit and complain and feel sorry for myself at the moment.”

“Oh.” He tapped the toes of his boots together and combed his fingers through his chin-beard. “What did Scree mean when he said you knew more of his stories than you wanted to know?”

Ping wasn’t going to talk about that. “I just knew him before everyone else did. I saw him do some horrible things.” But most of the things were not really horrible at all. There was just that once, but Ping had survived... “What happened to Kim?”

“Pardon?”

“What happened to Kim?”

Topper narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, as if trying to guess the link. “She was tortured by the hurgon.”

Ping turned to look at Cuto. The T’loop was standing in a corner by himself, watching the cricket. “And Cuto rescued them?”

“Yeah, but only just. There are burn marks on Kim’s legs and an injury on her wrist. Plus she had a few broken bones.”

“Burn marks?”

“Yes.”

Ping chewed on her thumbnail. Perhaps Scree had not had anything to do with Kim’s current condition— he would not bother to burn her, after all. Perhaps he had meant those words he said in the garden.

“How come the dwarves were able to change so quickly?” Ping asked Topper.

“Change what?”

“Their views on women.”

“Oh. I don’t know. Perhaps we’re too practical to argue with what’s obvious. Some of the older dwarves still aren’t completely comfortable with the idea, but they’ve seen the way the dwives worked.”

Ping nodded.

“And you and Kim helped too. It’s hard to say women are useless when the two of you are shouting the right orders as quick as any dwarf could and doing the right things.” Topper tapped the toes of his boots together again, staring at them.

Ping sighed and rose to her feet again. “I think I am going to go downstairs.”

“Oh. Do you want to play chess? Or something?”

“No. Thanks anyway. I think I’ll just read for a while.” She went through the hatch and down the stairs without looking back.

On Level 3, she headed for the library. The journey took her near the gym and the medical bay. Before she went in, she took a moment to look in at the patients lying on the beds. She stopped and leaned against the doorframe.

Kafin had bandages wrapped around his head. Paul’s half-leg was swathed in bandages. Kim was on a third bed. Her wrist was bandaged, her foot was in a cast. Any other injuries were covered by her blanket or hidden in her mind. Scree was sitting by her side, hunched forward, quiet.

The troll glanced up at the other patients, looking at each of them in turn. He saw Ping.

Ping could remember a time when she could not have walked down the stairs unnoticed. Now she could stand in the doorway.

Scree stared at her, none of the usual intensity in his eyes, until Ping turned and hurried the rest of the way to the library. She didn’t know if reading would be enough to get her through the next four hours, but she needed something.

* * *

Meledrin breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the threats made by the multeese, there was nothing there to greet the Hakahei when they returned to the normal universe, just the blackness of space and the sharp pinpricks of the stars. Meledrin looked away from the window and examined her console, but there was nothing she could do— computers and systems had to restart, they had to realign themselves with their new reality. While that happened, Tuki and Keeble were the only ones performing any tasks, working with the scant information they were offered as the ship’s momentum slowly recharged the batteries.

“All systems coming online in twenty seconds,” Keeble said. “Everything seems to be fine, besides the bits that we know aren’t. The repairs to Air Recycler 1 seem to have done the job. The hull repair on Level 4 is fine.”

Meledrin waved her arms in the ini rituals for the benefit of Cuto and the five hurgon lawyers. She did not know if any of them cared what was being said, but if nothing else the translations might help the hakans learn.

“We are near Lapenti,” Tuki said after a moment. “It looks like we have a few hours of travel before we get there.”

Meledrin saw Scree nodded from his place in the weapons chair, but did not seem to be paying any attention. Perhaps he was saving his energy for something he could actually affect. “That the planet there, Tuki?” he asked.

It was obvious what he was talking about. There was a brown disk, barely the size of a pea, visible through the view port.

Tuki nodded.

“Good. Bargle?”

Bargle had tried to get Scree to take over the driving duties. Meledrin had been surprised when the troll refused. So now, Bargle sat in the seat, tugging his beard and studying the controls as if he had never previously seen them. But Scree trusted him to do the job and a newfound confidence was showing.

“Yes, Scree?”

“Take us to the planet.”

“We don’t have—”

“Yeah, I knows. As soon as we have power.”

“Right. Of course.”

The power returned just a moment later and Bargle pushed the button that brought the Gravitic field generators to life. After checking to make sure the steering ball was pointing in the right direction, he hit the thrust.

“One Ohoga engine and one clock still not working,” Keeble continued with his report when the information came up. “The fuel still is not even registering. And nobody has bothered to fix the drink dispenser in the mess hall.”

“At full speed it will take us approximately eight hours,” Tuki said.

Meledrin sighed. After all the time spent in the other universe, she always though the journey on the far side felt like some kind of torture.

“Full charge in one hour at this speed.” Keeble said.

Meledrin looked at those around her. Ping was working silently with Keeble checking the various systems to see what was functional and what was not, perhaps trying to work out what needed to be repaired first.

Tuki was working quietly as well. Once, it had almost seemed that he hesitated before even taking a breath, wondering if a woman would inform him that he was doing it incorrectly. At the funeral ceremony, he had shown he was still shy, but his confidence was obvious.

Looking at her companions, Meledrin considered the words the young moai had spoken at the ceremony and decided she agreed with some of it. She would not want to go back to Grovely to live as she once had, though a month ago she would not have though it possible to desire anything else. But she did not think of the people on the ship as her friends. They were more like her family. There were some of them she didn’t really like— and she thought that liking was an important part of friendship— but she would still stand with any or all of these people, and face the wrath of the aliens.

She cleared her throat. “The multeese?” she said. “What actions are we going to take?”

Scree looked at her. “What about them?”

“They were present at Hulgorn. They stated that they were going to kill us.”

“And you think they will?”

She nodded. “I cannot see how it can be otherwise, even if the Americans and all the hurgon assist us.”

Scree was nodding slowly and turned to look out the window again.

Ping joined in. “I agree,” she said. “With the weapons they have, how can we stop them? It might already be too late.”

“Why’s that?”

“Who knows how many people it has killed on the hakan worlds?”

Meledrin swallowed. It was quite possible the alien had killed every person on the seven hakan worlds. If it set its mind to it, it probably would not take long at all. But they did seem to be easily distracted. They flew from world to world, causing death and destruction wherever they went, without ever once completing a task.

“Their technology does make things difficult,” Keeble said in what Meledrin thought was a major understatement. “How do we stop a weapon we don’t understand? How do we beat shields we don’t understand?”

Meledrin didn’t reply— she didn’t have an answer— and Scree continued to stare out the window.

“We need Kim,” Ping said. Scree turned to look in her direction but didn’t say anything before looking away again.

“Forty-five minutes until full power, “ Keeble said quietly.

“Forty-seven,” Ping said softly and Keeble shook his head.

Meledrin checked her radio, as if something she might hear on there would be good news.

5: A Straight Line

Ping looked up at the planet outside. If felt as if she had been staring at it for the last six hours. She was sure a lot of those in the viewing seats had been hadn’t moved since leaving the other universe as well.

“Thirty-seven kil’ini visible,” Tuki said softly. “There could be more around the far side of the world.”

Scree was sitting in the gallery with his feet up on the back of another chair. He scratched his neck with a thumb. “Are they heading towards us?” He could see for himself.

“Some are,” Tuki replied. “But it does not look as if they are attacking.”

Ping watched a dozen kil’ini, each a starship for the hurgon, slowly coming closer. They scanned the region with the huge, stalked eyes, looking for signs of trouble. Tentacles trailed out behind them for hundreds of meters.

“Whose family is they?” Scree asked.

Ping turned to look at the hurgon brothers, present as eve, but they were giving nothing away. Perhaps they were not yet sure themselves.

“I do not know,” Tuki said.

The question had obviously not been for the moai. How was he to know? Each kil’ini was as individual as people but they did not wear the colors of their aligned families as the hurgon did. Ping almost laughed but bit back the sound in case her nervousness came out with the sound and she couldn’t stop. She chewed on her thumbnail instead and watched the kil’ini.

Meledrin had been translating everything that had been said, so the brothers were already discussing the problem, pointing and waving their arms in the ini rituals as if the kil’ini could already see them. From what Ping could tell, only one brother other than Koli of the P’targa had any family at all present in the area.

“Where’s we going?” Scree asked.

Meledrin spoke with the hurgon. “The closest kil’ini is unknown,” she said a minute later, “but the second one is Piti’ma’ningi, with Mother Duti of the P’targa in charge.”

Ping sighed. An ally.

“That blue one?”

“That is correct,” Meledrin replied.

“Well, get them on the radio and tells them we want to talk to the Grandmother.”

“The Grandmother will not be on the kil’ini.”

“I know that but they can tell us how to get to her.”

“Scree—”

“If you’s about to tell me that the hurgon don’t have no men or women just shut up and get on the radio.”

Ping smothered a smile. Meledrin sniffed and got to work.

“Brother Koli can talk from my console,” Tuki said, moving out of the way.

Koli crossed to the console then stood looking until Tuki pointed to the relevant button and hesitantly waved his arms in explanation. The hurgon gave the alien version of a smile then set to work. Meledrin commentated as the conversation progressed.

“It appears as if a message has preceded us. Mother Duti welcomes us and informs us that the main P’targa compound is located around the far side of the world.”

“Can we gets co-ordinates or something?”

“Directions are already being passed on. Hopefully Koli can remember them because I cannot.”

While the conversation between the aliens continued Scree got Bargle to start taking the ship slowly around to the far side of the planet. The dwarf hardly hesitated at all and Ping thought he would find himself with a new job even after Kim had recovered from her injuries.

Ten minutes later Brother Koli pointed to a spot just coming into view on the skyglass and Tuki placed a marker for Bargle to see.

“So do we just fly down there now?” Bargle asked. “Or do we wait for permission or something?”

Nobody replied. It was unlikely even the hurgon would know, unless Mother Duti had passed the information on.

They continued to move slowly.

Ping looked up when Tuki nudged Koli out of the way a minute later. The moai worked for a few seconds, concentrating fiercely as if he still doubted his knowledge of the skyglass. Or as if he wanted to be wrong. “The multeese ship has just arrived,” Tuki said a moment later.

Ping felt her heart skip a beat and turned back to the dome. The alien ship was thousands of kilometers away but there could be no doubt. It filled the view. Bargle quickly spun the bridge so they could see it out the viewport as well.

Stone was still slouching in the weapon’s chair as if there was no problem at all. Ping did not know how he could be so calm. And Scree as well. Even Meledrin seemed to be sitting up straighter but the trolls were just looking at the image as if it were not a concern.

“What should we do, Scree?”

“Gets us down to the planet, Bargle.” The troll swore. At least that was something. “Hopefully the bastard hasn’t noticed us yet.”

Bargle nodded as Ping strapped herself into her chair. The gravity waned momentarily as the Hakahei plunged towards the ground. Soon, the entire ship was shaking. It had never done that when Kim was in charge.

Keeble cleared his throat. “You may want to slow down, Bargle. I’ve got warning lights going off everywhere here.”

Ping watched as Bargle glanced towards the image in the dome. A dozen kil’ini were swarming around the multeese ship, like flies around a donkey. It was terrible to watch the creatures die. Even more so when she thought of all the hurgon who were inside each one.

“Theys distracted at the moment. Should be rights.”

So Bargle slowed the ship, muttering to himself and trying to see everything at once.

“How's we going, Tuki?” Scree asked when they were finally nearing the ground.

Tuki checked his own readouts. “We are safe for now, I think.”

“Goods.” Scree picked at his teeth. “So where’s we going?”

“Follow that valley.” The moai pointed along a long narrow valley that had a sheer escarpment on one side and a long, wooded slope on the other. “That is pointing close to the right direction.”

Bargle turned the ship one way then the other until they were finally heading in the right direction. Then he spun the bridge to face the right way as well.

“How far away are we,” Ping asked.

“We are still more than twenty thousand kilometers from the Grandmother’s location,” Tuki said.

In space that would not take very long at all, but Ping didn’t know how long it would take down near the planet.

When the valley wall started to curve away, Bargle lifted the ship up and kept them going.

A smudge of mountains marched by far to the south, barely visible. The ship crossed an ocean, diving into a storm that whipped up huge waves and sent sheets of rain against the viewport. Then they burst from the other side into bright sunlight. Half an hour later dusk had come and gone leaving a night alive with stars. And finally there were signs of life.

Stone towers surrounded by compounds with buildings squeezed between thick, hulking walls. Farmland stretching away as far as the eye could see. Dozens of machines, most as big as the Hakahei, worked in the darkness, belching out smoke as they moved like advancing armies through the crops. They could not be heard, but Ping could imagine a deafening rumble spreading ever outwards.

Keeble grunted. “They make farms the same way they make cities,” he said.

Ping could only agree.

“Still goods, Tuki?”

Tuki nodded. “We are slightly off course but not much. We can realign when we get a bit closer.”

The farms continued to pass beneath them. Rivers had been straightened out to allow the machines easier access. Roads and railway tracks between compounds ran almost exclusively in straight lines. And everywhere, the machines kept working.

“Ummm...” Keeble said a minute later.

Scree turned to look at him quickly. Ping as well. It didn’t sound good.

“How far is it to the grandmother?”

Tuki checked. “It is not very far. Just over two thousand kilometers.”

Ping examined the lights flashing on one of Keeble’s screens. She worked out what he was going to say before he said it.

“That’s...” He hit some buttons. He stopped, cocked his head to the side and hit some more. “We aren’t going to make it.”

“What?”

Ping wasn’t sure who said it first. Bargle, Scree, or any of a half dozen other people who were on the bridge.

“We don’t have enough fuel.”

Scree’s eyes narrowed. “Thought we had plenty.”

Ping remembered something about that as well.

“We did. Until we started flying around down here.”

“Right.”

6: Whole Armies

Ping didn’t know Scree how could stay so calm again. They needed fuel to find the Grandmother but they also needed fuel to get back into space. Problem after problem and he just stood there and thought. She knew enough to know that Kim’s indecision, her thoughts, would have shown on her face. Not so with the troll.

“So how long we gots?”

Keeble shrugged again. “Half an hour, maybe.”

Scree grunted and examined the image shown by the skyglass. It was all fields now with an occasional compound like an island amidst the sea of grain, “Does we know who owns all this area?”

Brother Koli replied and Meledrin translated. “Koli states that the farms in this region are owned by the En’kumo, who are a highly placed minor family in the employ of the T’loop. They are worked by the P’targa.”

“Right, where’s the closest compound?”

“Slightly to our right,” Tuki said after a moment.

Scree nodded. “And we’ll makes it that far?”

“I think so.”

“Bargle gets onto it then.”

Bargle and Tuki worked together to get them moving in the right direction.

Everyone else waited silently. Scree leaned against the wall, watching out the viewport.

Ping didn’t know if it was a good idea going to one of the compounds— who knew how the hurgon living there would react?— but she wasn’t in charge and didn’t want to be.

They left the fields behind and moved into a barren, dry crumple of hills. The ship’s lights revealed low cliffs with colorful stratum. Splintered rock covered the ground, as if it had fallen from the sky like sleet. Narrow, snaking gullies like veins in a hand. And all the while, Ping wondered if they were ever going to reach the compound. Eventually, after what seemed like half an hour, a soft glow of light came up over the horizon and raced towards them.

The compound was set down in a slight depression with a hundred meters of flat ground on the near side. Bargle gave a sigh of relief and slowed the ship so suddenly that Ping was slammed against her safety belts. Nonetheless they didn’t stop completely until they’d almost reached the walls. A warning buzzer sounded.

“Out of fuel,” Keeble said.

Ping wasn’t sure if Bargle thumped them down onto the ground or if gravity was to blame. Her bones ached. She’d bitten her lip. And a cloud of dust and rock was raining down outside the ship.

There were ten seconds of relative silence.

“Now what, hey?” Gulch asked from the viewing gallery.

Scree scratched his cheek. “How fars to the Grandmother?”

Tuki swallowed noisily. “Two hundred and fifty kilometers in a straight line. There are some mountains in the way.”

It was not far at all, really, if you had a starship to fly there.

“Chasm reckons we could fly there in one of those Landers quick enough,” Chasm said.

Scree nodded but didn’t look sure. “How far they flys, Keeble?”

The dwarf shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think they’re made for that type of thing though.”

Scree nodded again.

Ruby shook her head. “Bit of a target if you ask me. Nothing else like it around here— it’s sure to get someone’s attention sooner or later. At least in this thing we got some protection.”

“Kim still sleepings? Anyone checked recently?” Scree got a far away look and Ping knew he was checking himself, using the radio in his mind to ask another troll. “Right,” he said eventually. “Ain’t no help there.”

Cuto said something and Ping turned to watch the ini’ rituals as the alien spoke with the five hurgon brothers. Ping could understand a lot now, but the aliens spoke so quickly between themselves that she could not keep up. Meledrin translated. “One of the brothers— I am unsure of its name— seems to think that trains can make the journey from here in approximately five hours.”

“That ain’t so bad. What about fuel? Where can we get some of that? What do we need, Keeble?”

“Hydrogen.”

Another brother spoke.

“Brother Koli states that it may be possible to source hydrogen from the compound by which we are currently situated. Hydrogen is used for... Well, I am not aware of the word Koli uses but apparently it is unlikely a compound situated in this location has any other use.”

Scree nodded for a third time, and this time it looked as if he meant it. “Heres it is then. Keeble is in charge of getting the fuel. Suldon is with you. Meledrin, you’s going with the brothers.”

“Scree, I do not think—”

“No, the problem is you think too much. Palsamon can go with you as back up. And there’ll be some trolls, of course.”

“Will Flint be among them?”

Scree looked at her. “If you wants.”

And Meledrin looked unsure. Ping didn’t think he’d ever seen that before. The elf cleared her throat. “I think it would be best.”

* * *

Keeble started working on a final check of the systems. But they told him nothing he didn’t already know, which was a good thing. He was about to turn his mind to the fuel, though he couldn’t start to plan until he knew where it was and how it was stored and the transport options available. Before he could ask when they were going to get started Tuki, cleared his throat.

“The kil’ini are either dead or gone,” he said. “It looks like...” He zoomed in on the multeese ship.

It was a bit blurry. Keeble squinted, trying to see. “Are they...”

“They Landers,” Chasm said. “Chasm doesn’t like the look of that.”

Keeble grunted but another troll beat him to what he was going to say next as well.

“There’s lot of ‘em,” Chip said.

“There are hundreds,” Ping said. Keeble thought she sounded horrified.

“So whats does that mean, do you reckon?” Scree asked. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem worried at all.

Keeble wasn’t quite sure of the point of the question. Apparently Meledrin wasn’t either and asked.

Flint answered from the viewing gallery. “They can probably kill everyone on the world from up there in their big ship. So why’s they coming down here to do the killing in person? They doesn’t seem like the kind who does stuff for fun.”

“Does it matter?” Keeble asked. “It’s good for us, surely, so let’s not go asking them to explain.”

“It might matters. If we knews the answer it might help us even more.”

Keeble watched the images in the dome. Something about the scale worried him. His eyes narrowed. “The multeese ship is twenty kilometers long, isn’t it?”

Tuki nodded. “A little bit over.”

“Those Landers must be huge. They must be...”

Tuki hit some buttons and looked up suddenly. “They are each more than two hundred meters long.”

Someone whistled.

Scree looked a bit concerned for the first time. “They could have whole armies in each one. How many hurgons are on this world?”

Meledrin translated for Brother Koli. “Koli is unsure exactly but a population of several million is suspected. There is a major city on the far side of the world plus five smaller cities and several hundred minor settlements such as the one here.”

“Something going on, boss?” Flint asked. He took his feet down from the back of the chair in front and stood up to look out the view port, as if he could see something important.

Scree nodded. “The multeese have gots to know they don’t need no huge army. The hurgon ain’t much good as fighters anyways. So if they ain’t bringing people down, maybe theys taking stuff back.”

Keeble didn’t know what that might be. Food? Slaves? Maybe their ship was fuelled by stone. “We could guess all day and still not be close,” he said.

“So we don’t knows shit, do we? As usual. All we cans do is work with what we know. Which is, we needs fuel and we needs to get them damn contracts signed. So nothing has changed, really.”

“Except we try to do things quiet,” Flint said.

“Except that,” Scree agreed. “We’s trolls. We should be good at that, right?”

Keeble laughed.

“Some hurgon are gathering in the gateway,” Tuki said as he zoomed in with a camera.

A gate in the compound wall had opened and a score of nervous looking hurgon were milling about in the stuttering yellow light offered by the lamps on the walls. It looked as if they were waiting for someone to make the first move. Keeble guessed that someone would be Scree.

“Come on,” the troll said. “Let’s get organized.”

7: Before Breakfast

Keeble stood near the back of the group while all the introductions were done. He doubted his name was mentioned. Or most of the others. The Mother and Father of the compound wanted to have everyone arrested so they could be turned over to a Great Family. Then Koli gave them some codes and showed them the contract that needed to be signed. After that, as far as Keeble could tell, they were keen to help in any way they could. It probably made things a lot easier for the locals.

But could they help?

He stood quietly in the fitful light of the wall lamps and scratched at the ground with his boot. Just below the dust he found an old paving stone. It looked older than the compound. There was another beside it. An old road, maybe? Three and a half meters away, two bricks, edges worn away, poked their heads above the surface. So the compound had once been larger? He found it hard to believe that the population had dropped and the hurgon never seemed to move on...

Keeble sighed and turned his attention back to matters at hand. But Meledrin was still talking and waving her arms about as if it was the most important job in the world instead of something they had to get done so they could start the real job.

“What’s going on?” he whispered to Suldon.

The elf kept one ear on the conversation and whispered a reply.

“Greetings have been exchanged. I think for a while the hurgon were wanting to find someone to write everything down so it could be signed.”

Keeble wasn’t sure if Suldon was serious, so said nothing.

“Now Meledrin is trying to establish just what assistance can be offered.” A pause while Suldon listened. “There is a train station here, apparently, and a train that Meledrin and the brothers would be allowed to use. The journey to the Grandmother would take approximately four hours in each direction in normal circumstances. These, however, are not normal circumstances. As for our task...” Another pause. “Hydrogen is indeed used in this compound and is stored in underground chambers.”

“Excellent. Should be done by breakfast then.” It was the middle of the night, local time, but it was morning ship time and Keeble was ready to go.

“Perhaps not, Keeble. The gas is used for street lighting and several other functions but is not actually taken anywhere. There is no way to transport it, other than pipe work which has been in place underground for many years.”

“Then we just make some more pipe.”

“I dare say we will, but I don’t imagine that will be something we can sort out before breakfast.”

“Have some faith, Suldon. You’re with dwarves now.”

“I have faith, Keeble. What I don’t have is some spare high pressure piping.”

Keeble narrow his eyes. “Who have you been talking to? What do you know about gas work?”

Suldon shrugged his slim shoulders. “We have been in hyperspace for many hours and there are only so many books about fainting damsels and detectives and...” He waved a hand as if that explained all the other things he’d had to put up with. “There are many text books in the library as well, and in the engineering bay. And there are always dwarves willing to talk about such things for hours on end if one should be in the mood to listen.”

“So you’ve been learning about gas work? Just in the off chance you might need to know?”

“I also learned of electricity, engines and physics.” He sniffed and looked away for a moment. “To an extent. I must admit that gas works was one of the easier of the subjects I studied.”

Keeble wound the gears on his hand. People astounded him every day and he wasn’t sure he liked it. First there were dwarves working in the gardens and now this. Next thing you know there would be elves who could tell which end of a spanner was the business end and the difference between pishel and kalkal screwdrivers.

“And besides all that,” Suldon concluded, “we might not have finished with all this talking before breakfast. I do believe the hurgon like formalities even more than elves.”

“Huh. Never.”

Ten minutes later Keeble was starting to think that Suldon might be right, on both counts, when Meledrin finally turned to look at Scree, who’d been standing waiting with the apparent patience of a mountain while the talk carried on around him.

“It is organized,” Meledrin told him. “A train is being prepared at this moment and the foreman is on his way to the gas works.”

Scree nodded. “Right. Goods. You lot know what you’re about then so I’ll get back to the ship and leaves you to it.”

“You do not want to—”

“Nope. I’m hungry.” Scree sniffed and scratched his crotch. “Flint’s your second in command, Meledrin. Keeble...” Scree examined the group that would be working with him. “Gulch’s your second, I suppose. Or Suldon. Whoever. Ask someone if there’s any problems. And don’t take too bloody long.”

“Scree?”

“Tuki?” The troll looked around. Keeble did too and found the moai standing at the rear of the group. “What you doing heres?”

Tuki ducked his head. But quickly looked up again. “I was hoping to go with Meledrin.”

“Why?”

Keeble thought Scree sounded incredulous and could understand why. Then he looked at the others who’d be accompanying the elf and understood. Ruby had been added to Blue Troop to bolster numbers for the mission. Scree worked it out as well but said nothing for the moment.

“Inaki knows all that needs to be known to work the skyglass,” Tuki said.

“You can’t go anyway. There’s no reason to takes the risk.”

And with that he turned and left.

“Right,” Keeble said. Where Tuki went didn’t concern him. He rubbed his hands together. “Right. Where’s the gas works then?”

Cuto spoke to one of the locals then waved for him to follow. The fuel finding crew set off following one of the Mother’s guards. There was Keeble’s work gang— Milo, Ari and Dogar— plus Peak, Gulch and Suldon. More might be required at some stage but for the initial stages of the operation that would be more than enough. Though, if any trouble came it would take more than a two trolls to sort it out. Keeble looked up at the sky and the streaks of light from the multeese landing craft.

The wall of the compound was just short of two meters thick and beyond was a narrow warren of streets, some of which might never have seen the light of day. The buildings, crowding close, seemed newer here than on Hulgorn but were no better maintained. Chips had been taken from corners. Windows and doors had dried and cracked in the dry local air. The streets looked like they hadn’t been repaired in decades.

“They just don’t care, do they?” Dogar said from the middle of the group.

“They care,” Peak replied, “they just care about other things.” And it seemed the troll wasn’t totally against their way of thinking. He ducked as they went through a low archway into a narrow alley that looked pretty much like the one they’d just left. His one eye blinked slowly as he looked around. “This is just stuff. Won’t talk to you. Won’t rut with you... Sorry Ari.” He shrugged. “Don’t mean much in the end.”

The gas works was in the middle of the compound which, as far as Keeble was concerned, showed just how much the hurgon had to learn. The stone building was big and square and in need of repair. He hadn’t expected otherwise. Big double doors, bolted together like the hurgon armor, opened up into an entrance hall 5.4 meters to a side. There was a mangled piece of machinery in the middle, testament to just how dangerous this sort of work could be.

“What does the plaque say?” Keeble asked Suldon. But reading hurgon was like learning a whole new language and even the elves were struggling with it. Suldon shook his head and asked Cuto.

“According to Cuto the plaque states, For the P’targa lives lost beneath the marching feet of progress. The Haghar Chamber explosion. A sad end. A new beginning. And then a date from thousands of years ago.”

Keeble shook his head but someone else beat him to the punch line.

“There’s a huge explosion in the first gas works, so they go and build the replacement in the middle of the city?” Milo said. “As dumb as elves...”

It was an old saying than had never offended anyone in the past. Nobody who’d heard it anyway. Milo cleared his throat and turned to examine the rest of the room.

There were three doors other than the one through which they’d entered. Around the far side of the memorial was a studded metal twin to the entrance door. To either side were smaller timber constructions, both open and showing offices beyond. A hurgon came from the one on the left talking quickly and waving his arms. Keeble could follow a lot of it but waited for Suldon to translate anyway, just in case.

“This is the foreman, Tasu. Tasu offers greetings and hope we can all work well together.”

As Keeble listened it took him a moment to realize Suldon was paraphrasing. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see if there was a joke that he hadn’t been let in on. “Right,” he said eventually. “Sounds good. Cuto said something nice in reply, did he?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, then let’s get started.”

“There is some type of contract to be signed first.”

8: Different Paths

Tuki watched as Scree walked away. Then he turned and watched as Meledrin walked the other direction, through the gate, with Ruby guarding her side. They turned towards the north. When Tuki looked around a few seconds later he discovered he was all alone. Keeble and his work party were moving through the gate as well and Scree had disappeared long ago.

Scree is right, Tuki thought. There is nothing I can do to assist Meledrin. He looked around. But there is nothing I can do while the ship is sitting on the ground. After a moment of indecision he quickly followed Meledrin.

He looked over his shoulder as he moved beyond the wall. The guards watched but didn’t try to stop him. Once inside the compound he paused again. But his companions were already out of view so he didn’t have time. He hurried northwards, following the sound of Topper and the other dwarves as they filled the hissing, clattering silence with their voices. Not far along, he came to a small open space with the stone walls towering over his head on all sides. It made him nervous but the way ahead was obvious. Two of the exits were narrow passages, barely wide enough for Tuki to walk through. He would have to duck to avoid hitting his head on the lintels. The other passage, to the left, was a couple of meters across. He hurried on, glancing up at the sky. But when he reached the next intersection he had no idea where he should go next. He stood and looked one direction then the next. There were five choices available and nothing to help. He stood in the intersection, looking one direction and the next, spinning until he had to stop and think where it was he’d come from in the first place. And still he didn’t know.

He was ready to turn around and go back to the ship when he saw a hurgon hiding in a doorway just down one of the streets. He drew in a deep breath and walked slowly forward. The alien backed further into the shadows. But once Tuki stopped he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“This one’s name is Tuki.”

The hurgon grunted. It was sweating and looked very uncomfortable.

“Tuki is looking for the train.” He didn’t even know what a train was, but he was sure that was the hand signal Meledrin had used.

“Tuki is hakan?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true the hakans are signing a treaty with Grandmother Donni?”

“Yes.”

“Hiklo will show Tuki to the train.”

Tuki followed the hurgon as it made its way slowly down the street. It was limping, holding its stomach. The sweat dripping from its nose and elbow, chin and fingers, was like the patter of tiny footsteps in the stillness of the lane. They passed two more hurgon as they walked and both looked in as much distress as Hiklo. Others in the same predicament leaned from narrow windows overhead to watch them pass.

Tuki started to worry that there was a sickness spreading through the compound. He remembered what he had been told when he first travelled through the Ohoga Gate to Earth. Perhaps it would be a minor illness to the locals but deadly to the hakans. Or perhaps it was the hakans who had brought illness to the hurgon. He tapped the alien on the shoulder. “Is Hiklo unwell?”

“What does Tuki mean?” Hiklo did not stop walking and Tuki was having trouble reading the ‘ini rituals correctly.

“Many hurgon here look unwell.”

Hiklo gave an alien nod. “This is the hukarth region of the compound.”

“Tuki does not know what that means.”

“All hurgon here have chosen to be either symbo or givtar. Hurgon here are changing in preparation for the seeding.”

Tuki didn’t know what that meant either. “What is symbo and givtar?”

Hiklo stopped walking. “Symbo are hurgon who choose to carry eggs and then care for the hatchlings. Givtar fertilize the eggs and provide nutrients for the hatchlings until they are old enough to eat properly. Both are grave responsibilities.”

“This is how hurgon have...” Tuki knew of no word for children. “How hurgon breed?”

“Correct. How do hakans breed?”

“Ummm...” Tuki blushed. Ruby had told him the purpose of sex but that wasn’t really what Hiklo wanted to know anyway. “Hakans cannot choose. Hakans are born Symbo or Givtar and remain that way for life.”

“Hiklo does not believe. How do hakans get anything done?”

“Well...”

“Though, perhaps, it is obvious. If hakans are constantly at war amongst hakans, why would hakans not be at war with others?”

Tuki did not think the hurgons were in a position to judge hakans— they had not made contact for many years after all— but he said nothing about that. “Kim says that it is the diversity that hakans face in life that gives hakans strength. Perhaps it is also the diversity of the people that helps.”

“There is strength in stability.”

“There is,” Tuki agreed. “Mountains are very stable, but mountains do not progress or advance. Mountains simply wear away.” Hiklo turned to look and Tuki was worried he had offended the alien. “Must all hurgon choose?” he asked, stumbling over the ini signals in his haste.

Hiklo paused. “All hurgon must make a choice, though hurgon may choose to stay yektil.” The hurgon said the last as if that was hardly a choice at all. This was confirmed a moment later. “No hurgon remain yektil, especially now when hatchlings are required more than ever.”

“What happens if the war ends soon? Will there not be too many hatchlings?”

“The war will not end soon,” Hiklo said. “The Great Families do not want it to end.”

“The treaty Grandmother Donni is to sign could help end the war.”

Hiklo gave a hurgon shrug. “Hiklo will do what is best for the P’targa. Grandmother Donni will let Hiklo and all others know.”

* * *

Keeble sighed. Of course there was a contract. “What’s it about? How much is it going to cost?”

“It will not cost us anything. It is more for their safety. We won’t be using the gas in any way that goes against the interest of the P’targa. We won’t be using it against the hurgon in general. And we won’t sue if there are any problems.”

“But you still can’t read well enough to sign anything.”

“What about Cuto?”

Keeble narrowed his eyes again and looked at the alien. “Do we trust him?”

Suldon turned to look as well. The elf nodded. “The greatest thing in any hurgon’s life is family. Cuto gave that up for Scree and Kim, for all of us, believing that the T’loop family had behaved in a terrible manner. We are Cuto’s family now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure we are Cuto’s family? No. I am unsure exactly how Cuto feels about us. Am I sure we can trust Cuto? Yes.”

“Get him to read the contract then. Just be quick about it.”

Keeble didn’t know whether Suldon didn’t pass on the message but either way it took well over an hour of haggling before Cuto was willing to sign the twenty-page document. The alien didn’t appear to be happy about the outcome but Keeble really didn’t care.

Eventually, Keeble and his work gang were shown to the plant room.

“Big bugger,” Milo said.

Ari scratched her head. “But what does it do, exactly?” There was a hard cast on her broken arm but whatever drugs Thorpe had given her seemed to have taken away any pain.

Keeble couldn’t answer her question. He asked Cuto who asked the foreman.

Suldon translated the reply. “There is a lake on the far side of the compound. Water is brought in here and a machine uses electricity to separate the hydrogen from the oxygen. The oxygen is released and the hydrogen is stored for later use.”

“Right,” said Dogar. “Electrolysis.”

Ari shook her head. “But what do they do with the hydrogen?”

Keeble wasn’t sure about that either.

“It can be used as a shielding gas for welding,” Milo suggested.

“That’s a lot of welding,” Ari said.

“And it could be a reducing agent for smelting,” Milo added.

Ari wrinkled her nose. “How much mining do they do around here?”

“Well I don’t know,” Milo said, obviously offended. “Why don’t you ask?”

Keeble listened as Suldon did the asking. He also watched the ini’ rituals as Tasu replied. He was pretty sure he understood most of them but just because he understood the words didn’t mean he understood what was going on. “They don’t know what the gas is for?”

Suldon nodded. “That is correct. There is a large refinery or factory in this compound that was constructed under supervision of the En’kumo family but it has never been used and the P’targa have not been told of its purpose.”

“That’s what I thought he said.” It was all a bit strange, but in the end didn’t concern him so he set about trying to get some information that would help.

But the details didn’t help at all. That one factory, about a kilometer from the Hakahei, used the gas for purposes unknown. And the streets and buildings were lit with hydrogen lamps, but such a tiny trickle of gas was required that all except the main pipes were about the size of drinking straws. And that was that.

“What about the hydrogen collecting vehicle on the ship?” Milo asked. “Surely that’s made for the job.”

Gulch shook his head. “It ain’t made for flying on planets. No chance, hey, unless you carries it around in something else.”

“Can we do that? Carry it around, I mean?”

Gulch shrugged. “You tell me. I just point stuff in the right direction and tell it to go. And I can barely do that half the time, hey. I don’t know what can carry what.”

Keeble gave it some thought but decided it probably wouldn’t work unless the hurgon had a vehicle that could do the job. The Lander wouldn’t be powerful enough and it would take a couple of days to get everything ready to go anyway.

“We’ll get someone to check with the hurgon about a vehicle, and in the meantime we’ll work on the pipes,” Keeble said eventually.

“Find a nice big main line,” Dogar agreed. “Tap into that and we’re set.”

Tasu found a map so they could have a look.

Ari tried to scratch her broken arm as she examined the old, faded sheet of paper. “That is going to be twelve hundred meters, at least.”

If they could go in a straight line it would be much easier.

“Can they supply enough pipe?”

“Who the hell knows?”

Keeble took the map with him.

9: Taramin’s Blue

Tuki wondered what it would be like to live life without having to make any choices. He would not have been where he was, following a strange hurgon through the compound in pursuit of Ruby. And he would not be dreading what Scree would say when he returned.

He followed the hurgon, ducking through a low door and into a huge, dim bunkhouse. “The hakans went this way?”

“No. This way is quicker.”

“Tuki thanks Hiklo.” Though the hurgon’s slow pace made Tuki wonder if they would ever reach the train at all.

The room was full of two dozen groans and moans that echoed back and back again to merge into something quite different. Though all the hurgon seemed to be in pain, sweating and squirming, they also seemed to be content with their misery, like Tuki felt after a long day of running.

“How long does this last?” he asked Hiklo.

“Several days. Changing back is painful but ends almost instantly.”

“Must you change back?”

Hiklo stopped for a moment to think. “Possibly not. Hiklo does not know if permanence has ever been attempted.”

“And how often does seeding occur?”

“It happens approximately once a century.”

Tuki shook his head. The whole process seemed very strange to him but the whole idea of hakan sex still seemed very strange too.

There were many things he wanted to ask, but they came to another door and went through to a wide street with gas lamps flickering on the walls. A strip of star-speckled sky was barely visible through the glare.

“The train is in that building there,” Hiklo said. “The large door will take Tuki to Tuki’s companions.”

Tuki nodded. “Is there...” He looked around. “Is there another door Tuki can use?”

Tuki thought Hiklo would comment on the odd request, but perhaps it was not possible for the alien to believe Tuki would do anything other than what was best for his family. So they went to a small door twenty meters from the larger one and went through into a storeroom. There was only one other exit.

“The train is through there?”

“Yes.”

“Tuki thanks Hiklo.”

“Tuki is welcome.”

Tuki stood silently for a moment, hoping Hiklo would leave immediately, but the alien stayed put. So Tuki cleared his throat and opened the door a crack to peer out. He was just in time to see Palsamon and Ruby, the last of the hakans, climbing onto the train. So he glanced back at Hiklo, opened the door the rest of the way and slipped out onto the platform. He moved to his right and hid in the shadows beside a pile of large wooden crates. He was still standing there a few minutes later, wondering what he should do. A jet of steam hissed out from under the train and he jumped. Then the train lurched and, heart pounding, Tuki rushed forward. He went to the carriage behind the one his friends had used and tried the door. It opened easily and he jumped on just as the train started to move. Thankfully, there was nobody inside, just more wooden boxes.

It wasn’t until a minute later, with the train moving between high, crowding walls, that Tuki wondered what he was doing.

* * *

Meledrin watched silently as the train pulled into the station, a long stream of smoke rising to fill the top half of the chamber. She had seen a chimney up there prior to the machine’s arrival but as far as she could ascertain it was completely ineffective.

“Must we wait for much longer, do you think?” she asked Palsamon. They had been waiting for some time already. She thought it might almost be midnight. She should not have been surprised— the hurgon idea of time had already been witnessed.

The smoke was stinging her eyes and she also wished to be away from the confines of the compound. Hulgorn had made her feel trapped but the twisting, narrow streets of this compound, surrounded as it was by vast expanses of open land, was even worse.

Palsamon shrugged. “I do not know. I suspect they may need to take on fuel but I cannot be sure. And I am unsure how long that might take anyway.”

Of course he could not know. He had been reading books from the library on the Hakahei voraciously, arguing and discussing the contents with Suldon and anyone else they could find, but the fifty thousand year old technology mentioned in the books were unlikely to relate in any way to what the hurgon used. Some of the dwarves might well know.

Topper and his work gang were waiting not far away. They were showing no interest at all in the train so they knew what it was and how it worked. That was reassuring, if nothing else. Meledrin was about to ask for details, though she knew most of them would be beyond her understanding anyway, but she was saved that slight indignity when they were motioned into a carriage by their escort. And almost before they had sat down the train sent out another belch of steam and lurched into motion.

Meledrin waved a Beginning as the train slowly gathered speed, moving between stone walls that were almost within reach outside the windows. The sound was terrible. The clatter of the wheels on the iron rails and the rhythmic thunder of the engine echoed and grew. Meledrin was unsure if the build up of pressure was entirely in her imagination or was actually happening.

Then they burst into the clear and the light of the falling multeese landers in the sky seemed to bring an early dawn. She blinked against the light and tried to calm her breathing. She waved a Changing but it did not help.

“How do we find ourselves here, Palsamon?” she asked after sitting for some time watching the walls of the narrow valley passing by outside the windows. And all around, like a storm of meteors, the multeese landing craft continued to fall. There seemed to be thousands, though there were probably nothing like those numbers. “At what point did we make the choice to be in this place?”

Palsamon was staring out the window as well, watching the multeese. “Every moment has brought us here,” he said eventually. “Every choice we made from birth.”

“You believe it was destiny?”

He laughed. “No. The opposite, I think. Every tiny choice we make has ramifications we cannot possibly know. Every moment and every choice matters.”

Keeble had been the catalyst, really. If Meledrin had let him be cast out to die, as seemed to be the sensible option when she now gave the matter thought, he would not have been there to attack the Ohoga Tree and Meledrin would have died with most of the elves in Grovely. Sensible did not mean right. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes. We are more now than we ever were previously.”

A landing craft was almost coming straight towards them, growing huge, seeming to fill the sky. The sound of its engines was astounding. It was a throbbing hum that filled her head as if it were a solid thing. Meledrin almost thought she could feel her head swelling with the physicality of it. The craft was huge, as Tuki had said though the numbers could never describe it accurately. It touched down in a cloud of dust not a kilometer from the train, just over the top of a small hill. And the train continued to race along the track like a herd of frightened horses.

“There is another compound over there,” Brother Koli signed.

Meledrin nodded. What more could she do?

“How the hell do we fight that?” Topper asked. “Just that, I mean. Not even the mothership.”

“There’ll be a way,” Flint said. The troll was sitting just behind Meledrin, as if he had appointed himself her shadow. “You just do your job, let other people do theirs.”

“And it’s your job to fight the multeese?” Nina asked.

Flint shrugged. “It’s my job to do what I’m told.”

“That’s it?”

“Close enough. Course, if I’ve got any ideas, it’s my job to pass them on as well. But it ain’t my job to worry about it.”

“So what’s our job, exactly?” Topper asked.

Cliff scratched at the scar on his neck. “Right now, it’s our job t’ help get Meledrin and the brothers t’ the Grandmother and back t’ the ship.”

“Sounds easy,” Hoodek muttered.

But the trolls had settled down again to watch and the conversation died away. Meledrin didn’t mind. She watched the rain of fire outside, trying to see the beauty and not the evil that was behind it.

A few minutes passed silently, except for the rattling of the train along the iron tracks. Eventually, Flint stood up and walked along the length of the carriage to the rear. Their escort, half a dozen bored looking hurgon in P’targa uniforms, watched as he went but they did not seem inclined to stop him. He reached the door and rattled the handle.

“Flint, I do not think—”

But the troll looked at the handle for a moment, found a lock and undid it. When he pulled the door open the P’targa stirred but said nothing.

Meledrin could see a small gap to the next carriage. Flint jumped across to a small landing. Once he had the second door open he stuck his head in, said something, then returned to his seat. Meledrin thought it all very strange until Tuki came into view a moment later. It took him a moment to work up the courage to jump across the gap, then he stood near the door, rubbing at the meteor tattoo on the back of his hand.

“We ain’t sending you home, Tuki,” Flint said as he tried to get comfortable on the wooden seat.

Finally, the moai moved forward. He looked at the seat beside Ruby, which was occupied by Nina, then sat down in the row behind.

“What are you doing here, Tuki?” Meledrin asked, though it was obvious enough. The lad did not bother answering anyway. “Does Scree know of this, Flint?”

“Course. Told him before the train left the station.”

“And he does not mind?”

The troll shrugged. “Don’t make that much difference. He ain’t happy that Tuki didn’t listen but he’ll deal with that when we get back.”

Meledrin saw Tuki swallow nervously and decided she did not want to be a part of that conversation either.

“Well, Tuki, now that you have your wish and are coming with us, I trust you will be more mindful of any orders you receive.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. And Meledrin decided there wasn’t a lot more she could say either, so she sat back and returned her attention to watch as the spectacular light show drew to a close.

“Do you remember that night long ago,” Palsamon said quietly.

Meledrin turned to look at him.

“It was not long after I first went to your cabin. We went out after midnight, looking for sepamil flowers and—”

Meledrin smiled and nodded. “Yes.” Then she blushed for she had interrupted. She carried on anyway. “There were hundreds of shooting stars. We lay on top of Taramin’s Blue to watch.”

Palsamon smiled as well. “I think that was the night I decided I loved you.”

Meledrin returned her attention to the darkness outside the window. She pushed hair away from her face and tried to remember how she had felt on that night long ago. But she could remember nothing beyond the lights in the sky overhead.

The train plunged into a forest and started climbing towards the mountains. Meledrin sat back and closed her eyes.

10: A Small Group

Scree scanned his screen. There were a whole heap of multeese landing craft visible and a lot of those seemed to have landed within a couple of kilometers of the Hakahei. Maybe being quiet wasn’t going to help. Maybe they’d already been spotted. He found that hard to believe though. He thought if they’d already been spotted they’d already be dead.

“Hey, boss, what we got?” Gulch was leaning in the doorway, packet of muesli in hand.

Scree shrugged. “I gots no idea.” He leaned back in the chair. “One thing I thought earlier... We was wondering if the multeese were bringing down a huge army or if they was taking something back up to their ships. Well, what if they’s huge. What if there’s only one of thems squeezed into each of the ships?”

Gulch shrugged as well and scratched at his red hair with the stub of a finger. “Does it make any difference?”

“Maybe.”

“Then, hey, let’s go have a look.”

Scree smiled. That was the type of plan Kim was likely to hate, but she still wasn’t awake so she couldn’t complain. “I suppose you wants to come?”

Gulch smiled.

“A small group, I reckons.” They didn’t have a lot of choice. They had to leave enough people behind to make sure the ship was safe. Scree called the senior marines to the office and, while he waited, picked up the food he’d forgotten about half an hour ago. It was past midnight local time, but that meant nothing to him.

“How far to the closest one, hey?” Gulch went to the desk to have a look at the images on the monitor.

The closest ship was barely two kilometers away. It had come down near the edge of the last of the fields and was now sitting silently, giving off waves of heat.

“Won’t take long, hey.”

Scree laughed around a mouthful of food. “Could be fighting our ways through an army of multeese in ten minutes, but no, won’t takes long.”

“They might be big, like you says. But, hey, maybe they’re the size of rabbits too. Or maybe they has them huge ships cause everything else is little.”

“So we should fights naked then, just to make them feel even worse?”

Gulch smiled. “Maybe me, hey, but Stone wouldn’t impress anyone.”

Stone stopped in the doorway. “You confused, Gulch. You just got small hands and I got big hands, you stupid bastard.” He smiled as well. “Biggest hands you’ve ever seen.”

“They must be huge, hey.”

Stone went to stand by the desk as well. “You got a plan, Scree?”

“Well, Gulch suggested it, but it’s the type of plan I like.”

“This should be fun.”

“Not so much funs for you, maybe.”

“So I’m baby-sitting the ship? Burning cats, that’d be right.”

“It was Gulch’s idea.”

“Who cares?”

Thorpe, Tim McCree, Chasm, Pool and Shardy all arrived together. Thorpe removed his red beret and took a seat, the others stayed on their feet.

“We’re going for a frontal assault,” Scree said, just to see how they reacted. Thorpe obviously thought it was a terrible idea but knew Scree wasn’t completely serious. Tim didn’t show anything and the trolls all liked the idea.

“What we got?”

“That’s just it.” Scree sighed. “We gots no idea. I’m going to go with Yellow Troop and have a look. There’s one of the ships close by.

Tim looked at the monitor. “There are five of them close by.”

“Aye.” Pool leaned in closer to look as well. “Looks like they concentrated around our area.”

“I’m not so sure,” Thorpe said. “Are they focused on us, or the compound? Look over here.” He pointed to another compound about halfway around the side of the world. “There’s five around that compound as well.”

It was obvious really. Scree nodded. “So we need to find out what’s special about those compounds, then we might know where to starts.”

“Exactly.”

When Scree spoke to the bridge in his mind Tami replied and few minutes later, Bethalin arrived.

“You wished to speak with an elf, Scree?”

“Yeah, Beth. We needs to talk with one of the locals. We want some information about the compounds arounds about here.”

“Very well. I shall see if I can find a hurgon who can assist.”

“Right. Chip and Crystal’ll meet you in the hold. They can tell you what questions we need answered.” He looked at the computer. “Now, how does I get the computer to draw this picture for me?” He’d seen Keeble do it.

When Beth had gone, Scree turned back to his computer.

“So, no re-con mission,” Thorpe said. “We’re going to have problems pretty soon anyway.”

“How you figure that?”

“They’re obviously going to attack all the compounds. And this one is more important than most of the others, for whatever reason.”

Scree swore.

Chasm nodded slowly. “Chasm thinks we need to organize some defense. And quickly.”

* * *

Keeble sighed. Of course they couldn’t supply enough pipe.

He looked up at the racks in the storehouse and tried to calculate.

“Two hundred meters of the larger sized piping,” Suldon said.

Keeble turned to look at him. “You’re an expert on logistics now?” He shook his head. “That’s just wonderful. I’ll head back to the ship and leave you in charge, shall I?”

“He’s right, Keeble,” Milo said. “Well, I make it about one hundred and ninety.” He shrugged. “But, you know.”

Keeble looked at Suldon again. “Two hundred meters?”

Suldon nodded. “It says here.” The elf held out a clipboard with a sheet of rough, ragged-edged paper on it.

“You read it? Give me that.” He snatched the clipboard away.

“It is written in hurgon. I am unsure if it will do you any good.”

And of course it didn’t. “You can suddenly read hurgon? You couldn’t back at the gas works.”

“Numbers are relatively simple. There are not all that many of them, after all.”

Keeble shook his head. “Two hundred meters. Where are the pipes manufactured?”

It was Cuto who answered, using the ini rituals and no words. “The pipes are manufactured in this compound, but only on a small scale. The plants are often left dormant.”

“How long to get them working?”

Cuto asked Tusa. “Eight hours.”

That was better than he’d been expecting. But he guessed that was only half the problem. “And how long to manufacture 800 meters of piping?”

“Seven days.”

Milo and the other dwarves groaned but Keeble had been expecting as much. And they only needed 800 meters of pipe if they could go in a straight line.

Cuto was signing some more. “That might be halved if quality is not an issue.”

Normally the thought of doing a job half properly would have horrified Keeble but they didn’t have that much time and the pipes only had to last for a couple of hours. He sighed. “Come on then, let’s go see the plant. Maybe we can get it going quicker ourselves.”

11: Peripheral Matters

“We have almost stopped,” Meledrin said. It was obvious and did not require pointing out, but she felt better having done it anyway. She examined the trees beyond the window.

Topper nodded. “This train hasn’t got a lot of power. I’m not sure if something’s wrong or this is just the way it is.”

“Should you go to discover if there is a problem?”

The dwarf shrugged. “This lot here could probably tell us if this is normal,” he said, indicating their silent hurgon escort. “What would I do anyway? It looks like we’re getting close to the top of the hill so let’s wait and see.”

Meledrin nodded. “Very well.”

She was about to resume her seat when she looked out the other window. Back near where they had started their journey, there were dozens of islands of light. The soft glow of the hurgon compounds contrasted clearly with the harsh white glare thrown by the alien landing craft.

“There are more ships than hurgon compounds,” Meledrin said. “How can we hope to survive?”

Flint crossed to stand beside her. He had probably been examining the scene for some time. “We don’t hope,” he said, smoothing down his moustache. “Hope is for people who are sitting back waiting for others to do what needs to be done.” He sniffed. “We don’t hope. We plan and we think and we do.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We’re already doing it.”

“But it seems to me that we are concentrating on peripheral matters.”

“This is war, Mel. Most battles don’t look important, until you realize they are. Or the other way around. You don’t study the war until it’s over.”

“So we assume that what we are doing is of vital importance?”

“Yep.”

“And if it is not? If we are wasting our time?”

“Then we try to waste the enemy’s time as well.”

The worldview of the trolls surprised Meledrin every time she conversed with one though each time she told herself not to be fooled by their blunt, simple exteriors. She regularly underestimated them, even Scree and Flint who were more intelligent than the others. The harsh lives they had lived left no room for affectation and they may well not live long enough to have second thoughts.

Meledrin returned to her seat. “How old are you, Flint?”

The troll looked a bit confused. “Not exactly sure. Seen about 30 summers, I think. Why?”

“You seem much older.”

“Huh.” He sat down as well. “I reckon a troll year might be longer than an elf year.”

“I do not mean you look old. I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Mel. You lived in a nice cool forest with all your friends and the most you had to worry about was... Well, did you ever worry about anything?”

“We...” Meledrin looked the troll up and down and decided the concerns of her life in Grovely would pass unnoticed in the life of a troll. “I suppose we didn’t have a great many concerns.”

He smiled. “Yeah. But I reckon a day of running in the desert, or a day running from soldiers, ages you real quick. Physically and emotionally. And you know what, you spend all day running and fighting and hiding, you got a lot of time to think about other things.” Flint leaned back and closed his eyes. “Most trolls ain’t big fans of thinking, but most of the time they ain’t got any choice.”

“And what thoughts have you thought, in all your running?”

“Don’t waste time.”

“I am sorry, I—”

Flint shook his head. “No, that’s what I was thinking. Get the things you want. Do the things that need to be done. Eat and love and sing while you got the chance, ‘cause you don’t know if you will ever get the chance again.” He smiled. “Don’t waste time with peripheral matters.”

Meledrin glanced at Palsamon but didn’t say anything more.

The train labored up the final gasp of slope and entered a narrow cutting. Then it topped the hill and immediately began to accelerate.

“There we go,” said Topper. “The worst part is over.”

Meledrin was not so sure. “There seemed to be more of the multeese craft on this side than on the other. There are so many.”

* * *

Keeble led his work crew down a narrow walkway between two machines. Hurgon were rushing around everywhere, stoking fires, oiling gears, adjusting wheels. Every one of them was concentrating fiercely but still paused to watch the hakans go by. Then the activity broke out again, seemingly more urgent than before.

“Well?” Keeble asked, looking back.

Milo shook his head but Dogar nodded.

“I did some work in a foundry when I was younger. I reckon I could work this out if needed. Might be able to ask Makar too— he’s had a bit to do with this kind of thing. I reckon the hurgon will be quicker though, either way.”

“So what are we supposed to do then?” Milo asked. “Do we just stand around watching?”

Keeble wound the gears on his hand. Just the thought of standing around made his toes itch. “Let’s see if we can help.”

“I can thump some hurgon if them workin’ too slow,” Peak offered

Keeble laughed. “Not sure if that’d have the desired effect, Peak. I reckon the rest of the hurgon would head for the hills.”

The troll shrugged. It probably didn’t worry him either way— he’d just do what he was told.

Keeble looked around. Over the far side of the huge room hurgon were shoveling ingredients into barrows. “How about you and Gulch go over there and see if you can help with that. Maybe we can free up some skilled labor for elsewhere.”

“Right.”

The two trolls headed for the barrows, looking as if they meant business. Keeble imagined them pushing the aliens out of the way and going wild with the shovels. But when they arrived they waved their arms in the ‘ini rituals— it didn’t all make a lot of sense as far as Keeble could tell— then set to work once they’d deciphered the replies.

“Whistler, that could be interesting.” Keeble looked around some more. “Looks like they’re measuring over there.” He pointed. “Ari, Milo, you two can handle that.” They left to see what they could do. But there wasn’t a lot else that looked like tasks anyone could complete.

“Let’s go find out a bit more about the process,” Dogar suggested.

“Right.” Of course. If you don’t know, ask. First thing every dwarf learnt on the job.

Keeble looked around and found the foreman. He was checking over some paperwork, talking to himself and making notes as he went. He wasn’t looking happy.

“What’s his problem, Suldon?”

Keeble didn’t even bother trying to keep up with the hurgon’s wild gesticulating.

“Uncle Habu is concerned about supplies, quotas and storage, not necessarily in that order. No production was scheduled for some time so raw materials are lacking and storage will be a concern when the job is completed.”

Keeble thought about that for a second. “Couldn’t give a stuff about the storage problems,” he said, “but get a list of numbers for the quantities and the requirements translated for me.”

“Very well.” Suldon turned and spoke to the foreman for a minute. “This may take a little while he said eventually. “And I may need some assistance to work out what the ingredients actually are.”

Keeble appointed Dogar and Cuto to be Suldon’s assistants. “And is there someone who can show Dogar what some of these machines do. He might be able to speed them up or something.” He wondered what they could get in return for showing the hurgon how to do things better. Or maybe that was all laid out in the contracts they were trying to get signed. Either way, the locals were probably going to learn a thing or two in the next few days.

Keeble looked around some more. There was nothing left there for him to do, as far as he could tell. Everyone seemed to be working as fast as they could. Although the only work they were really doing was getting ready to do the real work.

“I’m going back to the ship,” he told Suldon. “Get Gulch or Peak to contact me if there’s any problems.”

On the way he stopped and looked up at the sky. It was well past midnight now and the multeese light show had finished, letting loose the stars again. Keeble breathed and tried to think. What was he missing? There was something he was overlooking. Pipe? Gas? “Whistler, it could be anything.”

Connectors. That wasn’t it, but he’d need them anyway. He started walking again, turning toward the storage facility so he could collect a couple of connectors for the end of the pipes.

* * *

Scree sat at the desk staring at the computer. There were too many things to think about. A few weeks ago all he had to think about was staying away from humans and finding one more meal. It was life and death stuff, but still not very complicated. Now it was fuel and contracts and the special compounds and trying to work out why the multeese suddenly didn’t want to kill anyone.

“Why don’t they wants to kill anyone?” It was just crazy. They were keen to do it every other time.

By the time Chip and Crystal got back from the compound, Scree was ready to get some sleep. The others had left a while ago, some to keep planning defenses, others to sleep. He could’ve used the radio, but they both came to the office and stood in the doorway.

“What we got?” Scree asked.

“We show the Mother a map,” Crystal said, “and it took took about 2 seconds for her to work it out.”

“And?”

“The only only thing all them places got got in common is some type of special factory.”

“What sort of factory?”

Chip shrugged. “Mother don’t know.”

“She don’t know? Ain’t she in charge of the compound?”

“Kinda. But En’kumo tells P’targa what to do. And T’loop tell En’kumo what to do.”

Scree grunted. “Bloody stupid peoples. This whole thing is stupid. I need to sleep.”

“Get a dwarf to go look look.”

Chip nodded. “Any of dwarves will think it’s a great game.”

“Good idea.”

Scree followed the trolls to the elevator but when the others got off at Level 2 he continued all the way down to the Engineering Bay.

12: Too Far, Too Many

Keeble sat down at the second desk in the Engineering Office— the largest was Ping’s— and examined the map. He used a pen to draw the position of the ship, making a mark eleven and a half meters from the wall. Then he examined the position of the gas works and the main pipelines radiating out from there. The closest any pipe came was seven hundred and seventy meters in a straight line. He spent ten minutes calculating different routes, winding through the narrow streets, and the best he could come up with was 1195 meters. It was too far. He went back and calculated again but couldn’t improve on it.

“Damn.” Keeble threw down his pen. That was going to take too long. But of course, it all depended on how long Meledrin took. As long as the fuel was in before she got back... He rubbed at his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

The longer he sat looking at the map, the more annoyed he was going to get, so he turned to the computer and examined the fuel tanks and the piping and the still, trying to work out how to get the pipes into the ship. The only options were the inlet valves but they were on the far side of the ship, adding an extra fifty-five meters to the length. He sighed, tapping his metal arm on the side of the desk.

Five minutes later, Keeble was still examining the schematics as if something might magically change. He was relieved when someone walked in the door.

“Scree, what can I do for you?” he said. “Please, let there be something for me to do.”

“Having fun?”

“Of course. We’re going to need nearly 1200 meters of pipe to weave through the damn streets. And there’s only 200 meters in the warehouse.” He pulled the map across to show him.

Scree grunted. “Take a while to make all that pipe?”

“In Tab Cavern we could have it done in about two days. Here it will be about a week, apparently.”

Scree grunted again and looked at the map. “How high is them buildings?”

Keeble shrugged. “I think most of them are three stories high. Why?”

“Go over the roofs then.”

Keeble looked at the map. He looked at Scree. He looked back at the map. “You may well be a genius. Have you been tested?”

“Whats?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got to go and...” But everyone was either sleeping or working. It could wait until morning. “Wait, you wanted me for something?”

“There’s some types of factory here that the P’targa don’t knows anything about.”

“Yeah, it’s the main factory, the one that uses all the hydrogen.”

“Well, we needs to know what it does.”

“Why?”

Scree shrugged. “They’s gots something to do with why the multeese is here.”

“You’re kidding?” He wound the gears on his hand. “You’re not kidding. So, do we need to look now?”

“Don’t think it’ll matters. Morning will do fines.”

“Right. Good. I’ve got to do some calculations then.” He didn’t even notice Scree leaving the room.

* * *

Tuki looked up when the train came to a halt. Flint and Cliff were standing near the front of the carriage, leaning out the window to look in to the first hints of the morning. Ruby fell silent and watched as well.

“Don’t look too bad from here,” Flint said.

“Doesn’t look like a whole army. Not from here. And they don’t look much bigger than us. But there was a lot o’ the landers,” Cliff replied.

“Eight,” Tuki told him.

“Eight?” Bones asked from his spot on the other side. “That’s a lot. Them ships are big so it sounds like a lot to me.” He turned to Quartz. “Sounds like a lot.”

Cliff glanced at Bones then turned to Tuki. “You sure? Looked like more than that.”

“I counted them when we were up higher.” But Cliff was right— it had looked like there were a lot more than eight. In the night, the landers and the compounds were the only things that could be seen. And if they had all been full of people…

Flint nodded. “Eight’s enough. If this is where Grandma Donni is, then stands to reason they’d concentrate the attack here.”

“Not necessarily,” Meledrin offered. “From the small amount we know of the situation I do not believe the multeese are concerned one way or the other about the Grandmother.”

“I suppose this place is probably bigger than the other compounds?” Cliff said.

“Don’t make much difference. Just got to get through them multeese to get to the compound. So, I say we listen to the great military mind we know as Keeble.”

Tuki didn’t know if Flint was serious. Meledrin obviously couldn’t believe he was. “I beg your pardon?” the elf asked.

Flint smiled some more. “Keeble. He likes simple plans. Let’s just go as fast as we can, drive this train right through them.”

Tuki wasn’t sure if that would work but he hardly thought it was his place to say.

Beside him, Ruby was shaking her head. “This is a bloody big target and it ain’t as if we can duck and weave. They couldn’t possibly miss.”

“Maybe,” Flint admitted. “But what’re they gonna hit us with?” He gestured to the gun he’d left on his seat. “We could fire them things at the train all day and not do any good.”

Topper interrupted. “Or you could get one lucky shot and blow the whole thing up.”

“Really?”

Topper nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know. At the very least we broke that weapon thing back on Hulgorn.”

“And we already know they have better weapons than we do. Maybe they’ll only need one shot.”

“Any other suggestions then?”

“No.”

“Anyone?”

Nobody said anything. Tuki didn’t know that there were any other options. They could take the train or they could walk. And if they were taking the train, then the only thing they could control was the speed. That didn’t mean he thought it was a good idea.

Flint turned to Meledrin. “You’re in charge.”

Meledrin looked from Flint to Palsamon and back. “I believe the plan sounds risky, Flint.” She glanced at Palsamon again. “But if you can see no other alternative, then we obviously have no choice. We must get these contracts through as quickly as possible.”

Tuki shifted on his seat and Cliff noticed. “What is it, Tuki?” he asked.

Tuki blushed. “It is as Meledrin says, we must get the contracts through, but if we die...”

“If we die then they won’t get through at all,” Ruby finished.

“And if we don’t get there we die anyway,” Flint said. “Maybe not today, but soon enough.”

Meledrin nodded. “I shall inform the driver of the train of our desires. The decision may not be ours to make, ultimately.”

She stood up but before she could move towards the door at the front of the carriage a hurgon came through the other way. Tuki watched the two of them wave their arms for a while with the brothers from Hulgorn watching on and adding their voices.

Eventually the hurgon turned and left and Meledrin resumed her seat. “Aunt Muti is not happy with our request but has been convinced. Muti suggests that we all find something to hold on to.”

Tuki thought that sounded like a good idea but the seats were not much more than wooden boxes. They did not have safety belts like the seats on the Hakahei. They were not even attached to the floor. Apparently the trolls didn’t want to sit anyway. They had all gone to stand by the windows so they could better see the action. Tuki looked around then went to the rear of the carriage to sit in the corner.

“Safer up the front, Tuki,” Topper said. The dwarf was already heading in that direction. “If the train stops in a hurry you’ll be thrown forward.”

Tuki didn’t care about the details. He trusted Topper, so he followed the dwarf and tried to find a spot amongst all the sensible people who were trying to find a safe place.

Amy smiled at him and moved aside slightly to make room. And as he sat down, Amy on one side and Nina on the other, Tuki wondered when he had become so comfortable around women. And how. Since leaving Danyon Ford he had discovered that women were less than he had been led to believe. But he turned to look at Ruby and knew that they were much more as well. They were people, and that was all. And every moment he spent with Ruby convinced him that men and women sharing their lives equally was the way it should be done, or at least the way he wanted it to be.

“How do you like taking orders from Kim?” Tuki asked Amy.

The American shrugged. “Not that much different to taking orders from the usual sources. She doesn’t shout as much, I suppose. And it never really gets boring.”

That was true. The Americans had been on the ship less time than Tuki and a lot had happened. There was always something happening.

“I think it might be nice to be bored occasionally.”

Amy laughed. “I think I might be nearing that point myself, Tuki. Driving this train through the gauntlet doesn’t strike me as a lot of fun.”

“It is even better than that,” Tuki said. “We don’t even get to drive, we just sit here and hope.”

“Don’t remind me.”

The train lurched into motion.

“Here we go.”

They gathered speed and when they reached the valley floor the train was rattling and shaking as it raced along. Tuki knew they travelled much faster in the Hakahei, so much faster that is was really impossible to compare, but the train seemed to go much faster.

“Will we be able to stop?” Tuki asked.

Nobody answered.

He was about to ask again, though he supposed Aunt Muti knew what she was doing, when a window shattered and all the trolls dropped to the floor, almost as one.

“That was close,” Bones said. A red welt marked his cheek. “Ouch. Did you see that? Huh. That hurt. It burned. A bit.”

Quartz cleared her throat. “Maybe we should stay away from the windows for a while.”

Flint raised his head just above the bottom of the window for another look. “You’re no fun,” he said. But he ducked back down and tried to get comfortable. “Don’t think it’s going to take long anyway.”

More windows broke and Tuki covered his head with his arms. Glass rained down around him, catching the light like shooting stars, tinkling against the hard timber floor to become a new constellation. Strange marks, like burns, but not quite, appeared on the ceiling and the walls above the windows.

Soon, there were no windows left at all and glass covered the entire floor. The train thundered on, rattling and rolling, clattering noisily.

“Wish you’d stayed at home yet, Tuki?” Flint asked.

Tuki swallowed and shook his head. Ruby was smiling at the other end of the carriage.

Then the train lurched more than it had at any other time as it suddenly started to slow.

Bones risked another look out the window. “Not far, not far at all,” he said. He cocked his head to one side. “Not sure if we’ll stop in time.” He sat back down and smiled. “This is fun. Lots of stuff happening. It’s all happening. Maybe we should make Keeble the captain of the Hakahei. Now that would be fun.”

Tuki thought that was a horrible idea, but he wasn’t sure if the troll was serious.

Flint obviously didn’t. “I think that would be a little too much fun, even for you, Bones.”

13: Hallways

Tuki leaned back against the wall, breathing deeply, as the train continued to slow. It still seemed to be going very fast when it plunged into the compound. Darkness engulfed them. The sound of the enemy weapons stopped suddenly but the sound of the train’s passage seemed to double, triple, as the echoes came back from the thick stone walls. The screeching of brakes was like the cries of a hundred dragons.

Tuki got to his knees to look out the window and watched as they rushed through a brightly lit station. Then darkness again as the train continued to slow.

Finally, it stopped and the silence was a relief. Then a hiss of steam spurted out into the passage and the train started to go backwards. The journey back to the station seemed to take forever. Tuki sat silently and even the trolls seemed to feel the close crowding walls.

A few minutes later, light started to seep into the carriage again and Tuki breathed a sigh of relief.

Flint and Cliff went to look out the window. “That was easier than I thought,” Flint said, straightening his uniform.

“Piece o’ piss,” Cliff agreed, scratching at the spot where his ear used to be. When the train stopped he opened the door. Half a dozen beams of energy hit him in the chest and he stumbled backwards. He fell to the floor and didn’t move again.

Tuki gagged on the smell of burning flesh. He stood and stared until Ruby pulled him down to the floor. Everyone else was already taking cover while Flint quickly shut the door.

One of the hurgon Brothers said something. Meledrin was staring at Cliff’s still form and didn’t notice. The hurgon spoke again.

Tuki watched as Meledrin cleared her throat and visibly tried to collect her thoughts. “Brother Kalis...” She wiped a wisp of hair away from her face. “Ummm... Brother Kalis informs me that the guards waiting on the platform are not of the P’targa.”

Flint grunted. “Really?”

“They are members of the En’kumo family.”

“That doesn’t tell us what their problem is.”

“Why they shooting at us when there’s a whole army of buggers out there?

Tuki tried not to look at Cliff and the hole that had been melted in the front of his EVA combat suit. “What do we do?” he asked, so quietly that he wasn’t sure that anyone heard.

“Come on,” Flint said.

Bones and Quartz had already opened a door on the far side of the carriage and were carefully looking out into the darkness of the tunnel.

“We gotta hurry,” Flint said. He was herding the dwarves towards the door as he looked back over his shoulder.

“So we just run along the passage in the dark?” Tuki asked. It didn’t sound like a lot of fun. And it didn’t seem that it was a sound plan. “They’ll know where we are going.”

“Maybe,” Flint said. But he turned to look at Topper. “You got a Song of Being, right?”

The dwarf nodded.

“What’s with the wall out there?”

“It’s just under a meter thick.”

“Sing us through.”

Topper nodded and started his Song. By the time Tuki climbed down to the ground half a minute later, last in line except for Bones and Quartz, the others had already climbed up into a refectory, much to the surprise of a dozen dining hurgon.

When he climbed up as well, Tuki nodded to the nearest alien and gave a greeting in the ini’ rituals. The hurgon responded hesitantly.

But Tuki didn’t notice anyway. His hands were covered in blood. There were dozens of pieces of glass in one. The pain washed over him and all he could do was stare.

“Come on,” Ruby grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door on the far side of the room.

Flint nodded. “This gives us some time, but we don’t want to waste it standing around here chatting.”

Out in the hall, Ruby tugged Tuki’s arm to make him stop. He looked around. Everyone else had stopped as well.

“What is our destination?” Meledrin asked.

Nobody answered for a moment.

Tuki turned to Flint. “Perhaps we should go back and chat with the hurgon in the refectory, to see if they can help.” Ruby was working on his hands, gently picking out the pieces of glass. Tuki winced.

Flint grimaced. “Don’t get smart with me, lad.”

But Meledrin was already going back with Brother Koli to get some help. They emerged a couple of minutes later with what was obviously a reluctant guide and immediately headed down the hallway.

“What’s happening around here?” Flint asked Meledrin.

The elf asked. “Apparently the En’kumo came yesterday and took over the compound. The action was not contested as the contracts stipulate that this can be done at any time. But the P’targa are starting to grow concerned as Grandmother Donni has not been seen since.”

“The contract doesn’t allow for that?”

“No. Family comes first, Flint. The contract exists for no reason other than to benefit both families. Any contract that threatens the Grandmother or any member of the P’targa family would not be allowed.”

“But this guy don’t know what’s going on either?”

“Piko is unaware.”

“Either way,” Quartz said, “we got to find out where Donni is.”

Tuki followed along silently, following close behind Ruby, trying to keep his eyes focused on where he was going, and not on his hands.

“Koli and I have explained the situation and Piko is concerned. Piko is leading us to the chambers where Grandmother Donni resides.”

Flint nodded but did not look sure. “There’s sure to be guards.”

“If Donni’s there at all,” Dogar added. He was cleaning his teeth with his fingernail. “I’m not a troll but it doesn’t seem like good strategy, for either side, for Donni to stay there.”

Nina cleared her throat. “What are the rules of succession?” she asked. “What happens if Grandmother Donni has been killed?” She glanced at Piko as if the alien might understand.

“I do not know,” Meledrin replied. “And I do not think now would be the best time to ask. Let us hope the question does not need to be answered.”

Tuki looked Piko as well, but the hurgon walked on, oblivious. Tuki wished he could do the same.

* * *

Meledrin glanced at Nina. She worried that, if Grandmother Donni had been killed as the dwife suggested, then all their efforts would have been for naught. Was the Grandfather on this world? Or would they have to take the brothers and all their contracts somewhere else? Back to Hulgorn, perhaps. Was the Grandfather next in line at all? She sighed. We will just have to worry about that when the time comes. She almost laughed at her repetition of Kim’s favorite course of action. But she decided it was not necessarily a bad way to do things. She thought she might worry herself to a complete standstill were she to behave otherwise now.

Hurrying along the hall behind Piko, Meledrin tried to rein in her thoughts and concentrate. Despite her efforts she was surprised when Flint grasped the alien’s arm and pulled it away from a cross passage. The troll leaned around the corner and fired his weapon. Bones and Quartz dashed forward to assist. Amy McCree stayed where she was, guarding the rear though she obviously wished to rush forward as well.

Meledrin listened to the clatter of the weapons, trying to shut from her mind what the sounds actually meant. Violence was not a common part of life in Grovely and she was unsure if she would ever become accustomed to it. She hoped not. She waved a ceremony of Changing, though it took her a moment to remember the exact movements required. I am less and less an elf each day, she thought. Soon I will not remember the smell of the forest, or the sound of the trees whispering to the breeze. She calmed her breathing and tried also to calm her racing heart. She looked at Palsamon, wondering if he felt the same fear as she. Not only the fear of the moment, of the death and destruction. But the fear of the future and what it would hold for themselves and all their people. She wasn’t even sure who their people were any more.

No, she was sure of one person.

Hurgon shouts came from around the corner. Grunts of pain. A scream. Then nothing.

Meledrin discovered she was staring at Palsamon and quickly looked away as Flint motioned everyone forward. Meledrin didn’t’ move, but Piko edged towards the corner. The hurgon stopped after entering the cross passage and it seemed it would not move again.

The alien’s stillness goaded Meledrin into motion. They did not have time to be shocked or to have doubts. All around this world, hurgon were dying. Possibly, hakans were dying as well. She glanced back the way they’d come, thinking of Cliff laying on the floor of the train amidst the glass.

“Come,” she said. “We must hurry.”

She walked forward and Flint started moving so she barely even had to look at the bodies of the aliens. Piko followed as well, then moved to the front to lead once more. The alien’s pace quickened as if it too realized the consequences of delay.

“What were they guarding,” Meledrin asked of nobody in particular.

Flint grunted and Palsamon was already asking Piko, obviously the only one who was likely to know an answer.

A guardroom? Meledrin informed Flint and the troll backtracked down the passage to the doorway. He lifted the latch and swung the big door inwards with a squeal of ancient, neglected hinges. Brother Koli nudged past him into the room and emerged a minute later with a dozen P’targa guards in his wake. The first five Cousins out stooped to collect weapons from the fallen En’kumo and stood ready for action. Piko said something and those with the weapons marched forward to take the lead.

Meledrin heard Palsamon thank Piko. The alien stood in the hallway and watched them move away behind the Cousins.

14: A Risky Plan

Meledrin stayed in the middle of the group, with soldiers of one description or another all around. And each time they encountered another squad of En’kumo guards she tried to pretend the ensuing confrontation had nothing to do with her. In a way it didn’t. The Brothers would be doing all the work once they found the Grandmother. Her presence was as much symbolic as anything else. She sighed. I suppose it is required, nonetheless. Though Palsamon could have taken the role as easily. She would not have like that either. To know he was in danger while she waited back at the ship seemed like a totally different kind of fear. And it was strange to realize that mere weeks ago she would not have wanted him to undertake the task simply because he was a man.

An hour later, they had lost most of the original P’targa but gained a dozen others from various sites. The element of surprise had allowed them to take care of nearly fifty of the enemy. Bones had been injured but refused all offers of assistance and limped painfully along with the rearguard, cheerfully complaining to anyone who would listen— even if they could not understand— with weapon ever at the ready. Dogar had been hurt as well. Nina had fashioned a bandage from a scrap of cloth found in a room and Hoodek supported him as he limped along. His complaints were not as good-natured as the troll’s. His rough, weathered face was creased in a permanent scowl, but that was not far away from his usual expression.

The next battle, for a door at the end of a long, wide, colonnaded hallway, saw the death of three more P’targa guards. The P’targa did not seem overly concerned by the loss of their companions. They stepped over the bodies as if they were mere pieces of furniture. They showed no emotion at all.

“They do not even care,” Meledrin said to Palsamon, who walked at her side. “They say family is important to them but it is obviously not in any emotional way.”

Palsamon shook his head.

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think the dwarves have been saying about elves for the last thousand years, Meledrin?”

“I do not know. I am sure it was not flattering.”

“They have said we are cold and emotionless.” He gave a small smile. “And they were right. We guard our emotions from all but our closest friends. We are proud of that fact and you well know it.”

“We control our emotions, Palsamon. The hurgon have none.”

Palsamon shook his head again. “So you say. But even if you are correct, that does not make them less than us. Their civilization has lasted much longer than any hakan one. Who are we to argue with that?”

Perhaps he was right. He had been more often than not recently. Meledrin gave thought to the fact that she had dealt with Cliff’s death and moved on. How was that different from the lack of emotion she had attributed to the hurgon? And just a couple of hours earlier, Palsamon had stated that he had loved Meledrin for more than twenty years though he had never said anything previously. She cleared her throat. “But is it worth it?”

“Do not ask me, Meledrin. Ask them.”

But even if Meledrin had been so inclined, it seemed that they had reached their destination. The procession had come to a halt and Flint was using the ini rituals to slowly confer with Brother Kalis and the ranking officer among the locals.

“The Master Chambers are about 50 meters away, around a couple of corners,” Flint reported to Meledrin eventually. “There are probably about a dozen guards— more in one group than we’ve faced so far.”

“What is it that you propose?”

Flint smiled.

Meledrin sighed. “You are going to rush around the corner and attack?”

He shook his head and donned a worried expression. “It’s a risky plan, Mel, but if that’s what you want us to do...”

“Very amusing, Flint. You do as you see best but we have lost one too many people—” She looked at the hurgon. “We have lost far too many people already today.”

“I know. It’s not as if we have a lot of time though. Joku there says there’s a back entrance, but it ain’t a secret so the En’kumo will have guards there as well.”

“Very well.”

Flint nodded and went to organize the attack. A few minutes later he returned.

“We’re going to leave you with Amy and—”

Amy McCree grunted. “Like hell you are.” She bared her crooked teeth in a snarl. “I’m coming, too.”

Flint looked at her, pursed his lips and looked around as if looking for other options.

Topper stepped forward. He had one of the hurgon weapons on his arm. “The brothers are staying here?”

“Yeah, can’t risk them.”

Topper nodded. “Me and the boys have got guns.” He turned and indicated the dwarves. Hoodek, Mintar and Dogar all had weapons as well, though none of them looked comfortable. Nina was unarmed and looked even more uncomfortable. “We can hold the bastards for a while if we have to while the brothers work something out.”

Flint gave a reluctant nod. “Right then. Come on Amy.” He looked at the dwarves before turning to look at Meledrin again. “This shouldn’t take long, one way or the other.”

* * *

Scree woke instantly but didn’t know why. He lay still, listening. Then there was a knock at his door.

“Yeah.”

The door slid open. Brick Dunning stood in the opening. “Thorpe sent me to get you.”

“What’s the time?”

The big man shrugged. “Early.”

“What’s happening?”

“Kim’s awake.”

Scree surged to his feet. He was ready to run from the room before he realized he was naked. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Good idea,” Brick said, smiling and turning away. He never seemed to be in a hurry.

When he was dressed, Scree did hurry. He ignored the lifts and took the stairs three at a time. He almost knocked Thorpe from his feet when he entered the medical bay a minute later.

The soldier said something, but Scree didn’t even notice. Kim was sitting up, looking at the bandages on her hand. She looked up at the commotion.

“Scree.”

“Kim. You’re awake.” With an effort, Scree slowed his breathing. “You’re awake.” He wondered if his relief was visible to everyone else. It felt like it was leaking out his pores. Someone else to make the decisions. Someone else to think about all the problems he couldn’t get his head around. Kim awake— on it’s own, that was enough.

“I guess so.” She looked at herself as if listing her injuries. “What happened? I mean... I mean after...” She waved a bandaged arm.

“That don’t matter at the moment. Plenty of time for stories later. You’s all right?”

She nodded, though she didn’t look sure. “I think so. I mean, it looks like nothing all that serious happened in the end. Did it?’

Scree shook his head. “Nothing too serious. Nothing permanent.”

“That’s good. I feel pretty good.”

“Good.” Scree didn’t really know what to say. He nodded and looked at Kim’s bandaged hand. “Cuto got to us just in time.”

“Cuto?”

“Yeah. Cuto saved us. Broke us out then flew us back to the Hakahei on the back of a baby kidol.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Was kinda fun.”

“Sorry I missed it then.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Nobody said anything for a while. Scree looked around and realized that both Thorpe and Brick had left the medical bay. Only Kafin and Paul Manning remained— either sleeping or unconscious.

“So what’s going on? Where the hell are we?”

“We’s messengers. Keeble organized a contract that could ends the war but we had to come to another planet to get it signed by a Grandmother. But nows the multeese is here and we don’t knows why.”

“Did they follow us?”

Scree shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. We’re still trying to figure everything outs.” And now it was Kim’s problem.

“So why aren’t we dead? If the multeese are here, I mean?”

Scree shrugged. “We don’t knows that either. The multeese is sending down ships but they don’t seem keen on killing any ones. They’s just hanging around at the moment.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” And even standing there talking to Kim, it had him worried. As if maybe the aliens were working up to some amazing thing that would wipe out the whole planet in a single moment— a moment that he couldn’t even fight, let alone win.

“So... Can I get up?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think you should—”

“Ask, Thorpe. Where’s Captain Thorpe?”

Scree was going to tell her she wasn’t going anywhere, but he needed her up and about. He needed her to work out what the hell was going on. So he went out into the hall looking for the soldier. And from there into the mess. Thorpe was sitting at a table cradling a cup of coffee.

“Kim wants to get up.”

“I’m not sure.” He sighed and, taking his mug with him, returned to the medical bay.

“Come on, Doc,” Kim said before he was even in the door. “You know I’m fine.”

Scree stayed near the door, leaning in the corner while Thorpe checked this and that and asked questions about a whole heap of stuff that didn’t seem relevant.

Fifteen minutes later Thorpe sat down on the bench. “It isn’t going to make any difference if I say no, is it?”

“It might. For a little while.”

“Okay then. You can get out of bed, but only if you stay in a wheelchair.”

“That’ll just be a pain—”

“No, it won’t. You have a broken foot, a bad knee, broken ribs, a recently dislocated shoulder and a broken hand. Walking will be a pain. Using crutches will be a pain.”

“All right then. Just shut up and give me the damn wheelchair.”

“We’ve got to find it.”

Kim raised her eyebrow. “This is going to take a week to find, isn’t it?”

“No. I’ve seen it somewhere.”

“What’s a wheelchair?” Scree asked.

“Just what it sounds like. A chair on wheels.”

“Right.” Scree checked with the trolls who were awake. “Chip says it’s in the hold. He’s going to bring it up.”

“Thanks, Scree.”

Scree smiled. “No worries.”

Chip brought the wheelchair in a few minutes later and Scree watched as Thorpe helped Kim carefully out of bed. “Don’t get up,” he told her. “Not to look out of the window, not to climb up to your seat on the bridge. You can hop into bed, and that’s it.” It sounded as if he wasn’t confident of being obeyed. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Shit. Bugger off then, I’ve got patients to look after.”

15: Forgotten

Tuki followed as the trolls and hurgon went slowly around the first corner and down a short hallway. They paused for a moment at the next corner then rushed around as one, shouting as they went. Tuki followed a moment later, after the initial clatter of weapons, and saw Ruby clobber an En’kumo guard in the face. Her eyes were wild, her grin was fierce. First one down, she turned to another, knocking away its weapon and elbowing it in the stomach. Then she used her weapon the way it was intended and shot it in the face.

Blood sprayed and Tuki quickly ducked back behind the protection of the wall. He knew Ruby was a troll and he knew what trolls were like, but it was still a shock to know that Ruby was like that. It was a shock to see the violence in her eyes. It was a shock to see how easily the death and destruction came from her. He leaned back, breathing deeply and trying to stop his shaking hands. He pushed them against his legs but it didn’t help. All it did was leave dark, bloody prints on his EVA suit.

Tuki heard Bones say, “That one spat at me. He spat. Probably should’ve tried using his gun. Might have done him more use.”

Tuki stayed where he was until the noises died down then looked carefully around the corner again. There were a dozen bodies on the floor and Tuki was glad to see that none of the trolls nor Amy were among them. He hurried across to Ruby.

“Are...” He had intended to ask if she had been hurt, but the wild look was still in her eyes and his swallowed his words. “Ummm...” He looked around and for the first time thought to be sorry for the six P’targa guards who had fallen. “Do we know their names?” he asked.

Ruby turned to look and Tuki watched as the fire receded from her eyes. She drew in a deep breath. “No. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Tuki said.

“It doesn’t matter to them, Tuki, why should it matter to us?”

And the surviving hurgon didn’t care. “It doesn’t matter what they think, Ruby. The multeese doesn’t care what happens to anybody. Should we think like that as well?”

Ruby didn’t reply. Brother Koli had been talking to somebody behind the door and latches and bars were being drawn. The door opened a crack, then further, and an ancient, stooped hurgon was revealed.

“Is that Grandmother Donni?” Tuki asked.

Meledrin’s voice startled him. “It is not,” the elf said from just behind him. “From the conversation Brother Koli just recently concluded, I gather it is merely a servant.”

They were ushered into the room. It was a huge place filled with tall, book-covered tables and shelves that overflowed with more things than Tuki could imagine. The walls were carved with scenes of hurgon and kidol, as well as kil’ini orbiting worlds. There were no hurgon waiting.

Beyond was a much smaller room. Tables and shelves had been upended to form a barricade in the corner where five hurgon stood guard, weapons ready. Behind the scant protection they offered were another four aliens, though one of them was obviously not a guard at all. It was older than all the others, with grey, patchy skin and yellow teeth. It was sweating and appeared to be in pain, but the gaze was steady and clear.

Tuki watched Meledrin step forward with Brother Koli and wondered what there was to say. They had the contracts and they needed to be signed, but Grandmother Donni knew all about those already. So there were greetings, and perhaps introductions, though Tuki did not know if either of those were particularly important in the circumstances.

Apparently Meledrin and the hurgon thought otherwise. For the next ten minutes they talked back and forth, waving their arms quicker than he could follow. And when they were done there were drinks of some kind. Flint carefully sipped the bright green liquid, then nodded and downed the rest of his cup. Meledrin took a cautious sip as well but did not go any further. Then the Brothers drank, as if this was the final sealing of the friendship that had been agreed to in the contracts.

Not that they were signed yet. It was another half an hour before that was done and Tuki could see that even Flint was getting restless. But the Grandmother had to get a daughter from another room to read the contract quickly. They commented and chatted about various sections before the older hurgon finally dipped her pen into some ink and put her name on the bottom of each one in big, blocky writing.

Tuki sighed. It was done. Though, of course, the signing of the contract didn’t mean all that much at all. It still had to be taken back to Hulgorn and entered into the... He didn’t really know what had to be done with it, but he knew it had to be done on Hulgorn. And the contract might not be enough to stop the war anyway. And he knew that the war with the hurgon was not the real problem. As Kim had been saying for a long time, the multeese were the problem and he could see no solution to the threat they posed.

Hurgon were dying. Soon, hakans would probably be dying as well. The multeese had been threatening to kill them for so long that they would probably set their mind to the task soon enough. And he could not believe, that if they finally decided to do the job properly, that Kim or Scree or anybody else would come up with a way to save them. And he could not actually believe they were still alive. The multeese could kill everyone on Lapenti and chose not to, for some reason.

Nobody knew very much about the multeese at all. Just one small file...

Tuki swallowed. He suddenly realized he had not told anyone about the information he had discovered. He cleared his throat. “Flint?” he said softly, hoping Meledrin would not hear.

“Yeah, Tuki?”

“There is something I should have told someone before.”

The troll narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Tuki swallowed again and told Flint about the files on the ship and the small amount they told about the multeese.

“So, they’re made out of gas?”

Tuki nodded. “Or many tiny creatures join together to form a multeese.” Tuki didn’t really understand if they were one creature or many and it was obvious that nobody else did either.

Flint shook his head. “You really should’ve told someone about this, Tuki.”

“A lot has been happening.” Though he knew it was not a very good excuse.

“We need all the information we can get, Tuki. And I can’t even tell Scree about it.”

Tuki was saved from further admonishment when Grandmother Donni dropped a pile of papers.

“Is Donni well?” Meledrin asked, looking concerned.

“Donni is well enough,” the Grandmother signed, slow enough for Tuki to follow. It appeared as if she didn’t have the energy for more.

“What ails Donni?” Meledrin asked.

“It is no ailment at all, Meledrin. Donni is changing, becoming Givtar. It is many years since Donni last changed and it is having more of an effect than is common.”

“Changing?” Meledrin asked.

But Donni did not have the energy to reply and the other hurgon did not have the desire. So Tuki explained what Hiklo had told him. Perhaps he should have passed this information on earlier as well.

“Donni is preparing to breed?” Meledrin asked the Grandmother when Tuki had finished.

“That is correct. Donni is old and close to death and wished to produce one more hatchling to help bring P’targa greatness in this time of change.”

“Is there risk for Donni?”

“Donni does not know. It is not often hurgon as old as Donni go through the change.”

“You should not—”

Grandmother Donni waved away Meledrin’s protest. “It is done. If P’targa are to go on, there must be Givtar and Symbo. Donni will assist.”

Tuki shook his head. If the P’targa were to go on there must be an end to the war and an end to the multeese. Anything else, including standing in this room while the world continued to turn, was not helping.

16: Processing

Keeble woke with a start. He sat up and looked around. Ari was standing behind him with a cup of coffee held awkwardly in her broken hand and breakfast in the other.

“I brought you these.”

Keeble rubbed at his face. “Thank you. Is the kitchen working now?”

Ari nodded. “What have you worked out?”

“Well, it was 770 meters in a straight line. But to get through the streets is about 1200 meters.”

Air shrugged. “We will do what needs to be done. The factory is working at full speed now.”

“Great, but Scree helped get it down to about 900 meters.”

Ari looked at the map and the line Keeble had drawn there. “You’re just going to knock some holes in the buildings?”

“No. Over the roofs.” The coffee was fabulous. Strong, black coffee always made him feel better. “There’s some bits that are higher so we can’t go dead straight, but it’s a lot better.”

Ari nodded. “It’s a great idea.”

“I know. Isn’t it.” And food. Proper food instead of the horrible stuff in the packets. He ate quickly for a while as he tried to think of all the things he needed to do. “Do you want to come for a walk with me this morning? I have to go have a look at the mysterious factory to see if I can work out what it does.”

“Does it matter?”

“Apparently.”

He had a quick shower, which did almost as much good as breakfast, and when he emerged Ari was waiting.

A few minutes later they were making their way through the gateway into the hurgon compound. There were now fifteen guards on the door. None of them said anything but they watched closely. Keeble signed a, “Good morning,” but didn’t slow.

Keeble had studied the map enough to know the factory was on the far side of the compound but it took him a while to find his way through the maze of streets and alleys. Hurgon were removing supplies from storage sheds in courtyards and taking them inside. Machinery was being locked down. Shutters were being pulled out to cover windows and doors. They were working slowly and calmly, as if it was something they did every other week.

The hurgon stood aside to watch them pass. Ari kept her eyes on her boots but Keeble waved ini’ greetings. None of them replied. They all went back to work as soon as they had gone and not a word was spoken.

When they found the factory it was surrounded by a dozen hurgon who worked at getting it secured. Keeble found someone who looked like they were in charge.

“Keeble and Ari offer greetings.”

The hurgon regarded them suspiciously. “Uncle Gambo returns greetings.”

“Keeble and Ari would like to look at the factory.”

The hurgon stared. “Why? Gambo has been told of the hakan presence but has not been told if assistance should be given.”

“War is coming to this compound, Gambo. The factory is important to the enemy so Keeble wants to know what it’s for.”

“Gambo doesn’t know the purpose of the factory.”

“Keeble understands. That is why Keeble needs to look.”

“Gambo doesn’t think it would be allowed.”

“Does Gambo wish for P’targa family members to die? Does Gambo wish for the P’targa to incur cost during repairs?”

The hurgon looked at Keeble then over his shoulder to the factory. He motioned to the group that had been securing the door and, without a word, they started undoing the work they’d already completed. A few minutes later, Keeble and Ari were taken inside.

“So, what have we got?” Keeble muttered.

He went from room to room, from machine to machine, and wasn’t sure of much at all.

“It’s for processing some type of crop, right?” Ari said.

Keeble nodded.

“And it obviously starts at this end.”

Keeble nodded again.

The process started with crushing, but the press was huge. Twenty-four and a half meters to a side. Three meters, seventy centimeters high. The floor was a grate, so liquids could run through. The liquids went into the main piece of machinery and whatever happened in there involved the hydrogen. And the result was decanted into small metal barrels. The solid matter that couldn’t fit through the grate was scraped into a furnace to be disposed of.

Keeble stood at the end of the production line and examined the barrels. They were bright and shiny, obviously brand new, and filled most of a large room, stacked on shelves and packing pallets. Something about them bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. So he went back to examine the process again but it didn’t help any more the second time.

“Where do the materials come from?” Ari asked.

“What?” But Keeble knew what she meant. There was one small door into the press. Other than that... He looked up. A trapdoor took up most of the roof. But that didn’t tell them much. The materials came from a long way away, maybe, otherwise they wouldn’t have to be flown in? “I don’t know. I don’t bloody know.”

Keeble spent the next five minutes convincing Gambo to let him look at the workings of the main part of the machinery.

* * *

Meledrin looked around, as if the world would suddenly change now that the contracts were signed. As if all the problems would fade away. No such event occurred.

“Are you able to contact the ship, Flint?” Meledrin asked.

The troll shook his head and, for some reason, glanced at Tuki. “It’s too far.”

“What about you, Amy?”

The American had a mechanical radio attached to her head. “Like Flint says, too far. Or there’s the mountain in the way. Either way, no.”

Meledrin gave a small sigh before she could stop herself. She waved an Ending, followed quickly by a Beginning before wondering if there was really any difference.

At the table, Donni gave a tired hurgon nod and examined the piles of paper on the table as if wondering if there was anything else that needed to be done. It rested shaking fingers on the closest pile.

Flint cleared his throat and Meledrin turned to look. “What is it, Flint?”

“This guard here,” he said, motioning to one of the hurgon, “Brother Kripo as far as I can tell, wants us to take Donni with us. He reckons it’ll be safer. I could be wrong though, so can you find out if that’s what’s really going on?”

“Certainly.”

Meledrin checked with the guard and discovered that Flint’s interpretation had been correct. Before the guard had finished asking the question though, Grandmother Donni was complaining, saying she would not abandon any member of the P’targa family.

Meledrin thought it a strange sentiment. Surely the survival of the Grandmother was of vital importance. Donni could do nothing of value here, apart from die with all the others if the compound’s defenses were to fail.

The guard was about to comply with her wishes but Amy McCree laughed. “I suspect that’s your hormones talking Grandmother Donni,” she signed slowly. “If your givtar are anything like ours, then Donni is thinking about saving everyone. That cannot be done. The best thing for the P’targa is to have Donni thinking about the fight that will follow this one. The En’kumo and the T’loop are back on Hulgorn and for the P’targa, winning this battle is pointless unless that one is won as well.”

Grandmother Donni did not seem convinced. Meledrin could understand the hurgon’s sense of duty to assist all of the P’targa family, but she could also see the wisdom in what Amy was saying.

“If Grandmother Donni travels with the hakans to the Hakahei,” Meledrin signed, “Donni will be under no obligation to travel further. If nothing else, the fact that you are mobile may confuse the En’kumo.”

Flint grunted. “I wanted to know if that’s what the guard asked. I didn’t want to invite her along.”

“I am in charge, Flint,” Meledrin said, before realizing that Flint probably didn’t care one way or the other— about who was in charge or whether Grandmother Donni came with them.

While Meledrin had been speaking with the troll, Donni had been speaking with Brother Kripo.

“Donni will travel to the hakan construct,” Donni signed. “It will be a thing of great interest to see, if nothing else.”

Meledrin nodded. Flint grunted again.

Brother Kripo said, “Guards will accompany Grandmother Donni, of course, and a diversion will be created.”

“Is that absolutely necessary?”

Quartz and Bones laughed, and Meledrin realized it was a ridiculous question. She glared at the two trolls anyway, until they had their mirth under control.

“Come one then,” Flint said. “Let’s get this over with.” He started towards the door.

“Ummm...” Bones readied his weapon. “There’s a back door right? I heard someone mention a back door. Sometime. I’m sure they did. A back door, right?”

Meledrin heard weapons being fired in the entrance chamber. Half a dozen hurgon rushed in through the door. Meledrin jumped, hand to her racing heart, but they turned to take up defensive positions. She belatedly noticed their P’targa uniforms.

Quartz laughed again. “If the back door was usable, do you think they would’ve been holed up in here?”

“Good point,” Bones said. He jumped out from behind the wall and fired his weapon into the other room. A moment later he was protected again. “There’s a lot of the buggers out there. Lot’s of ‘em. What does Kim say? Shit loads? Yeah, shit loads. That does sound like a lot, doesn’t it?”

Meledrin swallowed. It certainly did sound like a lot. Especially when a troll said it.

17: The Front Door

Tuki felt like going to hide behind the barricade where the grandmother had been, but he stayed where he was, wringing his hands and looking around as if another exit might present itself, seeing he really needed it. There was another door, but Bones and Quartz had already decided it would not be of any use.

Nothing else appeared, so Tuki crouched down and waited to be told what to do. Ruby was already over by the door. She and the other trolls were taking turns to pop out from behind the cover of the wall, each on a different side, each at a different height, to shoot at the attackers. As far as Tuki could tell, that would only work for so long. Soon, the hurgon would just be able to each aim at a likely spot and wait until someone appeared in their sights.

The trolls seemed to realize this too— of course they would— and as they continued with their tactics, Flint also started organizing the next stage of the fight. He shouted orders that the hurgon— neither those outside nor their allies waiting at their backs— could understand. But Meledrin translated as the troll spoke and they organized themselves as well. Tuki was not paying any attention. Nobody was telling him what to do, so he watched and waited silently and rubbed at the comet tattoo on the back of his hand.

A minute later Flint gave a signal and everyone just rushed out into the other room. It wasn’t a very good plan as far as Tuki could tell. It seemed like one of the plans Flint joked about Keeble coming up with. But nonetheless it seemed to work.

Tuki watched Ruby rushing through the door, teeth bared in a snarl, guns shuddering in her hands. He barely recognized her, but hoped she was all right. A moment later there wasn’t much to see— just one small section of room through the door— so he closed his eyes and listened. Weapons firing. Shouts and screams. Grunting. Clatters and crashing.

Another scream, louder than most. Tuki opened his eyes. And through the door, in that one small section of room, he could see bodies on the ground. Three hurgon, all wearing the uniform of the P’targa. Two had fallen awkwardly, one atop the other, blood dripping from a knee to a chin. Cold, dead eyes staring. The third hurgon was sitting, slumped forward like he had sat down to rest for a moment then nodded off. Perhaps he had— there were no visible injuries to suggest otherwise.

A moment later, when the silence came, it was a shock. Tuki stayed where he was, waiting for the fighting to start again, and only rose to his feet when he heard Flint’s voice. He made his way slowly into the other room and looked around. There were twenty-three bodies in all, mainly En’kumo guards but there were also seven P’targa. And near the door, lying on her side, face twisted in a silent snarl, was Quartz. All Tuki could do was stare.

“Are you all right, Tuki?”

Tuki felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ruby standing by his side. He shook his head. “No, I am not all right.” There was the taste of vomit in his mouth. He shrugged off her hand and staggered over to a wall so he could lean back against it and make sure he stayed at least partially upright. His bloody hands were stinging. So were his eyes.

Ruby followed him. “Tuki, I—”

“Quartz has died. How can I be all right?” He glanced at the body before quickly looking away. “How can you just pretend it didn’t happen?”

Ruby looked at the body too. “I ain’t pretending it didn’t happen. I don’t have to because right now I’m not even thinking about it. Kim reckons trolls was bred to not think about that type of thing. If we think about it we won’t do what needs to be done. But that ain’t what you want to hear, is it? You just thinks I don’t care ‘cause I ain’t crying.”

Tuki didn’t say anything, he didn’t move, but something must have shown on his face.

Ruby grunted and shook her head. “Why don’t you just count your bloody planets and stars and leave the hard stuff up to us? You just worry about your rocks and your fires and we’ll deal with the people.” She walked away, skirting around bodies as she made her way over to Bones, who was standing over Quartz’s body, but not looking at it. The two of them stood together and for the first time ever, Bones stayed silent for a long time.

Across the other side of the room, near the door out into the hallway, Flint and Meledrin were talking with Grandmother Donni and the commander of her guards. Tuki had no idea what they were saying, but as before, he would be told what he needed to do. So he waited, back against the wall, hands shoved under his arms to stop them from shaking.

* * *

“You don’t know what what is for?” Kim asked. She’d pushed one of the chairs away from the dining table and parked her wheelchair in its place. She wanted to get up and pace but stayed where she was, hands on the table, fiddling. She had tried getting up to change chairs, despite Thorpe’s warnings, and discovered for herself that it really wasn’t a good idea. Damn him.

Keeble sighed. “Ari and I went to have a look at the plant but we couldn’t work out what it’s for.”

“What plant?” Kim asked. “Are they growing drugs or something? Is that what the multeese want?”

“Not that type of plant. A manufacturing plant. A processing plant.”

“Oh, right.”

Keeble tapped his metal arm on the table. “There something very strange about the whole thing but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, does it matter?” Kim asked. It probably did but Kim was having trouble keeping up with even the simplest conversation.

It was Scree who answered this time. “Maybe. Maybe not. If the plant’s got somethings to do with why the multeese is here then knowing what it is might help.” The troll glanced at Stone and Crystal sitting at a table on the far side of the mess hall. “And right now we needs all the help we can gets cause nobody’s got any ideas.” He obviously wasn’t happy about that.

“At least it might protect us for now,” Kim said.

“How’s that?”

“If the multeese want those plants maybe they won’t be willing to shoot us when we’re so close.”

“Or maybe they just wants them destroyed?”

“Well… couldn’t they do that from space?”

Keeble interrupted. “It’s no use worrying about it. We just have to work out how we defend the compound and the ship for the next couple of days.”

“What, and then we just take off and leave them?” Nobody gets left behind.

Scree nodded. “We can’t die here with the hurgon just because we feels guilty. We got to live so we can kill the bloody multeese. If that means we spend the next year running while we think of a plan then that’s the way it is.”

“Everyone could die in a year.”

Keeble was winding the gears on his hand.

“And how does we help that if we dies tomorrow?” Scree asked.

“Well...” Kim grabbed the wheels of her chair and moved back from the table with a violent jerk. She spun around awkwardly. She was about to head for the door but stopped and looked around instead. “Inaki,” she called. The moai looked up from where he was talking with Peni. “Come here and push me.”

Kim took a deep breath. Inaki didn’t deserve that. “Sorry, Inaki,” she said. Another deep breath. “Can you please push me?” She looked back over her shoulder. “I need the company of somebody nice for a while.”

Inaki rushed over and pushed her from the room.

* * *

Tuki walked in the middle of the group. He didn’t know if he should keep his eyes ahead or watch his back. In the end he didn’t really do either. He was so busy worrying that he didn’t see anything at all.

He was just starting to calm his racing heart when he bumped into the back of Palsamon as the elf came to a sudden stop.

“Careful, Tuki.”

“Sorry. What is happening?”

Palsamon shook his head. “I am unsure. However, Flint has come to a halt at the intersection.”

Tuki watched as Flint conferred with those closest to him. Then they called forward half the hurgon from the rear guard. A moment after they arrived, Bones darted across the adjoining hall. There was the crackle of hurgon weapons, shouts, but even limping, Bones was too quick. A moment later, En’kumo guards came into view, heading after the troll. Tuki closed his eyes and heard a rain of gunfire mingling with a couple of seconds of hurgon weapons. When he opened his eyes the En’kumo were dead. Eleven of the aliens were piled haphazardly, bleeding onto the stone floor.

Swallowing, Tuki took a step forward but Palsamon held his arm. Flint and the others had not moved either. Before Tuki could ask what was going on he heard a shout from around the corner. He was sure it was Bones, though the troll had not returned. And at that moment, Flint and his companions rushed around the corner. More gunfire, over as quickly as last time.

This time, Tuki moved with everyone else. Around the corner, Bones was talking with Flint, probably taking five minutes to say what could be said in a sentence. Then Flint and Brother Kripo started walking and everyone else had no choice but to follow.

Down one hallway that looked no different to the one before. And then another. Tuki never got lost, he knew directions and distances like Keeble knew machines, like Ping knew clocks, but the succession of passages was mind numbing. He’d heard trolls say that they never got lost either. He wondered if that was something to do with the ‘engineering’ Kim claimed had been done on the different hakan races, or was it something that had come to them at a later stage. Had science given them the ability, as it had been given to him, or was it life? And now, after all these years, did it matter? He looked back at Ruby where she walked with the rearguard. They were who they were, and no amount of explaining would change the fact, though it might change the reasons.

Tuki sighed and tried to concentrate. He might not get lost, but he could still get shot, or trip over. Any mistake here, in this crazy hostile place, could get him killed. He looked back at Ruby again. The soft, smoldering embers of the fire were still in her eyes as she scanned their surroundings. She glanced at strange hurgon loitering in hallways, cocked her head at the slightest sound, taking everything in. The fire in her eyes might mean death for others, but meant life for her friends and her companions. Tuki knew that— and for her current task the reasons didn’t matter— but wasn’t sure if he could continue to see her as he had before.

18: A Green Ribbon

Ping tried to gather her thoughts as she turned her attention to Tess. “I’m not sure what’s first on the list.” She’d checked the computers the night before, prioritizing the faults on the ship, but the sight of Kim in the wheelchair had driven all thoughts from her head. “Ummm...”

“I’m glad Kim’s awake,” Dido said. She stopped playing with the green ribbon tied in her hair and took Ping’s hand.

Ping was glad too, but Kim obviously wasn’t her old self. When Inaki wheeled her out of the room, Ping took a deep breath. “Let’s go take a look.”

In the engineering bay, Mintar was already working on the computer. He looked up as Ping entered and snatched his hands away from the keyboard as if doing something he shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just looking at the problems. Working out what we can do.”

“Don’t be sorry, Mintar,” Ping replied. “We need to get this stuff fixed as quickly as we can.”

“I’m not a Gang Leader though...”

“All that matters now is that we have work that needs doing.”

“Right.” He turned back to the screen. “You’ve already put this in order?”

“Yes.”

“Right.”

But she didn’t know how many people Keeble needed, if any, for collecting the fuel. “The fuel still is really the only thing stopping us from flying now. Why don’t we get Tasko, Bargle and Dosa to work on that?”

Mintar nodded. “Then the Ohoga engine and the air recycler. Do you want me to sort something out?”

“That would be great. Thanks. I’ll take Tess, Dido and Ari to look at clock number 2.” They were the four main things at the moment. Get them sorted out and she would feel a lot better.

“Ari’s sleeping.”

“What?”

“She was working at the foundry all night. Then she went to look at the stupid factory with Keeble.”

Right. Tess and Dido would have to do then.

The two dwives had already found some tools and were waiting for Ping to join them by the door.

“Come on.”

She led the way down to the clock and opened the access panel. Once inside, she stopped to stare. It looked as if there had been an explosion in here as well, though there was really nothing that could explode.

“What happened?” Dido asked.

Ping shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe... There must have been a loose cog or something and once it fell off things just kept going with it.”

It was a mess. At least a tenth of the clock was lying on the floor. Some had actually broken and might be beyond repair. Everything was so mixed up it might take a week to sort out. Ping suddenly wasn’t sure if she should bother. Perhaps it would be better to work on something they could actually get fixed in time and hope the other clock didn’t malfunction as well.

“We won’t do this now. Dido, you and I are going to check on the other clock to make sure it doesn’t fall apart too. Tess, you go and see if Mintar needs your help, or needs you to do something. And tell him what we’re doing, please.”

“Very well.”

“I could go and help Mintar,” Dido offered, reaching for the ribbon in her hair again. But Tess was already heading out through the access panel.

“At least this should be an easy enough job.”

Up above the engineering bay in Clock 1, Ping set down the toolbox and looked around. Everything appeared to be fine, but she intended to check every screw and every bolt she could get to without pulling things apart. She set to work and, after a moment of hesitation, Dido did as well. They worked in silence for three and a half minutes.

“Ping,” Dido said. She stopped working and touched her green ribbon. “Why don’t you like Topper?”

Ping thought it was a very strange question. “I do like Topper.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“Well, no but...” Ping almost dropped her screwdriver. She sat down on the toolbox. “Topper...”

“You didn’t know?” Dido asked.

Ping shook her head. But it was obvious when she thought about it. How could she not have noticed?

“Everyone else knows.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ping said. “That’s very helpful.”

Dido turned her concentration to her spanner and tightened a bolt holding a ratchet lever to the wall, though she didn’t really look like she was interested. “How did things like that work on your world?” she asked eventually.

Ping shook her head to try to clear it. “How did what work?”

“Men and women? You know...”

“Relationships?” Ping said. “Courting?” Topper was with Meledrin. It was the most dangerous mission, if only because it took them away from any chance of help.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. There weren’t any rules. It worked however people wanted it to work. Somebody asked somebody else to have dinner with them. Or they went on a picnic, or they went dancing.”

“Oh.” Dido was playing with her hair again, twisting the strands between her fingers.

“How did it work for dwarves?”

“A dwarf went to the maiden bunker or a hotel and told a dwife to get her things. And they went to the dwarf’s bunker and...”

“And that’s it? You were told what you had to do?”

“Sometimes, if the dwarf didn’t want the dwife to move into his bunker straight away, he would give her a ribbon so everyone knew she was spoken for.” She seemed to notice the ribbon in her hair for the first time and quickly pushed the locks behind her ear. “Then he would come to visit when he wanted to see her.”

“That’s terrible.”

Dido shrugged. “The only other choice was to stay in the maiden bunker and... Well, we did what we were told even if we weren’t spoken for.”

“Well, it won’t be like that here. Kim won’t allow it.” Topper had never tried to tell her what to do. He was probably as confused as Dido was. All the dwarves probably were. “I guess it will work however you want it to work, Dido.”

“So the dwives will have all the power?”

“Only if they want to.” Ping didn’t feel like she had any power at all. She examined the screwdriver in her hand, then sighed and got back to work. “Who is he?” she asked.

“Who is who?”

Ping looked up and Dido was playing with the ribbon once more. The dwife pushed her hair back over her shoulder and started working as well.

* * *

Tuki swallowed and edged back against the wall of the hallway. There were still En’kumo guards at the train station.

“There’s ten of them,” Flint said softly. “Not many.”

Tuki nodded to himself and watched Meledrin translate for the hurgon. Ten really wasn’t many. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little. Flint, Bones and Ruby could probably handle ten unarmored hurgon on their own.

“Do we want to kill them?” Bones asked. “I think we want to kill them but that might be dangerous.” The troll divided his glance between Meledrin and Flint. “Maybe we want to sneak onto the train. Could we sneak onto the train, do you think?”

Tuki had no doubt that they would be able to sneak onto the train if they really wanted. But getting onto the train wasn’t the hard bit. Keeping the En’kumo away long enough to get the train started was the problem. He didn’t know much about trains, but he knew you couldn’t just jump in one and leave immediately unless someone had prepared the train first.

Topper said as much. “The train is idle and cold,” he said. “It’s going to take a while to get it going.”

“How long?” Flint asked.

Topper shrugged and looked at Hoodek. “Half an hour, Hoodek?”

The younger dwarf nodded, shrugged and nodded again. “Not sure. Sounds like it might be about right. Got to heat the water and...”

Meledrin had been translating into the ini’ rituals and cleared her throat. “Brother Kripo is under the impression that there will be a preheated reservoir in this vicinity precisely for this application.”

Topper nodded. “That’ll help, obviously, but we’ll still need to get rid of those hurgon, one way or the other. Where is this reservoir?”

Meledrin asked. “Brother Kripo is unsure. None of the others know either. They are guards, not train drivers.”

“Right. Of course. So, none of them can drive?”

“No.”

Topper smiled at Hoodek and Dogar. “That’s a shame.”

Flint grunted. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” He hefted his weapon and looked at those who would be fighting with him. “You dwarves better stay back here. The rest of you, let’s just run out there and do it. We don’t have time to find better positions.”

Tuki sat down on the floor to wait. He glanced at Ruby. She didn’t look scared, and perhaps had no reason to be. Hurgon were slow compared to trolls, and the En’kumo defending the train station were going to be surprised. They might well all be dead before they even raised their weapons. Tuki wondered if he should say something. Be careful. But then she was gone and it was too late.

The familiar sounds. The clatter of gunfire. Shouts and screams. The sizzle of hurgon weapons. And then silence.

Palsamon carefully poked his head around the corner to look.

“Be careful, Palsamon,” Meledrin said. She half reached for him, then withdrew her hand.

“It is all clear.”

Tuki followed the elf around onto the platform, trying not to look at the bodies. They all belonged to the En’kumo, but did that make it any better, really? Nui said that all lives were equal. But like the moai, perhaps all Nui knew was Danyon Ford. Perhaps Nui had never looked beyond the desert to see that there might be more out there. Or not beyond Kiva, or the seven linked worlds of the hakans.

Tuki made his way to the train behind Meledrin. Ruby stood with the other trolls near the door. She smiled at Tuki. He gave a small smile in return but climbed on board and found a spot to sit with his back against the wall. The dwarves, along with Brother Koli had gone to look at the engine.

A few minutes later, Topper came through the door at the front. “The hot water tank is just up ahead a bit. There’s a hose so that won’t take long. We’ll have to heat it some more to get some pressure but it shouldn’t take too long.”

Tuki didn’t really understand, but as long as Topper knew what was going on.

“Flint,” the dwarf continued, “we should disconnect the other carriages. That’ll give us a bit more speed. Don’t know if it will be enough but...” He shrugged. “Can you do that?”

The trolls came onto the train and went to the rear door to see what they could see.

19: Left Behind

Scree stood on the top of the wall, hand flexing on the handle of his pistol. He could just see one of the multeese ships over the top of the hill. From where he was, it seemed that it alone would be enough to wipe out the hurgon compound. But he kept telling himself he didn’t know that for sure. Maybe engines took up half the ship. Maybe everything was taken up by fuel tanks because they knew how dumb it was to run out. There were so many maybes that it was stupid to think about them. There were other ships, further away but on the tops of hills, sitting like wolves, patient and ready to attack when the moment was right.

There was a noise behind him and he turned to see Stone bounding up the stairs. “What we got?” Scree asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothin’?”

Stone nodded. “Pretty much.” He looked out over the parapet to examine the ship as well. “Stinking cats.”

“That’s what I thoughts. But whats you mean by ‘nothing’?”

“Well there’s a small garrison here but it’s next to pointless. Fifty hurgon with armor. And there’s six of them kidol with the bits for riding in. Other than that there’s four bigger guns— one on each wall.”

“Range?”

“No.”

“No?”

Stone shrugged. “Lethal to naked hurgon at about a hundred meters. Armor might get you to within fifty meters, long as you’re walking forwards. And it takes a couple of minutes for them to recharge between shots, or something like that. “

“What’s the use of them then?”

“There’s some big animals round these parts. They still come out to play occasionally, when it’s dry or whatever.”

“Right. So how long to make some more?”

“It takes these stupid buggers all night to make one piece of pipe, remember? The cousin at the garrison reckons a couple of weeks at least.”

“So we’re screwed then?”

“Screwed like a whore at a love-god festival.”

“What about the guns on the Hakahei?”

“Yeah, they might even hit that ship there. But they use battery power and it won’t do us much good if Keeble comes up with the fuel and we got no batteries anyway.”

Scree opened his mouth to speak but Stone continued.

“There’s also the fact that using those guns would probably get the attention of the mothership up there.”

Scree grunted. “Right. Last resort then.”

“I’d still like to know what’s going on with those bastards. Why ain’t we dead yet? Why aren’t the hurgon dead yet? I’m pretty sure when we find out the answer we’re going to wish we was.”

Scree wanted to know too. It didn’t make any sense, any way he thought about it. And he’d been thinking about it a lot. “Any other options?”

“We could leave.”

“If we could leaves, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I don’t mean on the Hakahei. Reckon we could survive on this world real easy without anyone even knowing.”

“I’m guessing you ain’t talking about everyone? Just a few of the others?”

Stone nodded and Scree gave the idea some thought. He’d abandoned companions quickly enough in the past when it suited. But he’d only ever abandoned trolls, and they had never offered anything other than more of what he already had himself. They’d had different names and different weapons, but they’d really just been him. These companions did offer something different. Even the trolls had gone beyond what they had been before. They offered strength and skill and courage, but more importantly, they offered respect and friendship. Without them, he was just a troll.

Scree glanced at Stone and shook his head. “Nobody gets left behind,” he said. And even as he said it, he realized it was the answer the other troll had been expecting. It was the answer he wanted to hear. “So, what else we gots? I know you is holding back something.”

Stone turned to lean back against the dusty brown stones of the parapet. “Chasm went to have a look with Makar. Apparently they got enough stuff lying around to make a handful of catapults.”

“How long for them?”

“Makar reckons he could have the first one ready in about two hours if he had a couple of other dwarves and a dozen hurgon. Range of a hundred meters or more.”

“Burning cats. Catapults?” Scree looked at the pistol in his hand. “Catapults. Go on then, get them started.”

“They’re already been working for half an hour.”

“And ammunition?”

“They convinced some hurgon to knock down a building or two to get some rocks.”

“Catapults,” Scree muttered. He looked at the ships again and wondered how long Keeble was going to take with the fuel.

He stood and looked out at the ships for a long time and eventually came to the conclusion he was going to have to revert to his original plan. Inaki was watching the multeese ships at the moment and the aliens seemed content to stay where they were, for a while at least. He was going to go and have a closer look while he had the chance.

* * *

Tuki sat on his own. Ruby looked his way, occasionally, but stayed with Amy and talked. Everyone else was either talking or sitting quietly.

When the train started to move, they all fell silent. A minute later, Hoodek came through the front door, rubbing a soot-stained hand through his spiky hair.

“We’re going the wrong way,” Flint said before the dwarf had a chance to say anything.

“We know that. Topper’s taking us to the far side of the compound. At least that way we can have about two kilometers of run up before we get out in the open.”

“Oh. Right. Good idea.”

“We will not be turning around?” Meledrin asked.

Hoodek shook his head. “Well, maybe if there’s somewhere to do it, but that’s unlikely. Doesn’t matter anyway— we can go just as fast backwards as forwards.”

“If you are sure.”

“We are. I reckon everyone should sit down and hang on.” He looked around as if checking to see that everyone had taken his advice.

The hakans were already sitting and the ten hurgon who were coming along were holding onto the seating T’s. That probably wouldn’t be safe but who was going to order Grandmother Donni to sit down?

Tuki held on, though he supposed it would be a while before anything dangerous happened. They hardly moved above walking speed, but five minutes later the train came to a stop with a loud screech and a hiss of steam. And for a while they didn’t move. Then the train lurched in the other direction. Paused and lurched again. This time it kept moving, slowly gathering speed. Tuki closed his eyes and listened.

He could understand something of the delight the dwarves took in machines. The Hakahei was cold and clean— at least the parts Tuki had anything to do with— but the train was a different thing. It was almost as if it were alive. When it was cold and silent or sitting still at the station, belching smoke out into the air, it was an ugly, brooding thing. But it had two lives. Once it was moving, it breathed and hissed and chugged and rattled as if it had made up it’s mind and wanted something and would not stop until it got it. Even from inside the carriage it seemed to be all power and inevitability.

Tuki didn’t want to know what was inevitable about this journey. He closed his eyes and hung on, waiting for whatever was to come.

Even with his eyes closed, Tuki knew when they had broken free of the compound and were out in the open air. The light on his eyes was almost painful after all the hours in the dim, gas-lit hallways. The sound of the train changed as well, the echoes left behind them and the open silence of the day welcoming them.

For a long time, Tuki stayed as he was, eyes closed, knees drawn up to his chest. Nobody else was saying anything so he had no idea what was happening. But the train was thundering on, pushing the carriage towards safety or towards death. And it was all out of Tuki’s hands. He was doing all he could do; keeping out of the way and praying.

Eventually he opened his eyes. Everyone was where they had been last time he looked. The hurgon were still standing. Ruby was sitting with Amy. Meledrin and Palsamon together. Flint and Bones, next to each other but on two different worlds.

And above their heads, out the window, Tuki could see five kidol and each one was dropping their bombs almost as fast as they could. Normally the outer two of the three cylinders strapped to the creatures’ bellies were full of soldiers, but Tuki thought they must have been left behind in favor of the weapons. He saw a dozen, two dozen bombs drop towards the ground. And more over there. From his spot on the floor he could feel the detonations, just, over the rumbling of the train, and he could see the plumes of smoke rising into the air, but he did not know if any of the multeese were dying. He hoped they were and the hope did not make him feel guilty. He glanced at Ruby.

Though he could not see them, he knew there were multeese on the ground for they were firing back at the kidol. Bones noticed the results as Tuki did. Or more likely, finally voiced the fact when Tuki noticed.

“Them multeese guns not doing much,” he said.

Flint nodded.

“Maybe the guns aren’t designed for killing,” Ruby offered.

“The multeese do not want to kill the hurgon?” Tuki found that hard to believe. He knew the trolls thought it strange that the multeese did not simply kill everyone from space, but to have weapons that didn’t even kill? That was crazy.

Flint nodded. “Maybe.” But the look on his face suggested he thought the same as Tuki. “They haven’t done much about killing anyone so far, have they?”

A kidol screeched, somehow heard above all the other noise, and plummeted to the ground. Apparently the guns could do enough.

The train thundered on.

* * *

Keeble stepped into the heat and noise of the workshop and immediately felt better. He knew that would only last until he found out how slow the work was going, so he stood near the door for a moment to enjoy the feeling.

It was almost like being back in Tab Cavern. Most of the factories there worked around the clock. And if what they normally made wasn’t required, they’d quickly convert the machinery to making something else. That break in proceedings, the mad rush to work out the fastest, cheapest, best way to make the changes, was a process Keeble used to enjoy even more than the usual slow grind of production. But that was a lifetime ago and all he wanted now was a kilometer of piping to move some hydrogen. Was it too much to ask?

Makar emerged from a smoky corner. He was wiping his hands on an already oily rag and shouting at some unseen assistant. He saw Keeble and growled one last instruction before coming over to talk.

“That doesn’t look good, Makar,” Keeble said to the older dwarf.

“Nothing around here is good.”

Keeble raised an eyebrow.

Makar sighed. “We were running ahead of schedule. We’ve got nearly 200 meters of pipe ready to go, but now the main furnace has got a two foot long crack.”

“You’re joking?”

Makar grunted. “No.”

“So, how long?”

“I told you, two foot.” He wiped his hands some more. “That was a joke.”

Keeble raised an eyebrow.

Makar sighed. “Milo and Drago are discussing it with the foreman at the moment.”

“And?”

“If the discussion finishes any time today I reckon it’ll be at least eight hours after that until we can be up and running again.”

“You’re joking.”

“Still no.”

“So...”

“So, we’ve got 400 meters of pipe— that includes the 200 meters that was already here— that should be put in position as soon as possible. No use it sitting around here.”

“Right. Of course. I’ll get some people onto it straight away.”

“Good. I’ll keep hitting my head against the wall here.” Makar shook his head. “We were doing so well.”

“Is it possible—”

The older dwarf held up a hand and cut him off. “Don’t even say it. We were running above capacity and that’s what caused the failure. I knew it was a possibility but I thought it was worth the risk.”

“It wasn’t an accusation, Makar. Just a question. I would have done the same thing.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Wouldn’t help me either. Just see what you can do.” Keeble looked around but there probably wasn’t anything more he could do about the pipes. “How are the catapults coming along?”

“Two are being carried up onto the walls as we speak. It will still be an hour before they’re set up, at best, but they’re going better than expected.”

“Good. Keep going. And let me know if you need more people.”

20: Attack and Defense

Ping sat back and wiped sweat from her forehead. She wasn’t sure what the day outside was like, but in the confines of the clock it was hot and humid. Dido was out of sight, working on the tangor assembly on the far side of the room. Ping was about to call out to see if she wanted a drink when Keeble stuck his head in through the access hatch.

“How’s it going in here, Ping?”

“Not bad. We’re just doing a check to hopefully stop anything from falling apart. We don’t have time to fix the other clock yet.”

“Oh, right.”

“It all looks pretty good, so far.” Ping let out a huff of breath and looked around. “Maybe we should go help with the Ohoga engine or something.”

“I was just talking to Drago. I think he’s got that under control. And the fuel still is just about done as well.”

“So it’s all under control then?”

“Pretty much. I was just talking to Makar about the catapults. He didn’t mention needing help but...” The dwarf shrugged.

“All right, then.”

When Keeble left, Ping rose to her feet and stretched. She packed away her tools, but left the toolbox on the floor. “Dido, I’m going to help with the catapults. You stay here and keep checking.”

The dwife, mouth full of screwdriver, waved over her shoulder as she continued to work and Ping ducked out into the passageway. It was very quiet, but she supposed everyone was working somewhere, adding to the great machine that would let Keeble and Meledrin do the only two jobs that really mattered. Get the contracts and get the hydrogen. It felt strange that everything could come down to two such simple things. She sighed and headed down to the hold and from there to the compound.

The Hakahei was quiet but the compound was bustling with activity. Half the hurgon were wandering around in a daze, the other half all seemed to be doing something vitally important. Some were pulling wagons filled with what could only be ingredients for the pipe factory. Others had timber that could possibly be used for barricading windows and doors. They were all going somewhere.

It took a while for Ping to find out where the catapults were being made, and even then it was only because she bumped into Gulch heading the other way. He pointed her in the right direction then continued on, muttering to himself.

In a square, not far from the factory, the dwarves had set up a range of machines and jigs and were bustling around the bones of a catapult. Another was taking shape in an assembly area.

Ping looked around. “Milo, what can I do?”

Milo looked up for a moment then looked back to the task he’d been working on. He swung his mallet two more times, driving a wooden peg into a hole, joining two large sections of timber that would form part of a frame. When he was finished he wiped his hands on his trousers and looked around. “I’m not sure there’s much you can do, Ping. Most of this isn’t really skilled labor and the hurgon are handling it pretty well. They’re just making pegs and fitting pieces together at the moment. The production line is running pretty smoothly.”

Cuto had already taken up the mallet and was working on the next peg with the slow, steady determination shown by all hurgon.

“You could try Tasko,” Milo continued. “He’s building a crane on the wall near the Hakahei.”

So Ping went back the way she’d come. She got turned around in the streets again but eventually found the outer wall and from there it wasn’t hard to find the right gate. From down in the dust near the Hakahei she shaded her eyes and looked up at the top of the wall. Tasko was there, wide brimmed hat jammed down on his head, waving his arms as he tried to pass instructions to his hurgon work crew. Talus and Chip were there as well, but they probably didn’t know any more than the hurgon.

“Do you need some help, Tasko?” Ping called.

“Ping?” He took off his hat and swatted it against his thigh, sending out a cloud of dust. “Not really. Once I get this lot to understand degobar pulleys it will pretty much be done. They’ll probably be able to do the next one on their own.”

Ping didn’t know what a degobar pulley was. “Can I come up and have a look?” She had never given much thought to pulleys in the past, beyond the basics.

“Of course. If you want.”

She crossed to the ladder and climbed slowly, gritting her teeth every time the ropes swung or she bashed her knuckles against the wall.

But it wasn’t worth the effort. Not for the pulleys anyway. It was just a multiple pulley system that Tasko said was efficient and safe and had been used by the dwarves for centuries. But she listened to Tasko’s explanation and nodded in all the right places and tried to remember, in case she needed it for something in the future. And when the lesson was over she watched the hurgon erecting the crane for a while then went to sit on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over nothing. From up there, the ruins surrounding the Hakahei were obvious. Straight, narrow streets that seemed no more deliberate than those in the current compound. And there was a crater about thirty meters to one side. It was about twenty meters across and ten deep and looked totally out of place amidst the flat dusty desert of the rest of the ruins.

“That must be where the old gas works were,” Tasko said.

Ping jumped. She turned and saw the dwarf standing just behind her.

“There was an explosion. That’s why the compound’s in a different spot. The old one was almost completely destroyed.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Keeble was laughing about it because an explosion at the gas works destroyed one compound, so they went and built a new compound around the new gas works.”

Ping gave a small laugh too. “It doesn’t seem like the most sensible idea.”

“The hurgon just can’t seem to move forward.”

“Maybe they will now. With us here and...” She gestured vaguely. “The multeese.”

“Maybe.”

Ping sighed. “I suppose I should go and do something. Sitting here isn’t helping anyone.”

* * *

Scree sat back and put his feet up on the desk.

“So, you’re going to do this anyway?” Thorpe said. The human looked around at the others in the room, as if they might offer him support. They were trolls though, and the ones who weren’t going wished that they were. “It’s a worse idea now than it was before. You know that, right?”

Scree nodded. “I ain’t doing it for fun. We know nothing about the multeese. This is probably the best chance we’s going to get to find out.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s the best option. And one way or another, you certainly shouldn’t be going. What does Kim say?”

Scree shrugged.

“That’s what I thought. You haven’t told her.”

“She’s sleeping. I’d wakes her up but you said she needs to get lots of rest.”

“That may be, but she’s in charge and should have a say in a decision like this.”

“You’re right. You tell her about it when she wakes up.”

“I’ll tell her before you go.”

Scree shrugged. He wasn’t sure if Thorpe was serious and didn’t care. “Whatever.”

“So you’re going?”

“Soon as we’re ready.”

“How many?”

“Me and Yellow Troop.”

“That’s it?”

“Got to make sure we can hold the ship and the compound.”

“What about some dwarves, in case you need to work out how to fly the ship? And an elf, in case you decide to torture someone.”

“Good idea. Elf will have to be Suldon, obviously. And... Mintar, maybe.”

“I was joking.”

“Really? Weren’t funny.” Scree smiled. “Thorpe, you and Stone is in charge. We’ll need some of those explosives you got off the Americans.”

Thorpe sighed. “Get one of the trolls to talk to Tim.”

“Good.”

“Go on, then. The sooner you go the better.”

Scree rose to his feet and looked around at his companions. “Getting fuel is the priority. Make sure that happens. Come on Chasm, let’s go.” He called the rest of Yellow Troop in his head and asked them to find the two final members of the party. He wasn’t sure what Suldon and Mintar would think of being volunteered but he didn’t really care about that either.

He and Chasm stopped by the Weapons room to get body armor. By the time they made it down to the ground the others had already gathered. The trolls were checking their weapons and supplies. They were grim and focused. The other two were waiting silently, standing close and not looking all that comfortable.

“Peak informs us that we are going to look at one of the alien vessels.”

Chasm nodded. “Don’t want to come?”

Suldon shrugged.

Mintar said, “Suppose someone has to do it. Just hope I’ve been picked because you think I can do the job, not because I’m expendable.”

“Ain’t nobody’s expendable, Mintar,” Scree said. “You old enough to know how the world works and young enough to keep up, that’s why you picked.”

The dwarf laughed. He lifted the end of his long beard and kissed a green ribbon that had been tied there before pushing the hair back over his shoulder. “I won’t be keeping up and you know it,” he said.

21: Impossible to Kill

Scree looked out in the direction of the nearest ship, which he couldn’t see from down on the ground. “I doubt we’ll be running the whole way,” he said. “That’d be too much to hopes for.” He looked around to make sure everyone was ready. <Any action from the ships?> he asked in his mind.

Stone answered. <Nothing.>

<Right. Let me know if that changes.>

<Course.>

So they ran, following the rough, cobbled road that skirted along the bottom of the hill. After barely five hundred meters they swung around more to the west and climbed up through a shallow saddle. From there it was back down again, toward the next rough, gravel-strewn hill. They all looked pretty much the same.

<I got movement,> Stone said.

Scree pulled up in a hurry and looked around. <What’s happening?>

<Looks like a door opening but it’s hard to be sure.>

<That’s it?>

<At the moment.>

“Come on,” Scree said out loud. “If we take too long here we might be overrun.”

Everyone started to run again. By the time they’d made it past the next hill even Scree was breathing heavily. Stopping for a rest he pulled the flask from the pouch on his belt and took a drink.

Mintar sat down and leaned against the carved cliff beside the road.

“Don’t drink too much,” Pool warned as she drank too. She poured a little into her hand and wiped it over her head.

Peak sat down as well and Scree shook his head. “Think we’ll haves to see about doing some exercises on the ship. Should be able to run all the way to the damn multeese without stopping.” He took another swig.

<Aliens coming out, Scree. Shit load of them from three different doors. I got you over half way— about a kilometer out.>

<Theys marching or forming up?>

<Forming up.>

One more hill then. “Come on. We gonna have company soon.”

They turned aside from the road and climbed the side of the hill, sending down a small clattering landslide of stones with each step. Scree got down and crawled up to the crest. When he peered over the top he swore.

The ship was on the next hill. When Scree stood outside the Hakahei and looked up at it he found it hard to believe it could get off the ground. The multeese landing craft could have swallowed the Hakahei four times and still had room left for dessert. It looked like a strange insect with a dozen legs and long segmented tail. But if it was an insect it was blind for there was nothing that looked like a cockpit at the front, just a blank face with all sorts of equipment attached. There were all sorts of shapes stuck together with no purpose that Scree could see.

“What if it’s automated?” Mintar asked when Scree voiced his thoughts.

“What?”

“What if whoever’s in it doesn’t actually fly it? The Hakahei can be programmed to do things on its own— like point towards a certain heading. What if the whole ship is like that?”

Peak shrugged. “Them ain’t no windows in the kil’ini either, but the hurgon can see from inside.”

“Well, yeah, I know, but...”

“Chasm saw a window on the front of the big ship,” Chasm said.

“There you go, see,” Mintar said. “If they need a window to fly the other ship then why don’t they need one to fly this one?”

Peak shook his head. “That’s the point, Mintar. We got no idea, so don’t go making stuff up.” He hefted his pack. “Come on, Scree, what we doing? Can’t stand here all day.”

“Maybe not, but we can’t just go walking over there at the moment.” Scree examined the closest of the aliens as the others lined up around it. It had three legs and three arms and each limb had three joints. The right arm didn’t have a hand. It ended in a curved blade made from polished white bone. The left arm and hand looked like they were strong enough to crush rocks. The final arm, coming from the center of the chest— or what would be the chest if the alien was anything like a hakan— was small and delicate. It looked as if the whole body was covered in a hard shell, like a bug or a crab. The head was tall and tapered, ending in a crest of colored feathers, and could actually spin all the way around, like the bridge on top of the Hakahei. It was just about the weirdest thing Scree had ever seen and the others were basically the same. The feathers were different colors, but that was all. He figured there were about a thousand all up, but he didn’t know how to guess something like that accurately. There were lots, which was all he really needed to know. <Can you see this, Stone?>

<Not great. More than I want to though, I suppose.>

<Tell me about it. All those landers... That’s a damn lot of aliens.>

“What you thinking, hey, Scree?” Gulch asked.

Scree shook his head. “I’m thinking we got problems. Other than that...”

There was no signal, no order that Scree could hear, but as one the aliens started to move. They headed down towards the road in a column that kicked up a storm of dust in the still morning air. They marched in perfect unison, each arm held at a precise angle, each feathered crest fanned out brightly. The thudding of their feet set the ground to shaking.

“Hey, let’s go,” Gulch said.

“Where we going?” Mintar asked.

“Inside, of course. Where else, hey?”

Suldon shook his head. “I believe I can speak for Mintar as well when I say, I don’t know if that is a sound course of action.”

“What’s the point of coming here if all we find out is that there’s lots of them bastards, hey? We could’ve sat back on the Hakahei and worked that out.”

“It ain’t worth the risk,” Scree said. “There’s got to be some of them left on the ship. And if not, there’s probably some type of automatic thing, even if the ships don’t fly automatically.”

Gulch stood up and hefted his pack. “Well, I’m going in there.”

“No, you ain’t.”

But he was. Scree watched as the other troll jumped up and ran down the side of the hill, stooping low as if that might save him from the weapons that were probably already pointing in his direction. He was starting up the other side of the little valley before Scree thought to move.

“Flayed kittens. Come on then.”

Suldon shook his head. “Just because Gulch disobeys your order and thus puts himself at risk does not mean the rest of us should do similarly.”

But Scree was already following and he assumed the others, including the elf, would do the same. They made it all the way across the bare ground and up to the side of the ship. Gulch had already crept along to the nearest doorway and was sidling slowly up the ramp, weapon pointing into the brightly lit opening as he scanned for trouble. Scree swore again and raced to catch up.

They made it to the top of the ramp unscathed and stepped inside. The others came a moment later, spreading out slightly to cover all the angles.

<You still with me, Stone?>

<Yep. Can’t see anything though.>

Scree didn’t know what he was looking at anyway. There was row after row of holes in the ceiling, each one was about a meter across, hexagonal and penetrated more than two meters.

Pool pursed her lips and looked around. “What’s all this about then, do you think?”

“I gots no idea. We should’ve brought Thorpe along.”

“You want to listen to his complaining all day?” Peak asked, one eye scanning the room.

“He wouldn’t haves complained. He would’ve done his job.”

“I know that. Just saying.”

“Right then.” Scree looked around again too, but there was nothing new and none of what had been there before interested him. If he knew what it was it might make a difference. “What you think, Mintar?”

The dwarf tugged on his beard and fingered the ribbon. “Maybe the holes are just like seats.”

“They ain’t nothing like seats, hey,” Gulch said. Peak agreed.

“But it might be hard to sit like we do with all those arms and legs.” The dwarf was warming to his task. “See that bar at the end of each hole? Maybe they grab onto that with that strong hand of theirs and pull themselves up into the hole. That way the sides of the hole stops them from bouncing around too much.”

“Seems a bit strange to me,” Peak said, still not convinced.

“And them aliens seemed normal?” Scree asked. He wasn’t sure Mintar was right, but he wasn’t willing to rule anything out. “Whats if you’s right, Mintar? What would that tell us about the aliens?”

The dwarf looked around some more. He nodded and continued to pull on his beard. “Well,” he said. “I really don’t have a clue.”

Scree sighed. “That doesn’t help.”

“Well, obviously. How about this then— those strong arms must be really strong. I mean, could you hold yourself up in there for even five minutes.” The dwarf looked Scree up and down. “Well, maybe you could, but I certainly couldn’t.”

Scree nodded. Seemed reasonable. But of course, the whole seat idea could be way off the mark anyway. “Come on, let’s see what’s through here.”

He led the way through a large door on the far side of the room and found himself in hallway that seemed to run the length of the ship. There was another door on the far side of the hall and another room like the one he’d just left. And five meters away was a guard.

The creature was lightening fast. There was a weapon in its strong hand and it started to raise it almost instantly, as if it had been expecting hakans all along. But the trolls were quicker. While Suldon and Mintar darted back the way they’d come Scree opened fire and a moment later, the others did too. Bullets bounced away, clattering and rattling down the hall. A second longer and someone was going to get hurt, but an eye exploded in a spray of dark liquid and the alien finally stopped moving. It sank to the floor, still upright.

Scree moved carefully forward, not totally trusting that the creature was dead. “Tough bugger,” he said as he prodded it with his gun. It still didn’t move. He pushed harder, but it was like he was pushing against a tree trunk. “Don’t know that you wants to try punching the thing. Just end up with a broken hand, I reckons.”

The others finally came forward to examine the multeese as well.

Peak tapped at its arm and it sounded metallic.

“Aye, it’s tough,” Pool said. “And heavy. It’s like it’s armored.” She went for a closer look. “Look here though. There’s a gap at all the joints.”

Scree figured it wouldn’t be able to move otherwise. But he doubted anyone would be able to fire a bullet in there anyway. That left just the eyes, which weren’t the biggest targets in the world either.

Peak grunted. “This has been a great mission,” he said. “We’ve found out that there lot’s of the aliens and them just about impossible to kill.”

“Never thoughts it was going to be easy.”

“Well, you been wrong before, Scree.”

Scree shook his head. “No, I haven’t. You thinking of Flint. Besides, we founds out that they do die, which is more than we knew before.”

Chasm cleared her throat. “Might have to put that knowledge to use pretty soon.”

Scree could hear it as well. Feet skittering on the hard floor. The trolls readied weapons. Mintar and Suldon tried to get out of the way.

“We ready?”

22: A Third Singer

Keeble watched as Brick Dunning and Talus dropped the first piece of pipe onto the ground at the base of the wall and sat down in the shade of the ship to rest for a minute.

“Where are the others?” Keeble asked.

But Crystal and Chip emerged from the gate a moment later. They dropped their pipe and went to rest as well.

“What took so long?”

Brick looked up at him. “We had to go the long way. You try getting a ten meter length of pipe through those streets.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

He waved the apology aside. “Don’t worry about it. We’d like to do it quicker, we’d like to go the short way. Those pipes are damn heavy.”

“Only a hundred more lengths to go,” Keeble said, trying to make it sound like it was going to be fun. Brick and Talus both muttered something he couldn’t hear. “It won’t all be this bad though.”

“And why’s that?”

“We’ve got this crane here and another is being built at the halfway point. That’s barely a hundred meters from the factory.”

“Yeah, in a straight line, maybe.”

“Well, either way, it’s closer than this.”

“Fabulous.” Brick sighed and climbed to his feet. He helped Talus up as well and the two of them headed back through the gate. Crystal and Chip followed not long after, leaving Keeble waiting for his construction crew. There was nothing he could do until they arrived.

When they did arrive Keeble had a plan of operation formed. He didn’t waste any time. They didn’t have any to waste.

“We’re going to have to get this bit done as quickly as possible. There are multeese ships out there and who knows how long it will be before the bastards come looking for us in person.” He looked around. “Shardy on the crane. It’s geared so you should be able to handle it on your own easy enough.”

The trollop started to scale the ladder to the top of the wall while Keeble worked with Cuto, Tasko, Bargle, Ari and Tim McCree to get a pipe beneath the crane and tied securely on.

A minute later, Shardy was working at the handle on the crane, reeling the heavy pipe in like a caught fish. The crew rushed up to help manhandle it over onto the roof. Then they were coming down again to get the next pipe ready to go.

“How we going to attach the pipe to the ship, Keeble?” Bargle asked.

Keeble swore. He had fittings to connect the pipes to each other, but they were of hurgon design and didn’t match the valves on the ship. While the others worked on getting the pipe up the wall, he and Bargle went to the far side of the ship to look up at the valves.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked. He shaded his eyes to look up as well.

Keeble told him.

The American nodded and continued to look. “Sing,” he said eventually.

“Pardon.”

“Sing a hole in the side of the ship and shove the pipe in there.”

“Huh.” Keeble looked back at the ship and tried to think of a reason why it wouldn’t work. “The pipe will fill with stone when I stop Singing,” he said. He hadn’t given up on the idea but he had to think about it. If nothing else, it would save them having to get the pipe all the way around the other side of the ship.

Tasko joined them. They told him the problem and he had an answer straight away. “We block the end of the pipe,” he said. “Then I Sing my Song of Doing the same time you Sing and the pipe will push the stone out of the way.”

“That should work.”

Tasko shook his head. “It does work. You obviously haven’t had much to do with any plumbers.”

“No.”

“They’ve been doing it for years.”

“Right then.” Keeble swore. “Except we need three Singers to breach the hull. Where’s Drago?”

“Not sure.”

“Shardy,” Keeble called. “Can you get someone to send Drago here as quickly as possible.”

The trollop saluted as she continued to work the crane.

Keeble led the way and, without speaking, they started to get the two pieces of pipe connected. Keeble got in and worked with the wrench, tightening the clamps to join the pipes. Tasko and Bargle were sealing the joint with a sticky hurgon concoction that smelled terrible but dried hard in no time at all.

Keeble stood up when he was done and looked around on the roof. There was a piece of timber not far away. It was rotting on one end and likely to fall apart at any moment but it would stay together long enough to do the job. He scooped up the timber, broke it in half under his boot, then placed the two pieces side by side over the end of the pipe. But then he had to keep it in place.

Tasko was done with the joint. He saw what Keeble was doing and shook his head. “I wonder about you sometimes, Keeble.” But he was smiling as he said it. He took a ball of string from one of the pouches on his belt and used it to tie the timber while Keeble held it.

Drago arrived before they’d finished, huffing up the ladder, beard thrown back over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“We’re putting this piece of pipe into the hull. Need a third Singer.”

“Right you are then.”

“Are we ready?” Shardy asked.

Keeble looked around, one final check. “Yes.”

So they arranged themselves along either side of the pipe and started to push it out into the open air towards the ship. They were about halfway there when Tim asked, “Is this going to work?”

“Of course.” But Keeble didn’t know. The end was already starting to sag. The fuel tanks were lower than their current location so they’d just have to keep going and see what happened. “It’ll have to.” He didn’t know if they’d be able to haul the pipes back in if it didn’t work.

They kept pushing and it was going to be a close thing. Keeble tried to calculate the exact height of the floor on Level 8 fuel tanks.

“It’s going to work.” He started to Sing as they pushed some more. The weight was getting hard to hold. “Shardy, sit on the end.” And they pushed some more.

Tasko and Drago were Singing, too.

When the pipe was almost touching the hull, Keeble concentrated on focusing his Song. He could feel the other Songs merging with his own, weaving melodies, Singing into the densely packed particles of the stone. They pushed the pipe into the magical opening and carefully lowered the end until it was resting on solid stone.

Keeble took a deep breath and let go of his song. He, Drago and Tasko stood side by side, looking at the ship.

“Too low,” Tasko said.

“Too low,” agree Drago.

“Yep.” Keeble shook his head. “The damn thing will end up in the hold.” He sucked on his teeth and wound the gears on his arm.

Tasko cocked his head to one side and ran his fingers through his red hair.

Ari stepped up beside them. “Could you Sing a ramp into the rock and just push the pipe up to the next level.” She tried to scratch under the bandages on her arm.

Keeble shook his head. “Good idea, but no. It’s hard enough pushing that damn thing as it is.”

“Have we got a loop?” Bargle asked. The young dwarf was sitting on the edge of the roof, looking at the pipe as well.

“A loop of what?”

“Metal. An eyelet big enough for the crane’s rope to go through.”

“What for?”

“Have we got one?”

“No.”

“A hook?”

“Yeah. Over there.” Keeble had been intending to use it on the crane but didn’t bother in the end.

Bargle went and picked up the hook. He examined it for a moment, gave a nod then went back to the edge of the roof. He took a deep breath, stepped up onto the pipe, and started to walk out towards the ship.

Keeble held his breath.

When Bargle reached the other side he leaned against the side of the ship for a moment before turning around to look back. “I need a little hole about here, Keeble. Just big enough to hold this.” He pointed to a spot directly above the pipe.

And Keeble knew what the lad was talking about. “Good idea.”

They Sang the hole so Bargle could set the hook into the stone up above his head. And Ari already had the end of the rope from the crane, ready to throw across. Bargle caught the rope and pushed it around behind the hook. Then, sitting down, he tied the end around the pipe just outside the wall. He tested the knot.

“Ready.”

“Ready, Shardy,” Keeble said. He, Drago and Tasko Sang again.

When they signaled, the trollop started to wind the handle on the crane and the end of the pipe lifted upwards through the stone while Bargle carefully hung on.

Keeble signaled again when it was high enough but didn’t stop Singing.

“Ready, Bargle?” Tasko asked.

“Ready.” Still straddling the pipe, Bargle moved backwards.

Keeble helped push the pipe further into the wall while Bargle shuffled backwards.

When they’d pushed far enough the young dwarf signaled. Keeble, Tasko and Drago reshaped their Songs so Bargle could climb through into the fuel tank and remove the timber from the end. Then he had to reshape the insubstantial stone on the way back out, molding it around the pipe and making it airtight.

Shardy cleared her throat. “You’ve got about five minutes.”

23: The Other Side

Tuki had been relieved when the train was finally out of the open fields and under the trees. The sprint across the plain had seemed to take forever and every second they were there had brought another kidol closer to death. It had taken him some time to realize the creatures were only to draw attention away from the train and the Grandmother riding it. The distraction the hurgon had been talking about. Tuki felt guilty about each kidol that fell from the sky. Five. Five had died, along with the hurgon controlling them. He counted each one and said a small prayer.

But under the trees, finally, they started to climb, and even with just the one carriage for the train to push, they slowed. And each kilometer they slowed a little bit more. They were not being attacked under the trees, but Tuki figured it was only a matter of time.

The next minute passed, then the next until Tuki was unable to gauge the passing of time at all. He sat in the ever-moving patches of sunlight and shade, watching as the glass stars scattered across the floor twinkled and flashed. The quiet talk of his companions filled his head. He wondered if his life had been paused, like one of the movies the humans and elves watched on the Hakahei.

And the train went slower and slower.

After a long time he rose to his feet and walked carefully to the back of the train, which was now the front. There was a glass window there, set in the top of a door, and he looked out to make sure the world outside the train still existed, that it was still moving forward like it should.

The trees were blowing in the breeze. Strange, ungainly birds burst into life as the train approached. The train was going so slow that the breeze overtook them, bringing with it the grey-white smoke from the engine.

The world moved on and the train labored up the hill.

Tuki jumped when somebody stepped up by his side. It was Topper, covered in soot and looking tired.

“How far to the top of this damn hill?” he asked softly, as if he too had been taken by the feeling of waiting.

Tuki shrugged. If he knew the exact speed of the train, and the total distances involved, he could have calculated...

“Seems much worse than it did last time.”

Tuki could only agree. But even as they watched, the top of the hill came into view. And the narrow cutting where the train passed through to the other side.

“Huh.” Topper gave him a pat on the back. “A couple of minutes then it’s all down hill.”

Tuki nodded. “But there is more open ground.”

Topper didn’t seem to care. “Flint,” he said happily. “See if you can get Scree now. We’re at the top. Or will be in a couple of minutes.” The dwarf headed back towards the engine to tell his companions.

“Yeah, got him,” Flint said a minute later. “Lucky bugger’s been blowing stuff up. Kim isn’t happy about that though.”

Tuki stayed where he was, watching out the window as the cutting closed in around them, swallowed them, then spat them out the other side. And out in the open. Looking down the mountain, out across the forest -filled valley and the farmland, he gasped.

Someone heard him. “What is it, Tuki?”

He turned and saw that everyone was watching him. It was Flint who had spoken. The troll was already on his feet and heading towards the window as well.

“I have seen this valley before.”

“Course you have. We came through it to get here.”

“Yes, I know, but...” He shook his head. “I have seen it some other time as well.”

“When.”

“I do not know. I cannot remember.”

“A picture?”

“I do not know.”

Flint sighed. “Not really helpful then, is it.”

“I guess not.”

“Let me know if you remember.”

Tuki nodded and watched out the window as time picked up speed and headed down the hill.

* * *

Keeble turned to look at the trollop. “What?” Keeble asked. “Five minutes?”

“Multeese is coming.”

“Damn. Hurry it up there, Bargle.”

Down below, Brick and Talus were back with another five meters of pipe. They dumped it on the ground and sat down to rest again. As had happened last time, Crystal and Chip emerged not long after.

“You’ll have to take them back inside,” Keeble called down.

“They can bloody well stay here,” Brick said.

Keeble wondered if he’d have said something like that to one of his superior officers from the American Marines. “The multeese are coming.”

“Shit. All right then.”

The four members of the pipe-carrying squad climbed to their feet and got to work.

“How’s that?” Bargle asked as the gate into the compound banged closed a minute later.

Keeble gathered his thoughts and tested the hull with his mind. He pointed out a split.

“Bargle,” Shardy said. Keeble looked up at her. “Time to finish. Now.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Now, Bargle.”

Shardy pointed. Bargle wouldn’t be able to see around the bulk of the ship but Keeble could. The multeese were approaching down the road. Strange white things with colorful feathers on their heads, scrabbling down the road like a long line of three legged cockroaches.

“I think you should get back here now, Bargle,” Tasko said.

“We’ll be finishing our Songs in about five seconds,” Keeble said. He tried not to think about Sandy, but it was hard. Would it be worse this time? Did it get easier, each time you were responsible for a friends death? Or did the feelings merely accumulate, until it really was too much to bear? He didn’t want to find out. “Get back here now. That’s an order, Bargle.”

Bargle shook his head. “None of this is any good if it isn’t sealed properly.” He kept working.

Twenty seconds later, Bargle sat back. “How is it?”

Sandy was a troll— it was her job to do dangerous things. Bargle was a dwarf… Keeble checked the hull with his mind. “It’s great.” There was a hollow spot about halfway through but it was sealed on either side, so it didn’t really matter. And the multeese were down amid the ruins of the old compound. Keeble finished his Song as Bargle climbed to his feet.

“They’re here?” Bargle asked.

“That’s what we been saying,” Shardy said. She had picked up her gun and was standing by the edge of the roof, though Keeble couldn’t work out what she was going to do against... A thousand multeese?

The first aliens were almost at the wall. Bargle swore.

One of the creatures started to raise its weapon. Then another. Bargle swore again and started to walk along the pipe.

A weapon fired. It seemed to be an energy weapon, but the beam zinged off the pipe and whizzed away into nowhere.

Bargle started to run. Keeble watched, horrified. Another burst of energy passed behind Bargle. Then the aliens seemed to notice everyone else standing on the roof. More of the creatures started to raise their weapons and everyone moved back.

Keeble crouched down and stayed as close to the edge as he could. He wasn’t willing to go too far. Shardy was by his side. Bargle was still running. It was barely more than ten meters but he seemed to take forever. Another weapon fired. Barge started to wobble. He had his arms out to keep his balance. It wasn’t helping. He was only a couple of steps from the roof when he finally started to topple.

Keeble shouted. Bargle shouted. And with the last of his momentum threw himself towards the wall. He cartwheeled his arms. He thrashed at the air, trying to claw himself closer to the safety of the roof. He grabbed desperately at the wall. Missed.

But Shardy threw herself forward as well, sliding along the roof. Her hand shot out.

Bargle screamed. Shardy was almost hanging over the edge when she caught his wrist. She grunted, slid a bit further.

“A little help,” she said, as if she was about to spill her cup of coffee.

But Tim was already there. He wedged his feet, grabbed her ankle and started to haul her back. After a moment, Keeble went to help as best he could with one hand, then Tasko was there and they were hauling the trollop back. Another weapon fired, but Bargle was slithering over the edge and onto the roof.

Keeble scrambled back and lay down out of sight. He watched the other dwarf and Bargle didn’t move. Keeble licked his lips, heart racing. He reached forward, felt his throat constrict.

Then Bargle grunted and rolled over, spitting dust and testing to see if his nose was broken. “I think I knocked loose a tooth,” he said.

Keeble slumped to the ground and drew in a dusty lungful of air. “Good work, everyone,” he said between deep, ragged breaths. He wasn’t sure if it had been worth it though. Bargle was right when he said that all the pipes in the world wouldn’t help if it wasn’t sealed at the ship, but they could’ve done that later.

“So we’re stuck in the compound for a while now,” Tim said. “Probably until this is sorted out.”

Keeble grunted. At the speed the pipe was being made, that could be a while.

* * *

Scree dropped to one knee to give those behind him clear shots as half a dozen aliens stepped into the hall from the room they’d been in earlier. He aimed and fired, concentrating on the eyes.

But the multeese weren’t stupid. After the first one went down, they held their bladed arms up to protect their faces and kept moving as they raised their weapons. Scree swore. He charged forward, changing the angle of attack so he could get bullets in past their defenses. Pool and Gulch followed while the others kept the aliens busy.

Scree killed one, then another. When he turned to find another enemy he discovered they’d all been taken down.

“I think now might be a good time to leave,” Mintar said.

Scree looked at the dwarf. He was holding his gun like he was ready to use it but really didn’t look like he wanted to.

“You might be right.” Scree cocked his head at the sound of more multeese getting closer. “Not quite yet though.”

He got ready again and started firing before the multeese had a chance to think. They died quicker this time.

Scree motioned Pool forward. “Have a look for us.”

Pool nodded. “Aye.” She went forward to look into the room the creatures had come from. “Nobody in there,” she said, beckoning the others forward.

Chasm went further in. “Chasm reckons they could be dangerous if they start thinking.”

Scree agreed. “Just looks like they aren’t used to any resistance at all. They arrives, others die.”

“We’ll have to show them otherwise, hey,” Gulch said with a smile.

Peak nodded. “Right. We knows them can die, now let’s set some of those explosive thingies and see if the ship can blow up. That sounds like much more fun than killing them buggers one at a time.”

“It’ll send a loud message, too, I reckon.”

Pool removed her pack and took out the plastic bag that held the explosives. She held it up and examined the contents. “What we supposed to do with this stuff?” she asked.

“You got some plastic tube things in there, too, hey?” Gulch asked.

“Aye.”

“That’s a chemical fuse, hey. You break off a bit and shove it in the other bit. The longer the tube the longer its is until it goes bang.”

Pool opened the plastic bag and took out the explosives for a closer look. She molded it in her hands. “And the more of this the bigger the bang?”

Gulch nodded. “That’s what Tim said.”

Scree picked up one of the multeese weapons and weighed it in his hand. It was heavy. Real heavy. He didn’t know if he’d be able to carry it around for long. Not if he wanted to do anything.

“So how much do we want then?” Pool asked.

“Don’t know. Tim didn’t really say, hey.”

Pool broke off a handful of the explosives then shrugged and took about half the entire amount. “So we stick it to a wall or something?” But she was already wedging it into the corner down near the floor, pushing it in to make sure it stayed.

Chasm had taken up the tube. “And how much of this?”

“A bit.” Gulch broke off about ten centimeters. He held it up. “We ready? We have to run after I shoves this in, hey.”

Scree nodded. “I’m ready.”

Before Gulch could stick in the fuse the clatter of alien feet spun everyone around. A dozen aliens were standing in the hallway watching them.

“Who was supposed to be watching behind us?” Scree asked as he went the other way. But he’d been more interested in the explosives as well. Each and every day, the trolls were losing their edge. He grunted. It was probably his fault. Or at least, it was his job to make sure it didn’t happen. He wasn’t sure if those two things were the same or not and, as he skidded around a corner, he decided it was something he’d have to think about later.

He slowed down but could hear the skittering of the multeese close behind. So he ran some more, pulling Mintar with him up a set of broad, wide stairs. Three strides on each. Up four meters, five. The decor of the next floor didn’t look all that different from the first. There were more doors and a T-intersection not far ahead. Scree headed that way. When they got there, half the trolls went one way, half the other. They stopped and turned to fight.

Four of the creatures died before they topped the stairs. The others came more slowly, arms up to protect their eyes.

24: Problems

Scree cursed. Without getting out into the open, there wasn’t a lot they could do. “Any ideas?” he asked as another volley of bullets clattered harmlessly away. He looked around. The hall ended not far away in both directions. There was a door in the side wall.

“Through there,” Mintar said.

“What the hell’s in there?”

The dwarf sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Then why woulds we want to go in there?”

“Because there’s just a single door.”

Scree looked. Maybe there was only one door. Or there might be a door on the far side of wherever that led, meaning the multeese could attack from two directions. He sent Pool to look.

Around the corner, the multeese were getting closer. They were barely ten meters away now.

Pool came back. “No good. It’s like a little control room.”

“Control room?”

“Aye. They’ve got another ship in a hangar back there. ‘Bout as big as the Hakahei.”

“Can we fly it?”

“No way down.”

Scree looked around, trying to think. “Is that the outside wall?” He pointed to the wall at the end of the hall.

Mintar nodded. “I think so. It’s about a meter thick if it is.”

“And the other end?” Past the intersection where the others were hiding.

“Can’t say, because I don’t know how wide the ship actually is. I’d guess it was the outside though.”

“Right. Gulch, use some of thats explosive on the wall there. Not too much though. Just enough to make a hole.”

“We’re about ten meters above the ground, hey,” Gulch said.

“Twelve and a half,” Mintar muttered.

“Whatever. The point is, we probably won’t get down to the ground.”

“You gots a better idea?”

Gulch stuck his head around the corner for another look. Then he pulled off a bit of the explosive and two centimeters of fuse. “We ready, hey?” Without waiting for an answer, Gulch stuck the fuse into the explosive.

“Ummm...” Mintar said.

Suldon took a step back.

Gulch watched the fuse intently.

“What are you doing, Gulch?” Chasm asked. She took a step back as well.

Scree stayed where he was. He didn’t know what Gulch was doing, but he was willing to wait and see.

And right at the last second, just before it was too late, Gulch threw the explosives around the corner without even looking.

An explosion. The ship shook. Lights flickered. Part of the roof clattered down to the floor.

Scree tried to listen for the approach of the aliens, but his ears were ringing. After a few seconds he decided the fact they weren’t yet being attacked was a good sign. He hefted his gun, and looked at his companions. Chasm gave him a nod. Across the other side of the connecting hall, Peak gave a nod as well. They ran out into the hall.

They needn’t have bothered. The multeese were all dead, or so close that they weren’t a threat to anyone.

“That worked better than expected, hey.”

“Lucky for yous.” Scree shot a squirming alien in the eye.

“Come on, it worked.”

“Yeah, and a broken clock works twice a days.”

“What?”

“It’s one of Ping’s sayings. Don’t really understand it thoughs.”

Suldon cleared his throat. “It means—”

But Scree turned to look at him and the elf fell silent. “I think we should get back to the place Pool left that other explosive stuff. We set that off then get the hell out of here.”

“You might want to have a look at this first, Scree.”

Scree went to stand by Mintar’s side. The dwarf had pushed aside a piece of fallen ceiling panel and was looking at one of the multeese bodies. It took Scree a moment to work out what was so interesting.

“Scorched kittens.”

“What is you looking at?” Peak asked.

Scree didn’t say anything. He stared at the wires sticking out a hole in the chest of one of the dead multeese. There seemed to be a lot more wires beyond, with nothing that looked like an actual body part.

“They’re robots,” Mintar said when it became obvious Scree wouldn’t.

“A what?”

“A robot.”

“Didn’t understand you the first time, Mintar. What makes you think I would the second time?”

“A robot,” Scree said. “Like a clockwork person. They ain’t alive.”

“Chasm doesn’t understand either.”

Scree sighed. “These things are just machines, like the Hakahei.” But what did that mean? He didn’t know and wasn’t likely to work it out standing in the hallway of the alien ship. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He led the way back down the wide, shallow stairs and stopped at the bottom to look around. After a moment, standing still in the silence, listening, he crept back to the explosives. He took the fuse off Gulch and broke away a long section.

“We ready?” He shoved the end into the explosives.

Back into the big room with the holes then out the door and down the ramp to the ground. None of the aliens could be seen. There were no more guards. They obviously thought they didn’t need that many. That might all change very soon.

<What them multeese doing, Stone?> Scree asked as he ran.

<They’ve all lined up out the front. Now they’re waiting for something.>

<They’re in luck. Cause something’s about to happen.>

<That doesn’t sound good.>

<Course it’s good. Just wait.>

Scree and his companions weren’t waiting though. They ran down the first hill and up to the top of the second. They slid down behind the protection it offered.

“How long this gonna take?” Chasm asked.

Tim hadn’t told Gulch, so how was Scree supposed to know?

They waited.

“Maybe—”

Then the multeese ship exploded. It was just one little explosion at first, but that explosion created another, then another. Parts of the ship were raining down around them, fizzing through the air, hissing quietly, sending up sprays of dirt when they hit.

A huge, buckled piece of hull, hit the ground not far away and Scree scuttled over to it with the others close behind. He slipped into the protective space beneath and made room. More explosions. Debris clattered against the metal. Something big hit— big enough to make a dent. Then there was quiet, apart from the crackle of a raging fire and the expansion of burning metals.

“Huh,” Scree said. Another explosion shattered the day. He ducked down and covered his head, as if that might help. When the almost silence had returned he swallowed. He tried again, “Gulch, that’s how you blows shit up.”

Gulch didn’t reply.

“Huh, you’re just jealous,” Scree said. “Gulch? Where’s Gulch?”

He wasn’t under the piece of hull. Scree climbed out and looked around. Gulch was lying on his side, halfway back to where they’d watched the first of the explosions. Scree swore. He made his way over to the other troll and rolled him onto his back. His head was caved in on one side. There were a dozen things nearby that might have done the damage.

“Flayed kittens.”

Stone spoke in Scree’s mind. <That was pretty impressive, Scree, but you gots problems. Some of them multeese coming to have a look.>

<Right then.>

<What’s the problem?>

<Gulch didn’t make it.>

<Dead?>

<Yeah.>

<Damn.>

<Yeah.>

<Well, you’d better leave him there. If you want to get back in you probably have to do it while they’re still wondering what the hell’s going on.>

Scree nodded, though obviously that wasn’t going to help Stone. “Come on, we got to get back quick.”

“So we’re leaving Gulch?” Mintar asked.

“No choice.”

“Kim won’t be happy.”

“She ain’t going to be happy either way.” Scree spat. All he could taste was smoke. The alien ship was still burning fiercely. “Come on.” He spat again and started to run.

* * *

Kim watched on the camera as Bargle nearly got himself killed. Brave but stupid. Which normally amounted to the same thing anyway. She discovered she was standing up, and likely to get in trouble from Thorpe if he saw her, and lowered herself carefully back into her wheelchair.

She heard Inaki draw in a deep breath.

“That was a bit close, wasn’t it?”

Inaki nodded in reply. “I did not think he was going to make it.”

“Me either.” Kim drew in some air as well.

Bargle had made it though, and now they had the first bit of pipe connected. There was still a long way to go, though, and the last Kim had heard there was a problem at the factory and no pipes at all were being made. They had about 400 meters— still a long way short of what was required.

She hit the button on the radio and adjusted it so she was talking to the security office. “Scree, why aren’t we shooting at the multeese?”

“Scree ain’t here,” Stone replied. “And we ain’t shooting anyone cause they ain’t shooting us. Our job is to survive long enough to get out of here, not start a fight.”

“Right. Fair enough.” Kim sat back for a moment then asked, “Where’s Scree?”

There was a slight pause. “I’m not sure exactly.”

Kim grimaced. “You aren’t very good at lying, Stone. I don’t need to know exactly where he is. Approximate will do.”

“Right. Well, at the moment he’s lying on top of a hill a couple of kilometers from here.”

That didn’t sound good. “And why is he—”

There was an explosion. Not close by, but close enough to shake the ship and rattle her teeth. Kim stood up, hurt her knee, and quickly sat back down again. She was about to tell Inaki to find out what was going on, but he was already switching cameras. He probably didn’t know what he was looking for.

It was obvious enough in the end. A huge cloud of smoke was rising into the sky in the direction of the closest multeese ship. Kim wanted to go up to her seat and spin the bridge. There were more explosions, as if one had set off the others. The clouds of smoke continued to rise.

Kim hit the button on the radio. “I’m guessing that was him.”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t going to tell me this?”

There was a moment of silence. “Well...”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She drew in a breath. “And don’t tell me I didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t even know you were awake.”

It was a fair enough point. And it wasn’t Stone’s job to tell her what Scree was doing. It was Scree’s job.

“Well, I want to talk to him.”

“Let’s let him concentrate for a minute. He’s on his way back anyway.”

25: A Small Price

Kim wheeled her chair backwards and forwards, going through all the things she was going to say to Scree when she had the chance. She could feel herself getting angrier by the moment. He shouldn’t risk himself like that. Plus whoever he’d taken with him, of course. If he’d taken anyone at all. She wouldn’t put it past him to go on his own. Did Thorpe know? She’d have to find him and ask.

She tried to calm down. Working herself into a spitting rage wasn’t going to help anyone. Kim took a deep breath and looked around. Inaki was looking a bit worried, as if she was about to bite someone’s head off, with him being the closest target. Another deep breath.

Kim was getting worse at waiting. In the past, as she backpacked around the world, waiting didn’t really make all that much difference. The plane would leave eventually, the train would arrive, another lift would come along, someone would feed her before she starved. But now, every second seemed to count, so count them she did. Every single one.

Think about something else. “So, Inaki, are you angry with me? Do you wish you’d stayed back in Danyon Ford?”

The moai looked shocked to be asked, but gave the question some thought. “No, mo’shi. I think I feel as Tuki does— a life of risk is a small price to pay for doing deeds that matter.”

Kim nodded. “So you don’t hate me then? For lying to you?”

“You did not lie, mo’shi.”

“I said we were going to heaven.”

Inaki glanced at the aliens displayed above the skyglass and laughed. “Perhaps we are just going the long way.”

Kim laughed as well and felt herself starting to relax. “Maybe we are.” But Scree was out there still, coming back to a ship and compound that were under siege. “I think some of us are going a bit quicker than others.”

A few minutes later, Stone was back on the radio. “They’re back.”

Kim went to Inaki’s radio and found the right frequency. She stabbed the button and almost shouted. “Scree.”

“Hi, Kim. You’re awake again.”

“I’ve been awake for a while. But did you really think I was going to sleep through that damn earthquake anyway.”

“You felt that?” Scree sounded amused.

“If you’re going to do anything like that in the future— not just the explosion but the whole damn mission— you bloody tell me about it first or get back so quickly and so quietly that I never even know that you went.”

“Course. I was going to—”

“Don’t give me that shit.”

There was a moment of silence. “So why aren’t you shooting at them, Stone?”

“They weren’t shooting at us, so we decided to wait and see what was happening with you.”

“What’s numbers like on the other sides?”

“Nothing like this side. Maybe a couple of hundred each side, but waiting in groups around the gates, not spread out.”

Another voice joined the conversation. “Hey, Scree. Kim. Stone.”

“Flint. Hows you going?” Scree asked.

“Yeah, you know. We got the contracts and we got Grandmother Donni.”

“You got the Grandmother? We don’t wants the bitch.”

“Scree!” Kim said. Then she realized what else Flint had said. “The contracts are signed?” They were one step closer to getting out of there, though until everyone was on board, and they had fuel, the contracts didn’t mean much at all.

“We’s at the top of the mountains. Couple of hours away, hopefully.”

“Good. That’s great news.” Things seemed to be going well. For a moment Kim thought that maybe she should put Scree in charge permanently. But she shook her head. That was just stupid. Scree was trying to get back after blowing up an alien spacecraft. And he’d probably pissed in the captain’s seat for good measure. She was not going to leave him in charge.

“We’ll let you know when we’re getting close.”

“Sounds, good. There’s a bit of a siege going on here at the moment.”

“Yeah, already run one of them twice today.” As if it was something he did every day. “Couple of other things. Far as we can work out, the aliens ain’t the multeese.”

“What?” Kim said. She almost got up out of her chair again.

“Tuki found some stuff that suggests the multeese might be creatures made out of gas, or something. And these things obviously aren’t made out of gas.”

“They ain’t actually aliens at all,” Scree said. “They’re robots.”

Kim was having trouble keeping up. “The multeese are robots?” But no, they’d established that the multeese were gas creatures. However that worked. “So, the multeese have a robot army?”

“I’m just passin’ on what Tuki told me.”

“Don’t matter at the moments,” Scree said. “Still gots to kill the buggers before they kill us.”

“Don’t we always. Anyway, we’s picking up speed now so we should see you soon.”

“Good. See you soon, Flint. Be careful.”

“Will do.”

“And Scree, you’d better get back on this ship so I can tear shreds off you in person.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“We got four catapults and one big gun that can cover you on the way in, Scree,” Stone offered.

“What about the Lander,” Kim suggested.

“No way. Not yet, anyway. Gots to open the hangar doors. Who knows what the buggers might throws in there.”

“Right.”

Kim listened to the short conversation that followed but didn’t really take part. Her military experience didn’t involve catapults or sieges and she really didn’t have anything to offer. Apart from telling people to be careful, as usual. And imagining all the horrible ways Scree could die. Scree and all the others. While the trolls talked, Kim asked Inaki to change the view in the dome. He showed the ground in front of the compound door and also showed the top of the wall in the smaller image above his console. By the time he was done, so were Scree and Stone.

“All right, here goes.”

Kim leaned forward in her wheelchair to watch. She didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t turn away. Scree would get through. He always did.

* * *

Scree licked his lips.

There were a lot of aliens. A lot of robots. He wasn’t sure that four catapults and one big gun were going to do much at all. Not much that would help, anyway. There were also a dozen P’targa guards and their energy weapons that were going to help. All of that might work as a diversion, but Scree and his companions were going to have to make their way through the middle of the enemy ranks. It would only take one second for them to be noticed and killed.

“That’s why Kim’s the boss,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” Suldon asked.

“Nothing. You ready?”

“I am not.”

“Let’s go then.”

The first catapult fired. It wasn’t a very long shot— they could almost roll the rocks over the edge of the wall for the same effect. But it did do something. Some of the robots moved out of the way on quick, scuttling feet. Others died where they stood, some with a spectacular display of sparks, while others simply sank quietly to the ground, still upright.

Scree stood up and started to make his way slowly down the hill. Most of the enemy were around the main gate, obviously, which didn’t help. But he headed in that direction because it was better than trying to climb the wall.

Another volley of stones and more of the robots scattered. And while they were moving, the big hurgon gun opened fire.

Half a dozen robots, all in one small area, exploded. Shrapnel whizzed past. Scree felt his arm cut, but didn’t look. Another catapult, and a narrow avenue was starting to open up through the middle of the robots. They clambered over the first of the rocks. Mintar fell and Scree swore.

“Thought you dwarves loved this kind of stuff,” Scree said as he stopped to help the dwarf to his feet.

“Running sieges?”

“No, clambering around on rocks and stuff.”

“Only when I don’t have to worry about other rocks landing on my head.”

Scree smiled. Rocks landing on their heads were the least of their worries. “You right to walk?” He didn’t want to have to carry him.

Mintar grunted in reply, as if the thought of doing anything other than walking was offensive. He started limping forward.

Nearby, one of the robots noticed their progress. Scree shot it in the eye just as Peak did the same thing. Then another robot.

Another explosion. More shrapnel. Scree’s gun was almost knocked from his hand. A piece of metal was sticking from the side, just centimeters from his thumb. Sparks were biting at his fingers. He threw the weapon away and looked up in time to see a robot aiming in his direction. Suldon fired. He missed, but distracted the enemy long enough for Pool to get in a shot.

Big rocks rained down just meters away. Small pieces landed by their feet. Mintar went down again. Blood was streaming from a wound on his shoulder. Scree stopped again. He didn’t have time to ask questions. He hauled the dwarf back to his feet. “Stop messing around and move.”

Mintar winced with pain. “I apologize. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

“Good to hear.”

The dwarf fingered the green ribbon tied in his beard, and started to walk. For a moment it looked like he wouldn’t stay upright. Scree watched, saw he was going to be all right, for now at least, and turned his attention outwards again. He pulled the smaller, hand weapon from his belt and looked around. There was a fallen robot nearby. A stone had crushed one of its legs and it didn’t seem to know how to handle the situation. Someone shot it.

There always seemed to be another robot. Amidst the rain of stone and occasional flying cloud of shrapnel there was always a robot ready to kill them. Scree and his companions tried to avoid attracting anyone’s attention, but it wasn’t easy. Scree shot another five, while he tried to keep an eye on Mintar. The dwarf stumbled along blindly, pain etched on his face.

Scree was just thinking they might make it when Pool stumbled as well. The trollop went down on all fours and before she had a chance to get even one foot under her, a beam of energy took her on the side of the face. It knocked her sideways, sent her tumbling onto her back. Scree swore. He grabbed Peak as the tall troll tried to go back for her.

“No, Peak,” he shouted as another hail of stone smashed into the ground. “Suldon, keep moving.” If they lost momentum they might never get going again.

Finally, the gates to the compound swung open and a dozen hurgon marched out. They started firing their weapons before the robots had a chance to react and cleared a small beachhead. Scree moved between the first of them. He looked back once, but Pool was lost from sight, hidden behind a mass of robots that now suddenly had targets they seemed to like.

The hurgon closed in behind Scree and his companions and the gates thudded shut behind them.

Scree sat down on the ground, throwing down his weapon. “Cats piss on them,” he said. Kim’s lecture would have to wait, but he thought it might be getting worse by the moment.

Mintar slumped to the ground and Suldon rushed to his side to see if he could help.

“Cat piss on them.”

26: Visions

Tuki looked up from his spot on the floor. “What did you say?” he asked.

Dogar pointed. “A meteor.”

“Where.”

“Out there. In the sky, obviously.”

Tuki got to his feet and made his way to the dwarf’s side.

“Over that way. Can’t see it now. I didn’t really see much of it before. Just a glimpse.”

Tuki moved long the carriage, looking out the window, trying to see. And then he could see. A flaming ball was plummeting towards the ground from right up near the top of the sky. And as he watched, the meteor— though surely it was a spacecraft— broke into two pieces. Then both pieces were down behind the trees and lost from view.

“Stop the train,” he said.

“What?”

“Stop the train.”

“Why.”

Tuki pushed past the dwarf and headed for the back of the carriage. He pulled the door open and jumped across to the engine without even thinking. He pulled open the next door and rushed through.

“You must stop the train, Topper.”

“What? Why?”

Why did everyone ask questions all the time? Why did they not just listen? Perhaps it was because Tuki didn’t usually give orders. He took a deep breath. “Stop the train now.” He tried to sound like Kim did when she was giving an order that needed to be obeyed immediately. “That is an order.”

There was an explosion somewhere, not far away. The ground shuddered and rumbled. Topper fell to the floor. Hoodek gripped a big, cast iron wheel. The train bounced and shook for a moment before settling down to clatter onwards.

On the floor, Topper had a wild look in his eyes. A moment later he was on his feet, pulling on a huge lever while he shouted at Hoodek and Nina.

The train lurched as the brakes engaged. The iron wheels screeched on the rails. The train started shaking all over again.

“What the hell is going on, Tuki?” Flint shouted from the carriage.

Tuki didn’t answer. He jumped back to the carriage and rushed to the other end as best he could with the moving floor. It might not be the safest place but Tuki needed to see.

The train broke out into the clear. All around, trees had been flattened. Some were burning, others looked like they had dropped from the sky.

And not far ahead...

“What the hell is that?” Bones asked, rather succinctly.

“A spacecraft,” Tuki replied.

“That was the meteor?” Dogar asked, holding a handle on the wall with one hand and pulling on his beard with the other.

Tuki nodded.

The train continued to screech and shake. It started to wobble as well. Tuki looked down and saw that the tracks were twisted and buckled.

When he looked up, the crashed ship was just in front of them, not far away at all. They weren’t going to stop in time.

“Hang on,” he shouted.

Just as he did, the train rolled to the right one more time, then hung on two wheels.

People screamed.

Without thinking, Tuki stepped towards the low side of the carriage, so when it finally toppled all the way, he hardly fell at all. The air was knocked from his lungs nonetheless. Glass stars rained down to inhabit a new universe on what had been the wall moments before.

There were shouts and groans.

“Are you all right?” someone asked. Tuki didn’t know who had spoken. And if he was the target of the question, he wasn’t sure he knew the answer.

Tuki rolled onto his back. He was lying on a small square of burnt grass and soil that had once been a window. He counted to ten. He moved his arms and legs, checking that it was still possible, then carefully sat up.

“Clear some space.” Flint was hanging from the roof, strong fingers hooked onto a handle that ran along below a window, feet a meter above the ground. “Out of the way there, Meledrin.”

The elf slowly moved out of the way, groaning as she did so, and Flint dropped down to the ground. “Everyone all right?” he asked.

“I will be all right,” Tuki said. And he supposed that meant he should go and check on those who thought otherwise. Or those who could not answer. Palsamon was already bending over Dogar, helping the dwarf roll over. Bones was lifting some wooden seats off Grandmother Donni.

Tuki went to check on some of the hurgon guards who were not moving.

“Everyone all right down there?”

Tuki looked up again and saw Hoodek kneeling on top of the carriage, looking down through one of the windows.

“We are still endeavoring to find out, Hoodek,” Meledrin replied. She had a cut on her arm and a large, purple bruise covered half of her face. “Are Topper and Nina well?”

“They’ll live. Topper’s already complaining.”

“No point you gettin’ down in here,” Flint said. “You lot see if you can make us a door to get everyone out.”

“Will do.” And Hoodek hurried away. A minute later, there was a bang on the wall-that-was-the-roof that echoed around the carriage. A large section came loose and after a couple of more strikes a hole had been opened up.

Tuki helped carry Dogar out then clambered back in to help the others.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone was outside. One hurgon had hit its head and died, everyone else had sustained only minor injuries. Dogar was conscious, being tended to by Nina. Topper was near the front of the overturned carriage, looking at the remains of the railway tracks and the alien ship that had broken them. Everyone else was sitting quietly on the scorched earth.

Tuki pushed himself to his feet and went to crouch by Topper’s side. The ship, or the half ship, seeing Tuki had watched it break apart, was about twenty meters away, half buried in the ground at the bottom of a crater. Despite being on fire in several places, sending up thick columns of black smoke, the ship was still mostly intact. It was a strange looking thing, all angles and protuberances and crazy tangles of equipment. Apart from the crackling of fires and the pinging of metal, all was quiet.

“How did you know?” the dwarf asked.

“I saw it in a vision,” Tuki said.

“A vision?”

Tuki nodded. “I found a ewer in the desert. It showed me the valley and the meteor— the ship— destroying the tracks.”

“You saw this valley in a vision shown to you by a bottle?”

“Yes. I think it has something to do with being able to link with the skyglass.”

“When?”

“Back on Kiva.” The same day he had seen the hurgon ships in the shy. So long ago, in another life.

“But... Visions aren’t real,” Topper said, throwing a stick at the side of the spaceship. It was still burning in a dozen different places that Tuki could see. Long tails of smoke were wagging in the sky.

Tuki raised his eyebrows. “You can tunnel through solid stone by singing but a vision surprises you?”

Topper shrugged. “It isn’t my vision, though, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Either way, I’m not complaining. We’d be down in that crater with it if you hadn’t told us to stop.”

“Do you think that will make any difference with Scree?”

“What? Oh.” Topper laughed. “I don’t think it will. You’re still going to be in trouble when we get back.”

Flint joined them.

“What now?” Topper asked him.

“You tell me?”

“Me?” The dwarf laughed. “What, we fix the ship and fly it home? Or we move it out of the way and fix the rails?”

Flint gave a little smile. “I’m easy— you choose.”

Topper shook his head. “Well, I’ve already driven a train, so I say we fix the ship.”

“You won’t get to drive,” Flint told him. “Trolls drive that kind of thing.”

“In that case, I absolutely refuse to do it.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. I guess we have to walk then,” Flint said. “How far to the compound, Tuki?”

“About forty kilometers.” Looking at the sky, he guessed there were a couple of hours of light left, if they were lucky.

Flint examined the rest of the group, who had gathered near the train. “That’s the rest of today and all of tomorrow with this lot, I reckon. Maybe old Donni can’t make it at all. How long does this changing take them?” He grunted. “We could leave the hurgon behind. We could make it in about three hours.” He looked at Topper then back at the others. “I could anyway.”

“I could make it in an hour a half,” Tuki told him. “Maybe two.”

“You’re kidding?” Flint nodded, obviously impressed, and Tuki blushed. “Might have to see about that some time.”

“If you wish.”

And they all looked at the twisted tracks and the ship.

Tuki shifted and cleared his throat.

“What you got, Tuki?”

“There’s ten kilometers of forest.”

“Yeah. About that, I suppose.”

“We could get everyone that far, couldn’t we?”

Flint looked back again. “Maybe.”

“Then we tell Scree to meet us there with another train.”

“Do they have another train?” Topper asked.

“Not my problem now,” Flint said a minute later. “I’ve told Scree the story. He’s going to see what he can organize.”

“And if he can’t organize anything?” Tuki asked.

“Then we’ve already started walking. I’ll go see what Meledrin thinks.”

27: Different People

Tuki stayed where he was while Flint rose to his feet and headed for the remains of the train. It was a formality because Meledrin would not be able to come up with an alternative plan. So, soon they would be running. Or at least walking.

But apparently Grandmother Donni wasn’t walking anywhere. It took half an hour for the guards to build a stretcher she could sit on, then four of them took up the burden and started to skirt around the crater.

When Tuki climbed up onto the tracks on the far side of the ship, he stopped to look back. This side of the ship was in worse condition than the other. This was the side that had been attached to the other part. The interior was on display with all types of equipment spilling out onto the ground.

Ruby stopped close by, looking at the scene as well.

Tuki nodded as he started moving again, but did not stop to talk or even turn to look back. He jogged along the tracks until he caught up with Bones.

“What’s with you and Ruby?” Bones asked. He was limping badly and there was pain in his eyes, but he scanned the surrounding forest as he talked. “What’s going on there? Huh? What’s happening?”

“Pardon? Nothing.”

The troll gave a grunt of laugher. “I ain’t had much to do with stuff like that— not many trolls have— but I ain’t stupid. You fighting with her about something. Maybe not fighting. I don’t know.”

“We have not been fighting.” And it was true. They hadn’t been fighting at all. Tuki had hardly even talked to her, which might well be the same thing in this situation, he supposed. Bones seemed to think the same thing.

“Maybe not fighting, but there’s something going on. No fighting?”

Tuki looked back at Ruby.

“Something, something, something going on. That’s for sure and certain.”

“It’s just...” Tuki didn’t know if he wanted to talk to Bones about it or not. If he was going to talk to anyone, would a troll be the best choice or would he only be able to see the situation from Ruby’s perspective? He scratched at the meteor tattoo on the back of his hand. “It’s just, she killed people today. She...”

“She killed people before. Yesterday. Well maybe not yesterday. We were flying yesterday. But probably lots of people. I don’t know. She definitely killed some. Humans even, not just hurgon. Lots of people. Maybe a lot of them didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, but...”

“But you ain’t never seen her do it? She killed them though. You knew she had.”

Tuki nodded.

“You knew she had. You had to have known. I mean, she’s a troll. Did you think she was the one troll who was different? You think she was picking flowers? She was baking cakes?” He stopped and looked back at her. “You think she can bake cakes? Cakes is good.”

Of course Tuki had suspected that Ruby had killed people before. He didn’t think that was entirely the problem. “She becomes a different person when she does it. The look in her eyes—”

Bones laughed and shook his head.

“Why is that funny? It is true.”

“No it ain’t. You think there’s some magic that turns her into a dragon when she picks up a gun?” Bones shook his head. “There ain’t no magic. She don’t become a different person. Put a gun in her hand and she’s Ruby with a gun in her hand, that’s all. Ruby with a job to do.”

Tuki sighed.

“Do you think Meledrin is always like that?” Bones asked softly. “Even when she’s alone with Palsamon?”

Tuki looked at the elf, pursing his lips. Bones looked as well and seemed to be having the same thought. “Perhaps she is.”

“You’re right. Maybe she is. Not a good example, but you know what I mean. I reckon we’re all like them multeese. Lots of people inside each of us trying to take control at different times.”

“But we aren’t—”

Bones grabbed Tuki’s arm and drew him to a halt. He cocked his head to listen. It seemed he was about to call out to Flint but, up at the front of the line, Flint had paused too. Tuki turned and saw Ruby looking back the way they’d come. She had her gun raised.

“Ruby?” Flint called, taking a few steps towards her.

She held up her hand. “Something’s alive in that damn ship.”

“Can’t be,” Bones said. He went to join her. “No. Nothing lived through that crash. Can’t be.”

Tuki stayed where he was, resisting the urge to turn and flee. He jumped when Flint stepped up beside him.

“There’s something in there all right,” Bones said. He raised his gun. “I can hear it. You hear it, Ruby?”

“Can’t be,” Flint said, echoing Bones’ words of a minute earlier. Tuki was starting to think that there could be. He doubted both Bones and Ruby would be wrong about something like that. He doubted even one of them would be wrong.

Then the two of them started shooting. And they turned and ran along the track.

“Run,” Ruby said. “There’s dozens of them coming out.”

“Them three legged bastards?”

“Yep.”

Tuki took two steps along the track, but Ruby grabbed his arm and pulled him down the slope and into the trees.

A moment later, a multeese weapon fired and a hurgon tumbled to the ground. More weapons fired. Tuki heard something whiz past his head. He hunched his shoulders and changed direction, heading for a large tree.

Brother Koli was running right behind him, looking unconcerned.

Tuki reached the tree and slid to a halt. He looked back in time to see Koli struck down. The hurgon fell heavily, as if all his bones had suddenly turned to jelly. He hit the ground hard, bounced, rolled, and stopped right near the base of the tree in a tangle of limbs. He had a large, ugly mark in the middle of his back. Tuki stared for a moment, swallowed. He glanced out into the trees, then back at the hurgon. And it took a moment for him to realize Koli was still breathing.

Ruby was right. The multeese weapons were not made for killing. That was crazy, but now he had proof. Koli had been hit dead center but still lived. Tuki swallowed again, then darted out into the open and pulled Koli to safety. After a moment of indecision he hefted the alien onto his shoulder. He was big and heavy and Tuki didn’t know how far he could go, but he went in search of Flint or Meledrin. He kept low, and wove from side to side.

Every moment, he expected the feel the heat of a weapon.

* * *

Ping watched as another section of pipe was swung around on the crane and lowered onto the roof. Tasko untied it, then Peak and Scree hoisted it up onto their shoulders and started to walk. Ping picked up the bucket of sealant she’d been sent to fetch and followed along behind. The roofs of most of the buildings in the compound were three stories, but that didn’t mean they were exactly the same height. Some of the makeshift bridges that had been laid over the narrow streets climbed at alarming angles, or led on roundabout routes that skirted taller or shorter structures. The trolls maneuvered the long pipe around tight corners and over gaps without slowing. They chatted and sang bawdy marching songs. Two men who knew how to find enjoyment in little things. Ping carried her bucket silently in their wake and couldn’t help but smile. Behind her came two hurgon with another pipe, trudging along silently.

Shifting the bucket to another hand, Ping carefully negotiated a particularly steep bridge. Up ahead, Scree suddenly stopped singing. He stopped dead.

“Whats do you mean?” he shouted. “Cat piss on that.”

Ping stopped as well.

“Are you sures?” Scree said, quietly this time, and Ping realized he was talking to someone in his head. He put the pipe down and sat on a strange piece of equipment. He rubbed his face. “Let me knows. I’ll send the Lander.”

A pause.

“I know, but what choice haves we gots? You’re nowhere near the railway tracks.” He seemed to realize he was talking out loud for the first time.

Ping watched as he continued silently. The hurgon went past with their pipe, edging past Peak, continuing forward as if they didn’t realize what had just happened. As if they didn’t realize that Scree losing control like that was a thing to cause concern.

“We couldn’t know Scree,” Peak said. He ran his fingers through his crazy tussock of hair. “Maybe we wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway.”

“That ain’t the points, Peak, and you know it. I told you not to go back.”

Ping put her bucket down and cleared her throat. “What is it, Scree? What happened?”

Scree sighed. “Them multeese guns... The robot...” He kicked the pipe near his feet. “They don’t kill. They just knocks you unconscious.”

Ping licked her lips. “Surely that’s a good thing.”

Scree bent to pick up the pipe and surged to his feet with it on his shoulder. Peak looked at his end, where it still rested on the ground. “We left Pool out there,” he said, his one eye blinking. “We left her outside the gate.”

Ping opened her mouth. They’d thought Pool was dead, killed when they were trying to get back into the compound, and left her for the robots. She swallowed, blinked away tears. When she looked up, Peak and Scree had gone, around the next building and out of sight. She hurried to catch up.

At the work site, it was as if everything was normal, even if Scree wasn’t singing and laughing as he had been a short while earlier. He was gruff and blustering and shouting orders, though Keeble had everything under control. He, Bargle and Mintar had already fitted the new pipe into the old and were tightening the clamps. Ping glanced at Scree, then rushed forward and started to apply the sealant. She hoped everything would hold together long enough.

28: Battles

Ping jumped when something cracked and a piece of metal broke. Keeble swore. The clamp he’d been tightening had snapped, sending one piece rocketing into the side of a building.

“Useless crap,” Keeble said. “The hurgon—”

“Not their fault, Keeble,” Tasko said. “Makar’s been making these as well and he’s not taking the time to do quality checks.”

“I know, but the hurgon can get into space and this is still the best metal they can come up with.”

“They don’t need metal in space. They have the kil’ini.”

“I know, but dwarves weren’t anywhere near space but still had better metal than this.” He pulled the remains of the clamp off the pipe and went to get another from the pile. “And it’s not as if all their metal is...”

Ping looked up from her work again as Keeble trailed away to silence. “What is it, Keeble?”

But the dwarf wasn’t listening. He looked around, found the Uncle in charge of the hurgon and started waving his arms. Ping tried to follow.

“Are their any En’kumo in the compound?”

“There are approximately ten. En’kumo are here to deal with contractual matters and pass on orders.”

“Where are the En’kumo?”

“The En’kumo live in a small unit near the south gate.”

“Take Scree to them. Now.”

“Uncle Taco does not—”

“Now.” Keeble turned to Scree. “The En’kumo are working with the multeese,” he said. “They’re probably going to open the gates or something.”

“What?” Ping said, but it could not be heard over Scree asking the same question.

“Just go.” The dwarf pushed the hurgon towards the bridge. Scree and Peak followed.

“What’s going on, Keeble?” Ping asked.

“I’m an idiot.” He sat down on a waiting pipe. “There are barrels at the processing plant.”

“So?”

“So, they were stainless steel. Bright, shiny, new stainless steel. Or something like it. The hurgon can’t make anything like that.”

Ping was feeling very stupid. “So?”

“So they had to get them from somewhere else. And now the multeese are here, attacking this compound in particular.”

“So the En’kumo, or the T’loop really, have a contract with the multeese to...”

“To what? Yes, that would be the next question.”

Ping stood up, looking at the spot where Scree had disappeared. Keeble sighed and did the same.

* * *

Meledrin crouched down behind the fallen log and tried to catch her breath. She turned to talk to Flint, but the troll was not there. He had been by her side for the last half an hour so it was quite a shock to discover otherwise. She looked around and saw he was barely ten meters away, taking cover behind a tree.

“How far to the edge of the forest?” she called to him.

“Tuki reckons about two kilometers but I ain’t sure how accurate he can be with all this dodging and weaving.”

Meledrin nodded and had a quick look up over the tree. She could see none of their pursuers so she darted across the open space to the troll. Bones was another twenty meters further on having taken over the point position after Flint decided she needed protection.

“What is the location of the brothers?” But they were close by as well, crouched behind a mound of dirt, trying to catch their breath.

The muffled bang of gunfire brought Meledrin’s attention back to Flint. He was firing in the other direction.

“Come on, they’re coming again.”

Meledrin followed as he rushed on.

Three P’targa had gone down in the initial scramble, and been left behind. Another two had been rescued after Tuki’s revelation that the enemy weapons did not kill. Meledrin sighed. Brother Koli may not be dead, but it was yet to be seen if the hurgon would ever wake.

Ever since the first attack, the multeese had been steadily pushing them north, though if that was a specific plan or mere coincidence, nobody could discern. So they continued to run, holding off the enemy attacks when they could, running when they couldn’t. Another five hurgon had been hit and three left behind. So now all the brothers who remained were busy, four carrying Grandmother Donni on her stretcher, the others carrying their fallen companions.

Down into a gully that angled across their direction of travel, crouching as they ran along the bottom. Meledrin found herself beside Tuki. The lad had a gash on his cheek and was limping badly. He was still carrying Brother Koli over his shoulder, having taken him back from a hurgon after a short rest. But he looked exhausted again. Sweat was running down his face. It was doubtful he would be able to continue for much longer. It was hard to believe he had managed for as long as he had.

Meledrin stubbed her toe on a tree root and almost tripped. She caught herself before she used a trollish curse and turned her attention to what she was doing.

The sound of gunfire continued. Meledrin knew she should be afraid, but she was tired and sore and she knew it would take an hour of brushing to get the tangles from her hair. She was more angry than afraid. And she was tired. They had not run very far but they had been on the go for a long time and it didn’t look like they would be able to rest any time soon.

She looked around for Palsamon and was relieved to see him not far away.

* * *

Scree didn’t know how Keeble knew, but he wasn’t about to argue. The dwarf wasn’t the sort to say things if he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t the type who rushed into any type of commitment. So Scree followed the hurgon from one roof to the next, racing over the rickety bridge. On the next roof, Chip and Crystal were lugging a pipe around a mess of machinery.

“Drops that and come with me.”

Scree didn’t slow. He heard the pipe hit the floor and didn’t even look back. Then it was Talus and Brick. They must’ve seen something in his eyes because they were lowering their burden before he even spoke.

“Come on.”

They climbed down from the roofs then raced through the narrow, winding streets. Scree pushed past workers and stiff-legged, glassy-eyed hurgon. The complaints increased as the others came along behind.

Their guide finally stopped and pointed to the door of a tall, narrow building with bars on the windows and a big lock on the door. Scree didn’t even slow. He hit the hinge side of the door with his shoulder, then kicked twice and was inside. Nothing. He paused for a moment, listening, before the others started to come in behind him.

“Talus,” he waved the youngster up the stairs. Too late though. He knew it.

<Clear,> Talus said a second later. Then twice more as he checked each floor.

“Where’s the nearest gate?” Scree asked the hurgon. Then he had to slow down and get his brain moving so he could use the ini rituals.

When he got the idea, the hurgon led the way.

It wasn’t far. Around one corner, two, and they found a fight. Two P’targa guards were dead. Another dozen were trying to hold the gates closed and fight off the En’kumo at the same time. Scree didn’t have a weapon, but that would be easy enough to fix. He threw himself into the fight, punching and kicking, before he pulled a gun away from a stunned hurgon. He started firing and a second later, Brick and Crystal were doing the same. Peak was clubbing at the hurgon with a lump of wood he’d found on the ground. His one eye was wide and wild.

The tide of the battle inside the walls changed quickly, but the pressure on the gate was increasing. Scree fired his gun again and again then threw it on the ground and put his shoulder against the ancient, grey wood to help push. A beam of energy burst through the gap and took down an En’kumo. Scree grunted and strained, pushing, trying to find purchase for his feet. A clawed, white arm slithered through the gap, waving, thrashing, looking for something to hit. Anything. Peak was there then, attacking the arm with his lump of wood, beating and pounding for what seemed like forever.

Then the arm broke, snapped at the elbow. Blue and red sparks spat and the robot withdrew. Peak leant his strength to the door and they started to make progress. Slow, sweating progress.

The battle inside the gate quietened. Scree looked back and saw that there was only one En’kumo remaining. It didn’t last long. Then Brick and the other trolls hit the door like the men in one of Keeble’s rugby games. The door started to move faster. More bolts of energy found a way through the closing gap, but nobody was hurt. Scree pushed and heaved until the door thudded home, then spun around and stood with his back against it, heels wedged into a join in the cobbles, while a huge bar was lowered.

Finally, he slid down to the ground, breathing deeply. “Is that all of them?” he asked, gesturing to the En’kumo. Then he swore and used the ini’ rituals.

There were definitely supposed to be ten, and there were definitely ten. Scree drew in a ragged breath and sighed. That was done.

Now, pipes.

“Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet and started heading back towards the work site.

29: Time

Meledrin ducked behind a rock and leaned back to rest. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to breathe. A touch on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

“What is it, Palsamon?”

“Are you well?”

For a moment she did not answer. She closed her eyes and breathed some more. “Yes. Thank you. I merely need to rest.”

“Soon, hopefully. Where is Flint?”

At that moment the troll came and slumped down by their side. He’d been helping the remaining hurgon carry their unconscious companions and trying to keep everyone moving. It looked as if he had run five times as far as anyone else and it was quite possible.

“How far away is Scree?”

“Scree ain’t driving. Shardy is.”

“I am not really concerned about the identity of the driver.”

“Right. She won’t be long. Five minutes, maybe.”

“Can we wait that long?”

Flint nodded but checked over the top of the rock, as if wondering if they could wait. He ducked back down quickly and Meledrin started to worry. The troll signaled to Ruby, Bones and Amy McCree. Then he tried some of the ini rituals to the hurgon. And he sat down to wait while the others spread out. Another signal and those on one side of the line jumped out from behind their cover and fired. Seconds later they ducked back out of sight. Then the other side. Then the middle. Palsamon jumped up as well, though Meledrin tried to stop him. He fired his weapon several times then dropped to the ground.

“I do not know if that is wise, Palsamon. You could be injured.”

Palsamon was fiddling with his gun. “So only the trolls and hurgon should risk themselves?”

“It is their role.” That was true enough, but Meledrin discovered that her concerns were more personal, and more selfish.

“We are fighting this war together. I might not be as skilled as they, but I can assist. Topper and the dwarves are helping.”

Palsamon looked around when Flint jumped up again and a moment later did the same. He fired. Hid.

“Palsamon, please stay hidden.” She was still unsure that she really knew what love was, but she admitted to herself that her life would be a much darker and colder place without Palsamon in it. She waved a Greater Changing. “If you were to be hurt, I am not sure what I would do.”

Palsamon was staring at her. Meledrin blushed and ducked her head.

“Shardy’s here.” Flint was looking out towards the open ground beyond the edge of the trees. “There.” He pointed.

Meledrin tried to see the Lander. She could see nothing until she shifted and finally saw the craft coming in from behind a tree. It was already being fired upon. It took a moment for Meledrin to realize that it was being targeted from the sides. She thought of pointing out the fact to Flint— it might be important— but decided he would already know.

“Come on you lot. That rock over there.” He ran and Meledrin had no choice but to follow. She leapt over a fallen branch, wove, slipped between two trees and stopped behind the rock Flint had indicated. The troll was running backwards, firing into the trees. The other wings of the defensive line were coming as well, heading for the same hiding place.

It was crowded behind the rock and Meledrin was unsure of the strategic sense of grouping everyone together, but she had not noticed any other options as she ran so could not really complain.

The clear ground was only a few meters away, but with the trees thinning it was possible to see the multeese warriors closing in from all around.

“Where is Shardy?” Meledrin asked, pushing hair away from her face.

But she located the Lander again as it dropped below the height of the trees, humming and clattering as if something were wrong. The multeese weapons were constantly hitting it. Clouds of dust billowed into the air.

“Are we to go?” Meledrin asked.

“Not yet. Wait.”

The Lander thumped down onto the ground and Chasm jumped down from the back. She had a weapon in each hand, larger than the ones usually used by the trolls, and started to fire.

“Now.” Flint shouted and waved his arms at the same time. Hakans and hurgon moved as one, heading for the Lander. Meledrin stumbled and someone held her upright. She didn’t know who. The weapons kept firing around her. Dosa was hit. She flopped to the ground right in front of Meledrin. Meledrin almost fell over her. She stopped, reached down and grabbed the dwife’s arm. Someone else grabbed another arm.

Dogar looked up at Meledrin. “Don’t just stand there.”

They dragged Dosa towards the Lander. Meledrin concentrated on the back door, willing it closer. Her hand was slippery with sweat but she tightened her grip, holding on. And between one moment and the next Dosa seemed to double in weight. She looked back and Dogar was lying on the ground, limp and motionless. Meledrin kept moving mindlessly for seconds.

“Dogar!” But obviously he didn’t reply.

The multeese were coming, streaming from the trees, closing on the Lander from all sides. Hurgon and trolls were climbing up. Grandmother Donni was handed inside. Topper and Hoodek climbed up. Tuki. Hurgon were scrambling up. One fell. Another.

The multeese were getting closer.

Then Meledrin was at the back of the Lander and hands were pulling her inside. And Dosa too.

Flint, Ruby, and Chasm were the only ones left outside. Meledrin saw Flint take a step towards Dogar. But the multeese were almost there and Ruby pulled him back. She pulled him into the Lander and the others were onboard a moment later.

Meledrin watched as the multeese warriors swarmed over the still form of Dogar as the Lander leapt into the air. She was crying, but didn’t even notice.

* * *

Kim froze.

“Greetings, scuttle bug. Multeese sees you there. Did you think we would not?”

She turned to look at the screen on the back wall of the bridge. The old, inhuman, humanoid face of the multeese was there. Or not the multeese. No more than the robots surrounding the Hakahei were.

Kim swallowed. “Well, we were hoping.” It was barely audible.

“Well, you have annoyed multeese one time too many now. Multeese has plans, schedules, and you are in the way. Once multeese have finished collection in this region, multeese will go to your region, to clean up the mess.”

What would Scree do? What would he say? He’d insult the bastard, or he’d try to get every advantage he could. “Ummm... How long?” It was probably arrogant enough to answer.

“Two hours until we arrive, but multeese roboids...” A flicker on the screen. “Multeese robots have been reprogrammed. Hakans were unexpected. That will no longer be the case. The battle will be over before multeese arrives.”

And it was gone. Kim could breathe again. She turned to look at Inaki. The lad was sitting, mouth open, eyes wide. Lisarea was there as well, standing near the lift. The elf looked as scared as Inaki.

“What do we do, mo’shi?”

Kim had no idea but didn’t say so. It wasn’t what the moai wanted to hear.

Lisarea cleared her throat. “Perhaps you should alert Stone,” she suggested.

Good idea. But not just Stone. She got on the radio. “Thorpe, Chasm, Tasko and Stone come to the security office please. Now.” She hoped somebody had an idea.

She rolled herself over to the lift and went down. When she arrived, Stone was already there. Thorpe arrived a minute later, then Dido.

“Dido?”

“Tasko isn’t here, Kim. I’m not sure who is.”

“Right. You’re up then. What about Chasm?”

“She’s off getting Meledrin and the others,” Stone said.

“Right.” Kim looked at the others. Not the sort of brain trust she’d been hoping for.

But Stone was fiddling with his radio. “Scree, you there? Flint?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, got ya.”

“Everyone all right with you, Flint?” Kim asked.

A second of silence. “We lost Dogar and Quartz.”

Kim sat back.

Stone said, “What about you, Scree?”

“We’re all fine. Bloody bastards.”

“What happened?” Kim hadn’t known there was any reason to worry.

Stone explained. “The En’kumo delegation in the compound tried to open a gate for the multeese.”

“What?”

“Exactly. Keeble worked out that the processing plant in there—”

“The one we know nothing about?”

“Yeah. That’s built for the multeese.”

“So the En’kumo have a contract with them? And were trying to let them in?”

“That’s about it.”

“Shit. Christ.” Kim rubbed her face as if that might erase the past few weeks of her life. “It does explain one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Just had a call from the multeese. Seems we’ve pissed them off.”

“We pissed thems off?”

“Yep. I imagine they were supposed to be in and using the plant by now. Whatever the hell it’s for.”

“You must be right,” Stone said. “Lisarea’s up on the bridge. She reckons there’s a whole heap of multeese ships landing around the compound. Smaller than them other ones though. Maybe they’re the ones that were inside.”

“What?”

“There was a smaller ships inside the big ship that we blews up.”

“Right. You didn’t think to tell me this?” Not that it made any difference, really, seeing she didn’t know what they were for.

Nobody said anything for a while, then Flint asked. “So what happens now?”

“The multeese reckons we’ve got about two hours until it arrives here personally. But in the mean time the robots have been reprogrammed.”

Stone winced.

“You know what that means?”

Stone shrugged. “For an enemy with technological superiority the multeese have been a bit tentative. They could’ve wiped out most of the planet by now if they wanted. But their weapons weren’t even killing us, apparently, just knocking us out.”

“But...” Kim pictured Pool being shot outside the compound door. “Pool.” She closed her eyes in the silence.

Flint spoke first. “So now we’ve got two hours against a more determined enemy, until the real problems arrive?”

“Sounds like abouts it,” Scree replied.

“Well, we should be back in a few minutes.”

“Keeble ain’t anywhere near ready, Flint.”

“Well, he’d better work something out. You want us in the ship or the compound?”

Kim didn’t know. But they probably couldn’t do much from in the ship. She looked around at the others. “The compound, I think.”

Thorpe and Stone both nodded.

“The compound.”

“All right, then.”

“See you soon, Flint.”

Kim sat back in her seat. “Do you know anything about what’s going on with Keeble, Dido?”

The dwife shook her head.

“Can he do it?”

Another shake of the head. “They still wouldn’t even have enough pipe.”

Kim swore. “Well, you guys work on that. I’m going to see if I can find out what Tuki was reading about the multeese.” She should have checked earlier— she’d known for hours— but the damn T’loop must have hit hear on the head, because she couldn’t think straight. Creatures made out of gas? Maybe the bump on the head was making her hear things as well.

30: Gas

Ping put down her brush. “Stop, Keeble.”

“We’ve got two hours. We can’t just give up.”

Ping sighed. “I know that, but we don’t have enough pipe, even if we could put it together quick enough.”

“So we just sit here and wait to die?”

“No. We think.”

“Right, because we haven’t tried that before. And it might just find us another 300 meters of pipe.”

“It’s no use doing pointless work.”

Keeble obviously didn’t agree, but he threw down his tools and sat on the now useless piece of pipe.

Ping stayed where she was, eyes closed. Everyone else was silent as well.

“How much do we needs to get us into space?” Scree asked.

Keeble shrugged. “Not that much. A couple of thousand liters if we can go straight up.”

“Can we turn the Lander into a tanker?” Tasko asked. “We could seal it with the pipe sealant and...”

“If we had more time, then yes. But we’d have to seal everything. Every piece of equipment that might cause a spark. And that means building a wall to separate the cockpit and—”

“All right. We get it.”

“Good idea, though.”

“Yeah, great.”

Ping couldn’t think. She wasn’t like the dwarves. She didn’t think better amidst the clatter of activity and life. Rising to her feet, she moved away from the others. She crossed a bridge to the next roof and, with the others still arguing behind her, across to the next. This was the last one. The Hakahei was just beyond, rising high above the compound. Ping stopped where she was for a moment to look and think. She could hear the sounds of the multeese robots as they moved. They were trying to get in all around the compound, though they had not come equipped, seeing they expected to be let through the gate.

After three and a half minutes of standing, Ping got down and crawled to the edge of the roof. She found a spot between a bucket and pipe-fitting where, she hoped, she could remain hidden. And she lay there. She could still hear the others, but now the sound of voices was a comforting presence, not a distraction. Some robots were pounding on the gates with the largest of their three hands while others were shooting the timber and the rest milled about, waiting. They did not appear to be having any luck, but that could change at any moment. She looked further afield. And as if to confirm her suspicions, a troop of robots was coming down out of the hills with a tree held between them. A battering ram.

Ping thought of going to tell Scree, but they would find out soon enough, if Inaki or Peni or whoever was on the bridge hadn’t already informed them.

And the Hakahei. Home. Apparently it was immune to the alien attacks as well, or they hadn’t bothered trying. From what she understood of things like robots, they only did what they were programmed to do. If these had been told to take the compound, they might well try to do that to the exclusion of all else. They had been reprogrammed, but in how much detail? Would they attack the ship, or had the multeese not even given thought to the possibility. So perhaps the Hakahei was safe for the moment. For another two hours, hopefully.

The ruins of the old compound spread around the ship. The crater where the gas had exploded. The hills beyond.

Ping sat up. She sat down again very quickly when she realized she was exposed to the robots below. But... Ping slid back from the edge and raced back across the roof. She clattered across the bridge, around the high part of the next roof, across the next bridge. The others were quiet now, lost in their own thoughts. Perhaps they were trying to come up with a plan. Perhaps they were thinking of their deaths. Ping skidded to a stop, breathless and trying to talk.

“Keeble.”

“What?” he hardly roused.

Deep breath. Calm. “We don’t need a kilometer of pipe. We need... A hundred meters. At most. Maybe.”

That got his attention. Everyone sat up straighter. Everyone leaned forward.

“The old compound. The old gas works. They’re right out there.” Ping pointed, as if they might not know. “The reservoir must still be under there as well. Right under the ship, maybe.”

Ping followed Keeble as he raced back the way she had come. The others thumped across the bridge behind them.

* * *

Kim made her way into Tuki’s office. She sat in her wheelchair in the middle of the room and slowly spun around. There was one big, empty desk— no computer, no coffee cup, no pen holder— and one wall full of what looked like filing cabinets. That made the first decision easy. She rolled over to the first cabinet and had a look inside. It was full of files. The first she pulled out seemed to contain information about a planet and its inhabitants.

“Right then,” she said, “where the hell are the multeese then?” She didn’t really know what order the Rongo alphabet was in, so she started at one end and worked her way towards the other, looking in each drawer. Halfway along, she found the right letter near the front of the drawer and she found the file on the multeese. It wasn’t very big. Over at the desk she opened the file and read from the single sheet of paper.

“According to Hadrint Trycod Ti Delamanan of the Wanakama people, the multeese were created in a laboratory by an ancient race known only as Zo. Trycod states that Eese gas particles were treated (details of this are unclear) in an attempt to create energy. This experiment failed but when a certain critical mass was reached the gas cloud became a reasoning being. The difficulty for the multeese lies in the fact that each particle remains self aware— with its own desires and agendas— but no ability to act without a general consensus from the cloud. What results is a being run by committee.

“Trycod also suggests that the multeese is exclusively male and has no suggestion as to methods of reproduction.

“As ever, Trycod is reluctant to share his source material. This, added with his known loose handling of facts, has led many to doubt all his conclusions.”

“Things that are universally believed? The multeese think all other creatures are inferior and want them dead. The multeese may well be right, for they have technology far beyond anything we have ever seen. Many other species agree. The multeese never stay still— their ships (or perhaps it is just one ship) rove constantly around the known galaxy, turning up without warning and moving on as quickly, often leaving in the middle of battles for no apparent reason. (Some might conclude that this supports Trycod’s assertion that it is a being run by committee.)

“No matter the background or the reasons, in the end one thing is certain— all species, all races, dread the arrival of a multeese ship.”

That was it? That was all the information hakans had been able to gather on the multeese? A lot of guesswork and... And not much else, really.

None of it helped. Kim pushed the file away and watched it slide across the glass top of the desk and onto the floor.

“Damn it.” She left the paper where it was and wheeled herself out of the office.

She wheeled to the lift, then changed her mind and went to her cabin. She lay down on the bed, arms across her face, and tried to think.

“We’ve got homicidal maniacs made out of gas,” she said softly. “They killed hundreds of the hurgon before without batting an eye. Now, suddenly, they’ve set their phasers to stun. Why would they do that?

“Because deep down they’re actually nice guys and they just want the universe to like them?

“No? The multeese haven’t changed. They, it, whatever, are still doing what’s best for them. So the hurgon have changed?” Have they changed? Cuto still seemed like the solid, dependable guy he had been. Kim hadn’t seen him much recently but...

“I should find Cuto and talk to him, actually. I haven’t even thanked him for saving my life.” But that didn’t matter now. Everyone was busy.

“Right, so have the hurgon changed?” She hadn’t really seen any of them recently to know, locked up in the ship like she was. She stood up, ignored the wheelchair, and went out into her office. She sat down, found the radio, and turned it on.

31: Knowledge

“Scree, are you there?” Kim said into the radio.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“Have the hurgon changed?”

“What?”

“Have the hurgon changed.”

“What are you talking abouts? No. Theys still the same dopey buggers they ever were.”

“No, I mean—”

Flint joined the conversation. “Some have changed,” he said, “but not all of them. They got a choice and most of them do what’s best for the family.”

Now Kim was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The change thing they do. They just do what the Grandmother wants them to do.”

“What change thing?”

“What are you talking about?” Flint asked. Apparently the confusion was infectious.

“What are you talking about?”

“The change thing, where they have to choose if they’re male or female. Or something like that.”

“The hurgon are choosing if they’re male of female?”

“Well, like I said, the Grandmother and her assistants do the choosing, but yeah, basically.”

“They’re doing this now?”

“Yep. Apparently it’s breeding season or something. Some choose to be male, some choose to be female. They got different words for it though. Then they mate and lay eggs or.. I don’t know. Tuki didn’t give me the details. Knowing Tuki he probably didn’t get the details about something like that.”

“They’re breeding?”

“Not yet, I don’t think. Just getting ready.”

“Reproducing?”

“Yeah—”

But Kim was already out the door and heading back to Tuki’s office. Her foot hurt. Her knee and ribs hurt but she hardly noticed. She almost threw herself onto the floor, scrabbling for the piece of paper she’d thrown there earlier. She found the line she was after and read again. “Trycod also suggests that the multeese is exclusively male and has no suggestion as to methods of reproduction.”

She sat on the floor and stared at the paper.

“Shit.” She found Tuki’s radio and turned it on. “Flint?”

“Where’d you go,” Scree asked. “You all right?”

“I’m fine. Flint, how often do the hurgon breed?”

There was a moment of silence before Flint came back on. “Tuki says about once every century. I reckon that’d be a hurgon century though, so how long was that?”

Kim couldn’t remember exactly what Cuto had told her, back in the old days when they were escaping from Area 51. But... “A few hundred. I’m pretty sure it’s a few hundred.”

“Why?” Scree asked. “Whats you got?”

“The multeese are exclusively male and so they can’t reproduce naturally. They have factories here and they turn up just as the hurgon are starting to breed. And they don’t want to kill the hurgon where a couple of weeks ago they were blowing them out of the sky everywhere.”

“So... Whats?” Scree asked.

Flint answered. “So they only knock the hurgon out because they want them to be fresh when they put them through those damn processing plants.”

“They need hormones or... Estrogen... Or whatever, to reproduce.”

Kim thought of all the ships that were lining up outside. Bringing in the hurgon to be ‘processed’. All of them still alive.

* * *

Keeble stopped when he was well short of the edge, but he was already questing forward with is mind, feeling the stone under the Hakahei and around close by. He heard everyone else behind him, breathing, waiting.

“The stone is deep beneath the ship,” Tasko said.

Keeble nodded. “Not where the crater is though. It’s thirteen meters thick there.” He turned to look at Ping and smiled. “Well done, Ping.”

“Thirteen meters,” Ari said. “That’s just two pipes.”

“Plus the depth of the crater,” Bargle said. “Then to the ship. Ten sections of pipe all up.”

“We’ve got plenty,” Peak said.

“Yeah, but have you noticed all the damn killer robots down there?”

“You worry abouts the pipe,” Scree said. “We’ll worry abouts the robots.”

Keeble shook his head. “Right, of course, we’ll worry about the pipe.”

Down below, he could hear the robots becoming more active. There was a long boom and a rapid volley of gunfire.

“What was that?” Ari asked, scratching at her broken arm and looking nervous.

“They gots a ram,” Scree said.

“Great.”

“And there’s that as well.” The troll pointed to the sky. The Lander was flying in. Shardy was coming almost straight down. The robots were firing upwards, but it didn’t look as if they were going to have any luck.

“Huh. The Lander,” Bargle said. “We set the pipe up in two sections and carry them in with the Lander. Then all we have to do is join them.”

Keeble nodded. There was no time to waste. “Tasko, you’re in charge of getting from the reservoir to beneath the ship. I’ll get up to the ship from the ground.”

“Right.” Tasko said. A second later he was shouting orders and looking at the pipes lying across the roof.

“I’ll need these two as is,” Keeble said. The one that was partly in the ship and the one attached to it. He’d put a elbow join on the end, then two pipes to get them to the ground then just push the whole thing further into the ship. He explained to Tasko.

The other dwarf nodded. “Why don’t we do that, but just drop it over the edge. That’ll save us the trouble of using the Lander to slide it all the way in. We can bring the other pipes here as easily as to the ship. It’ll be one extra bit at most.”

Keeble gave it a second’s thought. “Right.” He’d be done in about ten minutes. He started working on the clamp at the end of the pipe. “Ping, I need—” But Peak had already brought an elbow.

Before he had attached the elbow, the Lander touched down on an adjoining roof and everyone piled out. Keeble didn’t have time to pay any attention. Trolls and hurgon rushed to pick up two sections of pipe. Bargle had already disconnected the other end. They wove around obstacles then set it down in place. They slipped it into the elbow. Keeble started on the clamp and Ping worked with the sealant. A well-oiled machine.

“Now what?” Ari asked.

“Everyone on this pipe,” he said.

Those who’d been in the Lander had come across the roofs to look. Meledrin was there and a whole bunch of hurgon, including an old one on a stretcher.

The trolls and dwarves came to help.

Keeble examined the line of them, ready to go beside the pipe.

Topper was lined up next to Ping. Keeble saw her take the other dwarf’s hand for a moment.

“Hello, Topper,” she said.

Topper reacted to the momentary contact and Keeble couldn’t help but smile. He glanced at Ari and the dwife was looking at him. He gave a quick nod, then looked away.

“We ready?” Keeble asked Tasko and Drago and they started to Sing, focusing on the point where the pipe entered the ship. Everyone pushed. For a moment it looked as if nothing was going to happen. Then the pipe started to slide. Five seconds later it had fallen over the edge and everyone cheered. Keeble risked a look. The end of the pipe had embedded in the ground, but it was nothing that a good lever wouldn’t fix.

“Thirty degrees,” Bargle said.

“What?”

“We’ll need a thirty degree elbow.”

“Whistler. Course we will. Off you go then.”

Ten minutes and one part of the operation was complete. The easiest part, obviously. Tasko was arranging his sections of pipe, getting the pieces in place. Four lengths attached to three. One of the ends was blocked by a leather cuff so the Sung stone wouldn’t go up inside. Trolls and hurgon were rushing to do as they were told. But it didn’t fit on the roof properly. Tasko should’ve checked. Keeble should’ve checked. They changed the angles, shifted pipes, cursed and swore until it finally fit, laying across three roofs, hanging out into thin air at one end. The clamps were going on. Ping ran from join to join with her bucket of sealant, slopping it on with no care for being tidy.

Half an hour and they were done. Keeble stood up, worked the muscles in his back. He looked at Tasko. He looked at Bargle and Drago.

“Are we ready?”

Tasko nodded.

“How’s the length?”

“A bit longer than I would have liked, but it’ll do.”

Keeble nodded. “Damn. Have we got ropes that will hold this much weight? Seven sections of pipe?” They only had one bit of rope and it was attached to the crane.

“Whistler. No.”

“Chains. There must be some somewhere.”

They sent the hurgon to get some. And they waited. And waited. It was half an hour before they returned, six of them lugging two huge chains between them. They’d hold. So they shackled the chains to the pipes, then Shardy brought the Lander over, setting it down carefully on the roof, and they shackled them there as well.

“We’ll need someone to undo the shackles,” Keeble said.

Scree nodded but didn’t say anything.

Peak stepped up. “I’ll do it.”

Scree nodded again.

“A dwarf will have to go too,” Keeble said. “So you know where the hole is.”

After another moment of silence, Hoodek cleared his throat. “Guess that would be me then.”

“Just remember,” Flint said, “you’ll get dead if you’re shot now.”

“Yeah. I know.” Peak climbed into the back of the Lander as Shardy started the engine.

“I’d rather you didn’t remind me,” Hoodek muttered as he followed.

Keeble swore. “And we need to get the cover off the end somehow. Otherwise the gas won’t get through anyway.”

“Rope,” Ari said. “Tie a rope to the knot and just pull the rope when the end of the pipe is through.”

“We need rope.”

The rope on the crane wasn’t long enough so a hurgon went to get another. It was attached to the cuff so it could be released and Peak was told what he had to do.

Time ticked away.

“We ready, dwarves?” Getting the pipes joined wouldn’t be easy.

Tasko, Bargle, Drago and Ari nodded. So did Ping.

“We’ll need some muscle too, Scree.”

Tim McCree had been working on the pipes from the start. He volunteered. And Chasm, Flint, Brick and Cuto.

Keeble gave them all a nod of thanks. “We’ll go straight down here, then out through the wall. They probably won’t even know we’re there with all the commotion. He Sang them a hole down to the top floor of the building, jumping down onto some tables. Then down again, and they found a long section of small gauge metal pipe in a storeroom. Down the stairs to ground level.

Keeble took a deep breath and reshaped his Song. “This is us right here,” he said. “We ready.”

“We better be,” Chasm said. “Shardy just took off.”

32: Throwing Stones

Keeble nodded and threw his Song at the wall. Catapults were lobbing stones close by, shattering against the ground and against the robots. Then the area was all but clear and Keeble stepped through the wall. And when they were all out he shifted the focus of his Song, sliding it down into the ground and then out towards the crater. While he Sang, the others worked on getting the pipe out of the ground. They used the smaller pipe they’d found and used Bargle’s thirty-degree elbow as a fulcrum. They heaved and pushed as Keeble searched for the thin piece of rock in the crater. He found it, expanded his Song, concentrating on the musical flows as things continued to happen around him.

Rocks fell from the sky. The guns of the Hakahei were being used as well— it was no use hiding any more. And if this didn’t work, then all the battery power in the world wouldn’t make any difference. Robots died, spitting sparks and exploding or simply ceasing to function. Chasm, Flint and Cuto put their weight onto the lever. More rocks. And the big hurgon gun shattered multeese robots, sending out showers of shrapnel.

Shardy flew lower, positioning the pipe over the crater, then slowly took it down. Peak was hanging out the door, firing madly. Hoodek must have been hiding.

Keeble hardly noticed any of it. His Song was stretched. It was stretching him. He was focused a long way from his body and it was a big hole. It was all he could do to keep the edges of his thoughts from unraveling and spinning away into the stone. He clung to his Song, fluttering at the seams to keep it all together.

Finally, they levered the end of the pipe out of the ground. Flint and Chasm took up their weapons, checked their surroundings, then headed towards Shardy and the Lander. Cuto went with them. Brick and Tim stayed where they were, keeping watch on the work party. The catapults and hurgon guns up on the walls were firing constantly.

One end of Shardy’s pipe had already sunk into Keeble’s hole. Keeble narrowed the hole and the whole assembly started to change orientation, one side shifting towards perpendicular, the other towards horizontal. All the way down. Flint and his followers reached the horizontal section of pipe just as it came within reach of the ground. Cuto and Chasm grabbed on and started swinging it around to where it needed to be. Flint kept watch.

Bargle, Tasko, Ari were fitting the elbow to the bottom of the pipe that came from the Hakahei. They worked quickly, tightening the clamp. Ping slopped on the sealant. They all concentrated fiercely on their tasks.

Rocks rained down from above. The pipe came around.

Keeble adjusted his hole. He brought it closer so Flint could bring the pipe closer. The pressure in his mind eased slightly.

A robot fell at Keeble’s feet, almost breaking his concentration. A cold, dead-eyed stare. The bladed arm waved dangerously until Brick shot the machine again.

Then the end of the pipe was right there and Keeble jumped. It was gaping at him like the mouth of some strange beast. The trolls and humans manhandled it into position as Shardy carefully lowered it to the ground. The end slipped into the elbow.

They clamped it, sealed it, in record time and Tasko gave a signal. Peak released the chains and pulled on the rope to release the cover. He was back in the Lander in less than twenty seconds and the craft shot up into the air.

Something exploded. Something whizzed past Keeble’s face. He clung to his Song. A pair of robots were burning with fierce blue flames.

Keeble felt a touch on his arm and turned to see Tasko give the thumbs up. So he reeled in his Song with an effort, and pushed it into the wall at his back. He felt hands pulling him through the stone, stumbled, then lost consciousness.

* * *

Kim was sitting in the gallery when a group of people came through the door a few minutes later. There were dwarves, trolls, humans and hurgon.

“Is Keeble all right?” she asked. She thought she should probably greet Grandmother Donni or something but stayed where she was.

Brick found a seat close by. “Passed out for a second, that’s all. He’s down there shouting at people now.”

“Good.”

“Those catapults worked pretty well,” Tasko said taking a seat as well.

Kim nodded. “Thank God.”

Scree grunted. “Better than expected. Maybe we can makes one that’ll knock downs that mothership?”

Tasko smiled. “I’ll talk to Makar but I don’t think we can make one big enough.”

Kim grunted. “Unfortunately.”

“Bit of a worry if we have to resort to throwing stones, I reckon.”

“It worked heres.”

“Yeah, but on the ship they’ve got shields,” Tasko said, “and guns that can shoot our rocks out of the sky.”

Kim sighed and sat back in her seat. Was that the only thing that made the rocks a bad idea? Shields and guns? Was that the only thing that stood between them and victory? When you said it like that, it didn’t seem like much at all.

Kim turned her attention back out the window. Flint was in the weapons chair, working to thin out the robots, and other trolls were helping from the weapons room below. The hurgon were going to need all the help they could get.

“How’s the batteries going with all this shooting?” Scree asked.

“We’re doing all right,” Kim said. “Hopefully we can kill all of them before we go.”

“Won’t do any good. There’s lots more where them came from.”

“Shut up, Scree.”

Scree waved the comment away. “Best things we can do for the hurgon is draw the multeese mothership after us.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Didn’t say I wanted to do it. Just said it was the best things for the hurgon.”

Tasko smiled. “We can’t throw rocks at them if they’re too far away.”

* * *

Kim shook her head. “One thing we’re definitely going to do on the way out is blow up that damn processing plant. I don’t care if we do it with a rock, just make sure we do it.”

Tasko cleared his throat.

“What?” Kim snapped. She didn’t want anyone telling her it couldn’t be done.

Tasko pulled on his beard. “That plant uses a lot of hydrogen. A lot of hydrogen. And it’s stored underground everywhere around here. It should be easy enough to blow up, I just suggest you make sure we’re a few kilometers up when you decide to do it.”

“A few kilometers?”

Tasko nodded. “On the bright side, when you blow up the compound you should also blow up every one of those multeese ships that are sitting around waiting to get in.”

“Shit.” Kim shook her head. Was it worth killing all the hurgon to get a few of the robots as well? Would the hurgon be conscious when they went into the processing plant? She glanced at Grandmother Donni, sweating silently in one of the gallery chairs. The alien saw her watching.

“Donni would appreciate it if Kim did not kill the P’targa,” Donni signed. “The P’targa may well die soon, but at least there is a chance.”

Kim nodded. “Of course.” But none of it would really matter if the Hakahei didn’t get off the ground pretty soon. “Scree?”

But Scree wasn’t paying any attention. He was staring out the window. Kim followed his gaze. All she saw was one of the catapults, being manned by some hurgon.

“Scree?”

The troll rose to his feet. “I gots to think.” He headed for the lift.

“Shit.” Kim was tired of thinking. That was all she’d been doing, stuck in her stupid wheelchair, and she wanted to do something. If she thought throwing rocks might help in anyway, she would’ve been willing to give it a try.

But they couldn’t do anything. Not until someone down below told them they could leave. And even then, all they could do was run away, as usual.

Kim sat back and closed her eyes.

“How can we beat the ship?” she muttered. She didn’t think she said it loud enough for anyone else to hear.

But Brick answered. “We can’t.”

“Don’t talk unless you are going to say something interesting.” Kim said, opening her eyes again. “The multeese aren’t gods, I don’t think, so there must be a way to beat them.”

Brick nodded. “But that’s an entirely different question.”

Kim narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“First you asked how to beat the ship. Then you asked how to beat the multeese. Two different questions.”

Kim nodded slowly. “Right.” She was thinking herself in knots. “But surely we have to beat the ship to beat the multeese.”

Brick just shrugged.

Kim turned to look out the window. Brick was right, even if it didn’t help. She stared out the window while she imagined a hundred ways to beat a vastly superior spacecraft. And the catapult outside threw another rock, crushing a robot below.

Eventually, hours later, it seemed, Ping’s voice came over the intercom. “We’re ready to go, Bargle. Just be careful at first— Keeble and the others are Singing so the pipes can come out.”

Bargle was ready and had them moving in an instant. He lifted them gently off the ground while he spoke into his microphone. “Strap yourselves in,” he said, “we’re about to take off.” Ten meters up, twenty.

Kim gripped the side of her seat and bit her lip.

Then Ping came over the intercom again. “Good to go.”

Bargle pushed the thrust lever and threw the Hakahei into the sky.

Kim held on while the internal gravity caught up then tried to relax as she looked out the window. As they got higher, relaxing became impossible. The multeese mothership was rising like a new moon, coming around the side of the planet. Any second now...

“Run, scuttle bug. Multeese is coming now.”

And there it was.

“Batteries charging,” Bargle said.

If Kim remembered correctly, they charged quickly in atmosphere.

“We should be able to jump as soon as we get out of the gravity well. A few minutes.”

“You will not escape.”

Kim stared, imagining the catapult throwing rocks at the multeese ship, wiping the stupid smile off the pristine white face.

And…

“What are you smiling at?” Brick asked. “Have you got a plan?”

She hadn’t realized she was smiling. And there wasn’t really anything to smile about. Kim nodded, shook her head. “Not so much a plan as an idea, but… It’s crazy. Suicidal.”

Brick nodded. “Life’s suicidal at the moment. And, anyway, just because you haven’t yet worked out how you’ll live through the plan doesn’t mean it’s suicidal. Suicide is a conscious choice, it isn’t a lack of options. There’s a big difference.”

“Really? And if you never work out a viable option for survival?”

The big man shrugged. “Then you die. It happens. And sometimes it’s the only way. Even an actual suicidal plan would be better than sitting around waiting to die.”

“You really think that?”

He nodded again. “You come up with a half reasonable plan, or even an idea, I’ll be at the front of the line to help.”

“But…” Kim took a deep breath. “But sending people to their deaths, Brick. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You did it before. At Sherindel, apparently. At Hulgorn.”

“Only one person died.” Just Sandy, and she was one too many.

Brick shrugged. “We were lucky. And if everyone on this ship dies but we manage to kill the multeese? Well, that will be lucky too.”

“I can’t…”

“Think of it this way. We’ll all be dead very soon, one way or the other. We can die running, or we can die fighting.”

Kim knew he was right. She knew there really wasn’t any choice. “All right.”

“So we’re going to do it? Whatever it is?”

Kim nodded. “I guess so.”

“And what’s the plan?”

“Stones, Brick.”

“Stones?”

“We’re going to throw stones.” Kim rose to her feet, ignoring all her pains. “Where’s Scree?”

Brick didn’t know, but Flint answered between bursts of gunfire from the weapons chair. Kim didn’t know what he was shooting at.

“In the security office.”

“Right.” Kim started to hobble out as fast as she could. She paused before she got to the lift and looked up at the pilot’s seat. “Bargle, set up for a jump of... Two hours. But don’t do anything else.”

“What heading?”

“Couldn’t care less.”

Flint stopped his shooting for a moment. “What are you up to?”

But Kim just smiled some more and left.

33: Instinct

Tuki left the bridge and went looking for Ruby. He had seen her leave with the other warriors but had no idea where she might have gone. He went down the lift to Level 3. Some of the others were there— Thorpe and Scree and Stone— but he could not see Ruby.

“You looking for Ruby, Tuki?” Bones asked.

“Yes.”

“Think she went upstairs. To your cabin. I think so, anyway. Could have gone to have a shower, I suppose. Don’t know though. You could check the showers.”

“Oh. Thank you. I will look in my cabin first.”

He used the stairs then wandered through the hallways to his cabin. He stood where he was for a long time, looking at the door, wondering if he should go in. He started to turn away, to go back to the bridge, when the door opened.

Ruby was standing there. She was holding a piece of metal pipe, thick and strong and as long as Tuki’s arm. “Oh. Hello, Tuki.”

“Hello, Ruby.”

“Were you coming in?”

“No. Yes.”

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yes.”

She stepped aside and motioned him in.

“What is happening? What are you doing here?”

“I came to get this.” She held up a pendent Tuki had given her. It had a red glass bead on the end that looked a bit like a ruby.

“Oh.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds.

“What is the pipe for?”

“It’s part of Kim’s plan.”

“Kim’s plan involves plumbing?”

“Apparently.”

“But she won’t tell you what it is?”

Ruby shook her head. “Scree knows, and he’ll tell us what we need to know. Trolls work better without planning. Think about something too much and all those thoughts just get in the way. Much better to do things by instinct.”

“And what if you don’t have the right instincts?”

“You worry about that when the time comes.”

Another silence that stretched on.

“Have I done something wrong, Tuki. I ain’t used to this, so I don’t know if I should’ve...”

Tuki shook his head. “You know more about these things than I do,” he said. He was starting to think he didn’t know very much at all. “It’s just...”

“Yes?”

“When you...”

“When I kill people?”

“Yes. It isn’t something I like to think about.”

Ruby shook her head and sat down on the bed. “It ain’t something I like. Not any more. I don’t know if I ever did.”

“But you look like you enjoy it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. Maybe... Well, maybe I do like it in a way. I like helping my friends and that’s the best way I can do it. I like being good at a job that I’ve got to do.”

“You are good at other things.”

Ruby laughed. “But nothing like that, Tuki. If I lived on Earth, maybe I could play some of their sports, but I’m not good at thinking or... Or anything like that.”

“You are not stupid, Ruby.”

“I didn’t say I was.” She sighed. “Tuki, this is who I am. If you can’t handle that, then maybe I should move my stuff out of your cabin.”

He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. And there was no way that could be the right thing to do. The time had come and his instincts failed him. He should say something...

“All right. I’ll get my stuff as—”

An alarm sounded, a harsh, screeching buzz that could not be ignored.

“Come on. We’ve got to go.”

“Where?”

“To the places where we’re supposed to be. Instinct, Tuki,” she said. “Is your instinct telling you to stand there like that?”

Tuki’s instincts were telling him to stop Ruby from leaving the room. They were saying they should both stay in there and wait for Scree and Kim to sort everything out. Except Scree and Kim would need all the help they could get.

He watched Ruby as she grabbed her metal bar and headed out the door. After a moment he followed, rushing to the lift and pressing the button for Level 1. From there he took the next lift to the bridge. Palsamon was there, but only just. The elf was half in the navigation chair and half out. One leg had already started to creep towards the door.

He looked up and jumped up from the chair. “Come on, lad, no time to waste.” He adjusted a couple of controls and then was gone, running towards the lift. Tuki took his place and strapped himself in.

“What’s going on?” Though he knew what was going on. The multeese ship was there. It was a hundred kilometers behind them but it looked as if it was hanging just outside the window.

Bargle was looking at his controls as if trying to find the button that would save them all. “What do we do now?”

“We wait for Kim,” Meledrin said. She was still calm, or at least looked it. “She told us to accelerate, and that is all.”

There was nobody in the weapons chair.

Tuki thought he was going to be sick. He wondered where Ruby was. He wondered if it was too late to go and talk to Kim and get her to change her mind. Tuki did not know what the plan was, but surely they could just run away instead.

He sighed.

He really didn’t believe that it would be possible to run away. And how far would they have to run?

“It is gaining on us,” Tuki said. “A hundred kilometers away.”

Kim returned to the bridge. “Are we ready?”

Meledrin nodded, but Kim probably didn’t care. Tuki supposed that it would not make any difference. Ready or not, here they come.

“Kim, are you going to tell us what is happening?” Meledrin asked.

“We’re going to throw rocks at this damn alien. Get it on the radio.” Kim climbed the stairs to stand beside Meledrin’s chair. “And let’s hope it’s as arrogant as it seems.”

“It should be able to hear us,” Meledrin said a moment later.

“Good.” Kim pressed the button. “Hello.”

“You run and you run but you get nowhere.” The white face appeared on the screen on the back wall of the bridge. “There will be no more running after this.”

“But running is what we do best,” Kim replied.

Tuki thought she looked very confident, more confident that she had for a long time, but he did not know how that was possible.

“And yet multeese catches you time and again.”

Kim shrugged. “Well, all we can do is keep trying. I mean. It isn’t as if we could beat you in a fight.”

“It is inconceivable.”

“Right. But like you said, it isn’t really much use running either, is it?”

Tuki thought of telling Kim how far the alien ship was— barely fifty kilometers— but at that range, it really didn’t make any difference.

“I mean, I bet you could fly that ship right up here beside us, if you wanted. You seem to be able to do whatever you want with it.”

“Of course. Multeese are in perfect control.”

“Show me then.”

“Multeese are going to kill you.”

Tuki was surprised it hadn’t already done so. Maybe it liked showing off.

“I know you’re going to kill us. But just show me how great your ship is first. Driving something that big with any precision must take a lot of skill.”

What was Kim doing? Did she really think the aliens would let them live simply because he was nice to them?

“We have been travelling the galaxy for a millennia killing the lesser races— you are the first to acknowledge us for what we truly are.”

“Come on then, fly that mountain right along beside us.”

The ship was pulling up alongside them. Tuki looked out the window and saw the shining bulk of it. It was just fifty meters away and there was almost twenty kilometers of it stretched out behind them. He swallowed.

“We can do whatever we wish. We are all powerful.”

“I know. And if we went to that other universe, the one where we go to travel, you could follow us, right? So we wouldn’t be able to get away. You’ve been there before.”

“You cannot escape.”

Tuki saw Kim took a deep breath and glance around the bridge. “So you are really going to kills us this time. I mean, all those other times you just got distracted and took off. You didn’t have the perseverance to finish us off. We ran away, and you were just too lazy to chase us.”

Tuki could not tell if the alien was annoyed. The expression on the white face did not change. He really didn’t know that it was a good idea to try to annoy it though. He looked away from the ship— still only the front end was visible, as if the alien had slowed to match their speed.

“It is not a matter of perseverance. Do you swat at every fly that buzzes around your head?”

“Admit it, you’re just lazy.”

“We can kill you any time. We merely wait to educate you, as you wished.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.” Kim said. “I reckon we’ll show you a thing or two instead.”

“Impossible.”

“How about this for a start,” Kim said. “We’ll show you how to go to another universe. Bet you’ll see something shiny and take off somewhere else instead of following.”

“We will kill you.”

“Yeah? We’ll see.” She signaled and, before her hand finished moving, Bargle hit the button to open the Ohoga Gate and start the timer. He spoke a warning into the pager.

“Do you think that will save you?” the alien asked. Two weapons fired, missiles zeroing in on the Hakahei. A warning alarm sounded. They were so close there was no way they could avoid being hit.

Stone, in the weapons chair, had the shields up in an instant. Why wasn’t he shooting? Maybe they could hit it. Maybe... Maybe they would be lucky.

The first projectile exploded against the shields. The second…

The lights went out as the ship passed through the gate into the other universe. The alarm fell silent.

Tuki breathed a sigh of relief though the silver alien had come with them. It seemed larger in the shifting, sickening colors of the other universe. “We will be dead in two hours,” he said to nobody in particular.

“Two hours,” Bargle agreed. “Two hours.”

Tuki wondered if it had really been worth it. All that just for a couple of hours of life. As the alien said, they could not run forever. They were as good as dead already.

Kim had slumped down onto the floor. There were tears running down her face.

“What is happening, Kim?” Tuki asked.

She looked up. “As usual, I got us into trouble, and now Scree has to save us all.”

Tuki shook his head. “It is your plan, Kim. If Scree saves us it will be because of you.” Tuki didn’t understand the plan, but that didn’t make any difference. As long as someone did.

34: Into the Mist

Scree strode along the passage with everyone closing in behind. He knew he was going to die one day but he’d always thought it would happen on the day he gave up. “I ain’t giving up today,” he said.

“Pardon?” Tim asked.

“Nothin’. We ready for this?” Not many people had officially been told the plan, but they would’ve worked it out by now.

“We’re ready,” Thorpe replied quietly. Scree looked back at the human. He had a shovel handle, sharpened at one end and held it like he knew what he was doing. He also had metal pipe, about ten centimeters across, strapped to his back. The other humans had backpacks that rattled and clanked when they walked. They wore looks of determination that matched the look on every other face. Scree smiled and continued walking.

If the aliens is as smart as they thinks they are they should be getting worried about now, he thought.

“You sure these explosives will work?”

Thorpe nodded. “Stuff burns slower in this universe than our own. Gunpowder burns so slowly that it doesn’t create an explosion at all, but this stuff burns much quicker than gunpowder. The explosions won’t be as large as normal but they’ll do the job.”

Scree grunted and gave a curt nod. He didn’t really want the details. He just wanted to know it would work.

At the airlock Scree swung the pack onto his back and picked up his sword. He’d never thought to use the weapon again but it felt good in his hand now. It had come a long way from Kiva, but not nearly as far as he’d come himself.

Twenty-two hakans and half a dozen hurgon entered the airlock behind him. Each had a club or bow or weapon of some kind and looked ready to use them.

“Get that door closed.”

Scree fitted the breather and mask over his face. Topper and Hoodek worked at the inner door, winding the handles to make it close. As soon as they were done, Talus and Dido started getting the outer door open. Scree felt the gentle pull of exiting air, but ignored it. He watched the doors slowly opening. It was a minute before they were wide enough.

“Hold this for me.” He handed his sword to Chip and tightened the straps on his pack.

The alien ship was so close. It looked like he could almost reach out and touch it. He wished he could. He examined the outer surface of the ship. There were lumps and equipment and all sorts of handholds. And there, near what looked like an antenna...

“Low south,” Scree said, taking a deep breath. There were lines that might be the outline of a separate panel. Or it could have been anything.

“Got it.” Bone’s voice was muffled by the mask but audible.

“Let’s do this.” Scree said. We’re going faster than it looks, he added to himself. With another deep breath he ran and dived into the sickening, swirling colors.

As soon as he left the protection of the ship, Scree could feel the wind of their passage buffeting him. He’d aimed himself towards the very front of the alien craft, but wasn’t sure if it had been enough. The journey seemed to take forever. His target didn’t seem to be getting any bigger, but seeing it was all he could see— it filled his vision completely— he was willing to admit that it might be hard to judge. He wanted to look back at the Hakahei to see how close it was— how far it was— but didn’t want to upset his momentum or aim.

Away from the lanterns on the Hakahei it was still possible to see, though only just. The mist clung to his face, ran down his arms and leapt off his fingers into the swirling nothingness. And Scree continued forward, seemingly forever.

When he hit the alien ship he almost knocked himself out. He clung to the cold metal as the mist tried to rip him free.

He would’ve liked to hang there all day, one hand on a silvered, shadowed lump, one foot in a circular hole, but he knew he had a time limit.

He flexed his shoulders, then turned to look back at the Hakahei. He seemed to be about fifty yards south of where he needed to be, and too high. He could see Thorpe pointing and started to move.

It took five minutes to get to the spot he’d been aiming for. He wasn’t sure it was a door, but there seemed to be some type of join and that was enough.

He took one of the explosive packages out of his pack and stuck it to the side of the ship and then one of the chemical fuses was stuck in the side of that. He scampered away as quickly as he could and waited for it to go boom. With a strange piece of equipment protecting him he was hardly even aware of the bomb going off, but the result was certainly visible.

There was a hole in the side of the ship large enough to drive a Lander though. He turned towards the Hakahei to call them across but Bones was already on his way, sailing silently across the gap. A piece of grappling cable trailed behind him. He must have learned from Scree for he hit the side of the ship not three yards from the hole.

<Ready?> Scree asked as soon it was obvious he wasn’t going to bounce off into the nothing.

<Yep.>

They swung around and went through the hole together. There was nobody waiting for them. Wires and cables and pipes were all around, filling the cramped space. While Bones unclipped the cable from his belt and attached it to a pipe, Scree flailed around, pulling on and breaking everything he could get his hands on.

<Go.> Scree said in his mind and he knew his companions were coming across behind with a small piece of wire hooked over the cable to make sure they flew true. Chip flew in through the hole a minute later, trailing mist behind him. He rolled and came to his feet amongst the mess. Scree took his sword.

“Let’s see if we can find a proper passage.”

They went to the inner wall and Chip used his makeshift club as a ram, pounding on the wall with the end.

The space behind them was starting to fill by the time they broke through. The thumping revealed a small join and Scree was able to push near that to fold back a large section of wall. He stepped through into... a passage.

Scree looked one direction then the next. The passage, silver and circular, seemed to go on forever in both directions though he wasn’t really sure how far he could see.

“Talus. Peak,” Scree called.

The two trolls climbed into the passage and looked as well. Then they started running toward the front of the ship. It was two minutes before Scree heard from them.

<Dead end. > Scree heard in his head. <Might be a hatch.>

He looked in the direction they’d gone. If it was a dead end, did they really want to go that way?

Thorpe stepped through the hole and, raising one of the lanterns above his head, walked to the base of the passage. His eyes were cold and hard behind his mask. “What’s going on?”

“Dead end that way. Maybe a hatch, apparently.”

Thorpe shrugged. “Who says the other way will be better. And the front is that way.”

“Right. We ready?”

He led the way quickly down the passage. After about two hundred meters it started to curve to the left, towards the top/bottom axis of the ship. Another five hundred meters after that and they came to the two trolls. They were sitting on the floor near a metal grille that filled the entire passage.

“Dead end,” Talus repeated. But he pointed at a circular panel in the ceiling.

“Yeah. Topper?”

The dwarf had a look, holding his lantern up to see it better. “Shouldn’t be too hard.” He pulled a tool from a pouch on his belt and two trolls boosted him up so he could work.

Scree was aware of every minute ticking by— it seemed to take forever to get through. Finally, Topper pushed the circle and it hinged upwards. He kept pushing and it fell back with a clatter loud enough to wake the dead. Scree wasn’t going to wait to see what happened though. He strode up to the hole. Before he could jump up and grab the edge, Shardy grabbed his arm.

“You ain’t going first.” She pulled him back and went herself, jumping up and puling herself up through the hole. <All clear,> she said a moment later. <And we got air in here too.>

Scree didn’t know how she’d checked.

He went through the hole and took off his mask as he looked around. “Think we should blow this up, Topper?”

He waited while the dwarf clambered through the hole.

“That’s the biggest engine I’ve ever seen.”

Scree laughed. “A couple of weeks ago you were living in a cave.”

“Yeah, but still...”

They were in a spaceship that was twenty kilometers long so it was obvious the thing would have a large engine, but Scree was still amazed. It went up for a couple of hundred meters. He couldn’t see the other end through the mess of machinery.

“Pick a spot,” Scree said. He watched as the rest of the pack came through the hatch and spread out. The door banged shut behind the last of them and Hoodek turned a wheel to seal it.

“That bit looks important.”

The glowing box Topper pointed to was about twenty meters to a side with cables and pipes and clear glass tubes coming and going. Scree shrugged and started towards it, weaving his way through lesser things to get there. Topper went with him while some of the others explored the room.

Scree knelt and let Topper take some explosive and a length of fuse from his pack. There was whole coil of the fuse— it was probably supposed to last them years. The dwarf grabbed a big wad of the former and, taking it out of its protective wrapping, molded it around where one of the glass tubes joined the box.

“Two minutes for every centimeter of starter, right?” Topper asked, before shoving the tube into the explosive. Then he pulled the string that started the process. “We’ve got about an hour.”

“Come on then,” Scree said. <Where to?>

<Northwest corner.>

<Right.> Scree waved for those who had waited with him to follow.

The door Chasm had found led out the western wall.

“Fifty yards of passage, and it’s a normal old square passage, not like the last one,” she said. “Branch leading to the right at the halfway point.”

Scree nodded, but she wasn’t finished.

“Around the corner is aliens. Six of ‘em.”

“Aliens? Or them robots?”

She shrugged. “Robots, I suppose.”

35: A Long Way

Scree marched down the hall and stuck his head around the corner. Six of the three-legged robots were in the middle of the passage. “Hello,” Scree said. None of them moved. He went out into the hall. They still didn’t move, so he went forward and stabbed the closest one in the eye. He twisted his sword as he pulled it out. He did the same to the others then went back to the intersection.

“What’s at the far end of the passage?” Topper asked.

“Door like this one,” Chasm said.

“What if they have backup for everything as well, like on our ship?” Hoodek said.

“What?”

“What if the door at the other end of the passage leads to another engine like the last one?”

Scree nodded. “Right. Take some more explosive. Stone, you and your guys go with him.”

“How about you just give me the pack?” Topper said.

“What?”

“You might have to fight. I can carry the stupid pack as well as you.”

“The robots don’t work in this place.”

“What about the multeese?”

“Right.” Though he wasn’t sure he could fight gas anyway. He shrugged out of the pack and gave it to the dwarf. “Makar and Hoodek, you two stick with Topper no matter what. Just in case. The rest of you,” he hefted his sword, “let’s scout ahead a bit.”

They ran down the passage, around a corner, then stopped. There were stairs. The window on the front of the ship had been near the top, so Scree started to climb. “Chasm, wait here for the others.”

At the next floor, he stopped. “We’ll wait here.” No use splitting the group up too much. Probably stupid coming as far ahead as he had.

A couple of minutes later, the others climbed the stairs.

“Topper?”

“Here.”

“Come on then. We’re running out of time.”

“Where are we going?” Topper asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Where are we going?”

“To the front of the ship.”

Suldon cleared his throat. “Scree, Brother Koli would like to point out that were are quite some distance from the front of the ship.”

“Approximately five kilometers,” Palsamon agreed.

“Yeah, but...” Where else were they supposed to go?

“And who says the front is where we really want to be?”

“Well...” Scree looked around but all he could see was empty, white passage. He didn’t want to be talked out of killing the multeese by hand.

Topper joined in. “We just want to blow up as much of this ship as possible and hopefully stop it from going back to the other universe, right?”

“Right?”

“How do we know the best bits to blow up aren’t around here somewhere? Or the other way?”

“Well...”

“Who says we didn’t just attach some explosives to their coffee machine?” Topper asked.

“You’re the one who wanted to do it.”

“I know, but my point is, we have no idea what’s important and the ship is so big we could spend a week wandering around in here and walk right past the little red self-destruct button.”

“The what?”

“It was in a book I read.”

“So tell me the point again.”

“We have to set the explosives somewhere near here and hope that we make a big enough explosion to do something.” He lifted the pack higher on his back. “And then we have to get back to the cable and get the hell out of here.”

Scree tried to think. Topper was right, of course, but that didn’t help a whole lot because he was also wrong. They couldn’t just stick the explosives to the wall here and hope the passage was important. This might be the only chance they got to finish the job properly. He’d have thought a dwarf would understand that.

“Who’s up for some running?”

“What? Why?”

“We can’t be sure of anything around here. There might be ten of those machines that we just set to blow. But at the front of this ship, there’s a big window, so that’s where the important people sit. That’s where the whole thing is run from. That’s the only way we can be sure.”

“We’ve got about an hour, Scree,” Thorpe said. “If those five kilometers Palsamon mentioned were in a straight line you might have a shot, it could be closer to ten. Then we have to get out of here.”

“We jumped across, we can jump back.” Scree knew it wasn’t that simple. The alien ship was a hard target to miss but their own ship was tiny in comparison.

“I’m up for it,” Brick said. Scree could see in the human’s eyes that he knew the odds. Amy and Tim volunteered as well.

Scree could see the moment that Thorpe was going to point out the flaw of the plan and held up a stalling hand. “Don’t. We gotta kill these bastards, plain and simple. We got to make sure.”

Thorpe shook his head and sighed. “I’m coming.”

All the trolls wanted to come as well, but Scree told Stone that their troop was staying with Topper. The dwarf had a better chance of succeeding and had to be given all the help possible.

So Scree took a third of the remaining explosives and passed them out amongst the humans and Yellow troop. Then he handed around the long coils of chemical fuse.

“We will be coming as well,” Palsamon said. Suldon and Bethalin nodded their agreement.

“And me,” Dido said.

“There’s ain’t no reason.”

“I am coming.”

Scree looked at Amy, Chasm and Shardy and new there really wasn’t any reason Dido shouldn’t be allowed to come. He gave a curt nod, knowing he would regret it.

“Me too,” Mintar said, glancing at Dido.

When they were ready to go Scree gripped Stone’s arm.

“Why you always pick me for the babysitting?” Stone asked, half-serious. “You want me sitting back on the ship watching while you have all the fun?”

“Don’t care about you, Stone,” Scree replied with a smile. “It’s Ruby I’m worried about.”

“Ruby?”

“Well, Ruby and Tuki.”

Stone shook his head and grunted.

“You might miss out on the fun today, Stone, but Kim’s bound to find some more for you tomorrow.” Scree gave a nod. “See you back there, anyway.”

“Course. Kill some of them bastards for me.”

“I’ll let some get past, just so you can do it yourself.” Scree turned to his smaller group when Stone started to head back the way they’d come. “We ready?” nobody said otherwise.

* * *

Scree ran quickly, never pausing for thought. There wasn’t any point— he didn’t know exactly where he was, where he was going, or how to get there. He’d climb towards the front of the ship and worry about anything else when the time came. If he wasn’t going to make it all the way to the bridge, he’d find something else to blow up. The others followed him with only Bones’ conversation to break the silence.

The first living, breathing creature he saw was three meters tall and thinner than an elf. It turned and ran though, not very convincingly. It ran like a four year old girl, all knees and elbows and wobbling head. It rushed around a corner and Scree followed slowly. And almost lost his head.

He ducked as a huge club whistled towards him. Rolled and slashed at a knee before realizing there was no knee. The creature looked like a two-meter high solid block of stone with four arms and one heavy-lidded eye on the front face.

Scree came to his feet and examined the edge of his sword.

“What the hell is that?” Flint asked.

Scree looked at him. “Its name is Gimbald,” he said.

“What?”

“Well hows am I supposed to know?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The thing, whatever it was, was covered in a clear goo that was slowly dripping onto the floor.

“Can’t be too quick can it?” Bones said. “Thing like that? Have to be pretty slow, I reckon.”

“Why? Because it looks like a rock and rocks don’t move quick?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Nearly took my head off,” Scree said. “Seemed plenty quick enough to me.”

“Well, we can’t just stand here,” Bones said. And he charged forward. Flint, Chip and Talus went as well.

Scree swore but hung back for a second. When he thought the rock was distracted he darted around the side. And found himself looking at another cold, slow-blinking eye.

“Cat piss on you.” He attacked, feinting one direction, knocking aside a blow that nearly broke his arm and stabbed at the eye. Some type of orange liquid gushed out onto the floor, making footing treacherous, but that was about it. Scree swore again as he gave himself some room.

The rock rose slightly, shuffled backwards, then sank back to the floor.

Scree looked up in time to see Peak leap up onto the top of the creature. He had a sledgehammer he’d taken from the garden on the Hakahei and put it to use. For a whole minute he pounded on the thing’s flat head, sending out sparks and chips of stone. Scree and his companions tried to keep the arms busy.

Finally, with one final, mighty blow, Peak split the stone block in two, right down the middle. He bellowed triumphantly, then leapt down to the floor. The effect was lost when he slipped in the goo but he righted himself quickly and smiled.

“A hammer’s the right weapon for this quarry,” he said. He looked around. “You know, a quarry where them get rocks.”

“That’s terrible,” Flint said. “Were you up there pounding on that thing trying to think of that line?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, you should’ve stayed up there a bit longer.”

“You’re just jealous.”

Flint shook his head. “Come on.”

But they didn’t get far. At the next corner, there was a dragon. It writhed in the air, long tail flicking. And like the stone creature, it was covered in goo.

36: Stupid Things

Kim couldn’t stand the waiting, though Scree had led the boarding party across barely ten minutes earlier. She took a deep breath and looked around. Everyone had gathered by the long, curved window on Level 3 and stood watching the multeese ship as if expecting it to explode, or disappear, or do something totally unexpected at any moment. Grandmother Donni was surrounded by the last of her guards.

“Will the contracts really help the P’targa?” Kim asked in the ini rituals.

Donni gave a hurgon nod. “They would have helped immensely, but Donni is not sure if they are required any longer.”

“They aren’t? Why is that?”

“The T’loop were killing the P’targa for the benefit of all the other families but there was no benefit for the P’targa. If there had been a contract...”

Kim couldn’t believe what the Grandmother was saying. “The P’targa would have signed a contract to sacrifice P’targa to the multeese if the price was right?”

“There is always a bargaining point, tough the P’targa price would have been high in this case. But P’targa were not given a choice. So, the T’loop will help finish the war with the hakans or the P’targa will inform the councils what was happening and the T’loop will no longer exist. The P’targa will become a great family instead.”

Kim cleared her throat, though the conversation was in sign language. “What if all the great families already know about the T’loop deal with the multeese? What if they were party to it?”

Apparently Donni hadn’t considered that possibility. “Then we will inform the minor families and the minor families will rise up and the hurgon will be no more. The hurgon will become something else, for the great shall fall and no hurgon will desire to be great at all. Donni says that the P’targa do not want to be ‘great’ if that is greatness.”

“In that case, Kim believes Donni should avoid threatening the T’loop in private.”

“Why?”

“Because T’loop will be given warning and will be able to formulate plans and call on allies. The P’targa should go directly to the councils.”

“Kim might be correct.”

“Will the minor families win?”

“Without doubt, because all minor families will join together for the first time. The Great Families will relent, or there will be a change of wars— a minor rebellion like there has never been. It will be a war the great families cannot win.”

Kim nodded. Without doubt? Sounded easy. If it came to war, the hakans could probably help. A few trolls and dwarves would make a lot of difference. Probably just some different points of view were all that was needed. Though, for all of Donni’s plans to be put into action, Kim’s plan had to work first. And what chance was there of that? She looked back at the multeese ship, a mountain flying beside them— a heavily armed mountain— and wondered what she could have done differently. What other options had she had?

Half an hour later Kim was still sitting, staring across at the other ship but hardly taking any notice, when she saw a subtle shift in the crowd. They leaned forward slightly. They hushed. Kim sat up straighter, hurting her ribs in the process, and tried to see what they were looking at.

There was a... something... floating between the two ships. She followed the white thing as it tumbled and twisted. “Is that one of the aliens?” she asked.

Meledrin shrugged. “A multeese? I could not say.”

It probably wasn’t. It didn’t look like it was made out of gas. It was like a two-legged snake with a dozen tiny arms. It seemed to be dead.

Kim heard others gasp, but she remained silent herself. A troll had tumbled out into the open as well. Whoever it was left a trail of blood in the swirling mist and showed no signs of life.

Kim stared at the rent torn in the other ship’s hull but there was no other sign of action until another body came through a few minutes later. It was another alien. This one was huge, with four legs, two massive arms and a long, barbed tail. It wasn’t quite dead. It thrashed feebly, as if it might find something to grip. Kim almost felt sorry for it— almost. But then it did find something to grab and the audience gasped again. It grabbed onto the cable linking the ships. Kim thought it would use it to climb back to the vessel, but apparently it knew what the outcome of that would be. Instead, it gripped the cable with its powerful hands and hung there as if catching its breath. Then it jack-knifed around and used the barb on its tail to cut at the cable. It chopped and it sawed.

Kim knew how strong the cable was but she had no doubt that the creature would succeed. How could it not? How could it not?

Then the cable parted, and the released tension flung the alien out into the nothing of the universe. It thrashed and kicked as it went, but that hardly made Kim feel better at all.

The shoulders of the audience visibly slumped. Ari started to cry.

“They jumped across there,” Kim said, “they can jump back, right?”

Keeble stared at the trailing end of the cable. “You may have noticed the difference in the size of the targets,” he said quietly. “We are travelling at just under 10 kilometers a second...”

“Scree can make it.” But even Kim had her doubts.

There was movement in the hole on the side of the enemy ship. Kim stood to get a closer look. She could see a troll there, hanging out the side, examining the remains of the cable.

“Why didn’t they leave someone on here so we could communicate with them?”

Ping shrugged. “There was no point. If they do not succeed then we will all be dead the moment the alien gets power back. Everyone was needed.” She touched at the window. “Topper is there as well. And Hoodek and Mintar. And some of the elves.”

“Yes, but...”

“Ruby is over there,” Tuki said softly, hands pressed against the glass as well. “I was silly. I did not understand. I...”

Kim shook her head. “Tuki, I’m sorry.” She had sent them out to die. All of them. It was a good plan— the only one that had any hope of succeeding, but it was still a suicide mission…

Kim saw the muscles in the lad’s arm bunching under his EVA suit. He surged away from the wall and headed for... the airlock.

“No, Tuki. Wait?”

He did stop. He turned back, his face hard like Kim had never seen before. “At Ben Dongoske’s funeral, I said that the people on the ship were my friends and that I would risk my life for them. I would do that. But nobody ever told me I would ever have to risk something worth much more.”

Kim didn’t know what to say. Tuki had changed and Ruby had a lot to do with that. She could not imagine how hard it must be for him.

Tuki turned and started to walk towards the airlock.

“What do you intend to do, Tuki?” Keeble asked. “You open that door and you will release a lot of our air. And then what? There is only one cable in there, and it’s useless to you.”

Kim wanted to say something as well. That Ruby had died trying to save her friends. That she wouldn’t want him to do anything stupid. But the only things left to any of them now were the stupid things. Before she had a chance to say anything, before she could bring forth some platitude she would immediately regret, Tuki turned and ran towards the center of the ship. Kim went to follow, though she didn’t know what she’d say, but he was already disappearing through the door into the stairwell.

Still, she considered following him, but the minutes ticked by and she stayed where she was, watching the occasional flashes of movement in the hole in the side of the alien ship. The trolls wouldn’t give up. If there was a slim chance of success, they would jump out into the nothing, only to float around until they ran out of air.

* * *

As Scree sighed and readied himself he heard the soft cold voice of the dragon whispering in his mind. “I have slept for millennia. Now I feed.”

“You ain’t the multeese?” Scree asked.

There was a pause. “I am Vazakainar. First Wyrm of Hugafalar.”

“Whatever. If you don’t want to die, you’d better get out of my way.”

The wyrm darted forward, fast as lightning, and it was all Scree could do to get his sword up. The creature stopped instantly, a hair’s breadth from the blade.

“You have iron,” it said, slowly backing up.

“Yeah.”

“Here’s some more,” Suldon said from behind Scree.

Three arrows scratched through the air. One sank into the wyrm’s eye. The others entered its mouth and disappeared. A second later, so did the wyrm itself. All that was left behind was a mist of dust that fell to the floor.

Scree turned to look at the elves. “Iron arrow heads?”

“Yes,” Bethalin said.

“Wish we could gets them back.”

“We have dozens, Scree,” Palsamon told him. “Now that we know they work, we will be able to prevail against many more of these wyrms yet.”

Thorpe joined them. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Why nots?”

“Have a look at this.”

Scree followed the soldier through one of the doors that led off the passageway. Beyond was a small room and three glass tanks. And in each tank was a creature. These matched neither the stone thing nor the wyrm. They were green, with eyes on stalks and webbed feet. There were a couple of differences between each one, but they were obviously of the same species.

“So?”

“Now look at this.”

Thorpe led the way back out into the hall and then into the next room .

This time there were two cases with another two creatures that were obviously related.

“Again, so?”

“One more.”

In the third room, the case was horizontal, rather than vertical. It was long and thin. It was broken. It was empty. The floor was covered in the clear goo that had covered the wyrm and there was some still in the bottom of the case.

Scree looked. “So, the wyrm was in this case?”

“That’s my guess.”

“And that first guy we saw, that silly tall guy, broke the case to let it out?”

Thorpe nodded.

Scree tried to think. It wasn’t working. “So, the multeese...”

Thorpe sighed. “I’m not sure. It’s obvious these cases aren’t made to be opened, otherwise they wouldn’t need to be broken. So maybe this is like a collection, like a zoo. The multeese goes around collecting specimens to put in the display cases. But instead of killing them it keeps them alive because it’s a sick bastard.”

“So how many specimens are there?” Flint asked. He was pulling on his moustache, like a dwarf working at a problem.

Thorpe shrugged. “The multeese has been around for at least fifty thousand years, remember. Probably a lot longer. There could be thousands of these things.”

“And that guy is just going to release every one until it finds one that can kill us?”

“Not every one, obviously. Those others are still in the cases after all. But that first alien must be a servant of the multeese. Or something. I don’t know.”

“So?”

“So, if you knew who was who in all these cases, would you stop to release Tuki, or would you head straight for the trolls?”

“So we gots to catch it.” It wasn’t a question.

Thorpe nodded.

Flint grunted. “But we’ll have to fight our way through a heap of aliens to get to it.” That wasn’t a question either.

There was a commotion out in the hall. Grunts. The clash of weapons.

Scree shrugged. “What are we waiting for then?” He rushed out into the hall to help.

Outside were two dog-like creatures that walked on two legs. Well, they normally did. One was already dead. The second was about to be overwhelmed. Amy cracked its skull with her hoe and before the body had hit the ground Scree was running.

“We’ve got to catch that tall skinny alien. Before it lets out too many of these damn things.”

He heard the others following.

Scree turned down another passage and kept running. He found another flight of stairs and started to climb.

“Take it steady, Scree,” Thorpe told him. “We don’t want to be too buggered to do anything the next time we run into trouble.”

Scree grunted but slowed slightly. At the top of the stairs he ran straight across the hall and up the next flight. One full step on each tread. Sweat was running into his eyes.

The stairs ended but the passage kept going, long and straight and wide. Scree kept going too. A hundred meters on, there was a branching passage to the right, and he was forced to slow.

Long, tall shadows were stretching out from the side passage. Judging by what had come before they shouldn’t have been there.

Scree cocked his head to listen but couldn’t hear anything. He looked around. Thorpe nodded. So did a couple of others. So Scree charged around the corner. And stopped.

There were half a dozen things that looked like... Scree didn’t know what they looked like. They were soft, liquid masses and seemed to be able to form themselves into any shape they wanted. Scree rushed forward, hoping someone would go with him. His target bent away from his first strike. But it wasn’t quick enough the second time. And arm fell to the floor with a splash. Scree watched as the limb ran along the floor to rejoin the main body.

“Stinking cats. We got problems.”

37: Aliens

Scree went forward again, though he didn’t know if there was any point. Mintar, Chasm, Bones and two hurgon went with him. The dwarf and hurgon attacked low, the others went high. The first creature broke apart completely this time and splashed all over the floor.

They went for the next, Chasm at the front. Her mattock passed harmlessly through empty air as the thing twisted away, but she punched before the shape reformed. Her fist sank into the water and the trollop screamed. She shook her hand, trying to pull it free, but she was sucked further in, fighting all the way. She screamed until her face was completely submerged. Then her whole body was pulled inside the water. For a second more she continued to struggle, then she was gone. Dissolved away to nothing.

Scree swore as he started to back away. His sword was up, ready, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to do anything with it.

“Clear the way,” Thorpe shouted, his voice hoarse. He had the metal pipe down from his back and was wedging the closed end into the corner where the floor met the wall. Tim shoved some explosives down the other end and Amy followed that with bits of scrap metal from Brick’s pack. “Clear,” Thorpe shouted again as he broke off a tiny bit of chemical fuse.

Scree and the others got out of the way and a second later, Thorpe poured the chemical directly into a hole drilled near the base of the pipe.

The explosion made Scree’s ears ring. He couldn’t hear anything else. He looked around and saw the water creatures spread all over the floor, as if someone had dropped a tank out of the sky. But even as he watched, they were quickly reforming.

“Can we run?” asked Dido. It looked like she was ready to give it a try.

Scree doubted it.

All the little puddles started to join. There weren’t going to be six creatures, there was going to be one huge one. Scree swallowed and started to back away.

Something stepped into the hall beyond the creature. A tree, leaves still dripping goo onto the floor. It bellowed, almost as loud as Thorpe’s makeshift cannon, and charged forward, swinging mighty branch arms. The water creature shattered again and the tree dipped its root toes into each of the puddles.

Scree didn’t want to hang around to see what was going to happen next. He turned and ran, continuing on the way he’d been going.

There was a voice in his head. <How’s it going, Scree?>

<Stone. We got problems.>

<Us too. You expected otherwise?>

<I thought it’d be fun.>

They passed another knot of frozen, three legged robots.

“Scree, slow down. We could run into anything.”

Scree gave a nod and slowed to a walk. Behind him, Flint, Bones and Shardy were taking the backpacks to give the humans a break.

<You going to make it?> Stone asked.

<Should do, I think. We must be close. How about you?>

<We’re almost there. But weird stinking things keep attacking us. We lost Chip and Makar.>

<Damn.> If they’d missed some of the aliens there could be any number of deadly things wandering around the ship.

<Yeah. Talus hurt pretty bad too.>

<Just get everyone home.> Scree slowed as he approached another intersection. He thought he could hear something and stopped completely. <And Stone. Not sure if you wants to tell Kim, but looks like the multeese got a zoo on this ships. That’s what Thorpe says anyway. Those things attacking you are somes of the dangerous specimens, but there’s heaps of others still locked up.>

<Reckon Kim’ll want to know something like that.>

<Maybe, but could be dangerous. You decide.>

<Will do. See you on the other side, Scree.>

<Yeah, see you there. Been nice knowing you.>

Scree readied his sword.

Shardy stepped up beside him, adjusting her pack and shifting her grip on her metal bar. “We killing things other trolls ain’t even dreamed about, Scree,” she said softly.

Scree gave a snort of laughter.

Tim McCree and Brick came up to the front line as well. The others got ready behind them.

“These things might be the last of their kind, Shardy,” Tim said with a crooked smile. “We might be wiping out entire species.”

They all laughed and charged around the corner.

An arrow the length of a pike took Shardy in the throat and knocked her a meter backwards. After a moment of shocked silence Beth, Suldon and Palsamon returned fire.

Their enemy was a huge shaggy beast with leather armor and boots like canoes. It hunched in the passageway like an unhappy wall.

The elves had fired three volleys and it hadn’t even thought of reloading. Keeping to the side of the passage, Scree moved quickly forward. The creature swatted at him with a club the size of a small tree. The weapon knocked a hole in the wall and smashed through a glass case beyond. It reefed the club free and swung again. Scree ducked and there was a hole on the other side of the passage. Before the goo had splashed out onto the floor, before the alien could pull the tree trunk free again, Brick and Tim ran the creature through. It collapsed with a gurgle of breath and a sad look on its face.

Thorpe bent over Shardy but Scree didn’t wait for the confirmation of what was obvious. He kicked the alien’s sad face and started to walk.

“Ah, Scree?” Dido said.

He turned around. “What?”

The dwife was pointing through the hole in the first wall. There was creature lying on the floor. It looked like a turtle with a bright shell and long, pointed ears. It squirmed as they watched, coughing and shuddering.

“Burning cats.” Scree turned to look at the other wall. The tree trunk club was still there, half in the room beyond, half out. And on the floor was... “What the hell?”

Dido went to look too.

There were what looked like a dozen or more arms, none of them attached to anything, with hands on both ends. There were also four donuts of two different sizes, and six balls about the size of one of Thorpe’s cricket balls.

The arms started to move, and Scree raised his sword. Dido scurried back out of the way. Scree readied himself, turning to examine the turtle for a moment, wondering which creature would attack first. He had just come to the conclusion that he would attack first when...

“Wait, Scree.” Thorpe held his arm. “The servant didn’t release these ones. Let’s just leave them and go.”

Scree gave a small nod but didn’t like the idea of leaving anything at his back. “How we going for time?”

Thorpe checked his watch— it was a mechanical thing from earth. “We’ve got about three quarters of an hour.”

“All right.” Scree nodded, turned and walked away. He glanced at Shardy once, then started to run.

* * *

Kim looked back out the window and saw Tuki, sailing across the empty space with a cable trailing behind.

“The other airlock,” Dosa said. “On Level 6.”

It hadn’t looked quite the same as when Scree did it— the lad wobbled and twisted and squirmed— but it was a sight to see nonetheless.

On the other ship, someone had spotted Tuki, and apparently they could see where he was going to end up. There was a troll scrambling along the side of the ship, heading aft, trying to meet up with him. It was Scree, it had to be. Kim’s heart was racing but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to watch. She closed one eye, as if that would make a difference.

Tuki had only worked in zero gravity one other time, inside the kil’ini. That experiment hadn’t been very successful. And like last time, he was going too fast. It was obvious to everyone, possibly even Tuki. The troll on the intercept mission was flying along now, letting go completely and letting the ship, at almost 10 kilometers per second, slowly overtake him. It was going to be close.

Tuki hit the ship and bounced. Kim winced as he started to float back the other way. He flailed his arms trying to grab something, anything.

And he grabbed the troll’s hand. The two of them jerked to a halt and swung around onto the side of the ship with a thump that Kim almost thought she could hear.

“Time,” Kim asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

It would be close. By the time the two of them got back to the hole... But they weren’t going back to the hole. Kim saw the troll unclip the cable from Tuki’s belt and attach it to the side of the ship.

“Too hard to move with that cable,” Keeble said. He wound the gears on his hand. In and out. In and out. It annoyed the shit out of Kim and she turned back to look out the window.

People were exiting the hole, moving quickly along the side of the ship. Two trolls went first, then dwarves and an elf, then another two trolls. That was all.

“Where are the rest?” Kim said. “Where the hell are the rest?”

Tuki was already coming back across the cable, pulling himself along hand over hand. By the time the first troll started along the lad was halfway back. He was caught not long after. The troll used the same technique, but flew solo a lot of the time, merely using the cable to stay heading in the right direction.

“The elf is slowing them down,” Keeble said.

Kim looked at the line moving along the side of the ship. It was true. The dwarves had grown up in the mountains and the trolls could do anything physical. The elf, it looked like a female, was the weak link when it came to climbing. She picked her way along carefully.

Scree must be at the back of the line, Kim thought. He won’t leave them behind. She had thought the opposite a minute ago, but that didn’t matter. She held her breath and watched.

Tuki and the troll were out of sight around the curve of the ship. The next two started across.

“Time?”

“Ten minutes.”

The next bit wasn’t so easy for the dwarves. They were hardly more confident than Tuki had been, pulling themselves along slowly. Finally, the elf reached the cable and immediately started to pull herself out into the nothing.

Kim opened her mouth to ask—

“Four minutes,” Ping said.

“Shit.”

The last troll in line unclipped the cable from the side of the ship before starting off.

“What’s he doing?”

Those already on the Hakahei started to pull the cable, reeling in the stragglers like hooked fish.

“Two minutes.”

The troll hanging onto the end of the cable was in the middle of nowhere. It seemed to be taking forever. He sliced through the mist as the others continued to pull him in.

“The gate’s open,” Tasko shouted.

38: Honor

Kim turned to look towards the front of the ship. The shifting glow of the gate was visible. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

The last troll moved out of sight around the curve of the ship.

“We should be on the bridge,” Kim said, but they couldn’t do anything anyway and the only enemy who could really hurt them was out there. They stood and watched.

Explosions erupted. In four places, all close to the hole in the side by the alien ship’s standards. Blooms of fire flared momentarily. Huge holes appeared. Chunks of hull flew across the gap and clattered horribly against the Hakahei.

The ship disappeared. The universe disappeared.

Here and there, lights flickered on.

Kim took a deep breath. Empty space, real space, filled the window.

“Three minutes until all systems are back online,” Keeble said. “Come on Inaki.” He beckoned to the moai and the two of them hurried up to the bridge.

Kim wanted to go the other direction. She wanted to make sure everyone was all right. She wanted to find out who wasn’t. Instead, she wheeled herself to the stair-hatch and stayed there. She took a deep breath and hurt her ribs.

Stone was the first person through the door. He looked exhausted. He was cut and bruised.

“Stone,” Kim said. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re comin’.”

“And... everyone else? Scree? And Thorpe and...”

Stone shrugged, then stepped out of the way as someone else came through the door behind him. Topper nudged his way past and threw himself down onto the floor.

“We can’t just leave them back there. The whole ship didn’t blow up. Just little bits. They might still be alive.”

Kim forgot her knee and her foot and her ribs. She pushed herself upright and hobbled to the bridge as fast as she could. “Keeble, we’ve got to go back.”

“Why?”

“Because we have to. They might be alive.”

Keeble looked at his controls. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have enough power. It’ll be two hours at this speed. Half an hour once we get going.”

“So...”

“And when we do have enough power, we have to locate the ship in the other universe, which will be next to impossible.” He glanced at Inaki, as if wondering if it could actually be done. “Then, if the ship’s still moving, we have to match speed and—”

Kim shouted. “I don’t care. Work something out.”

But surviving all the other million-to-one chances couldn’t help them with this one.

* * *

Scree was exhausted.

They crushed a thousand bugs under their boots, cracking the shells with a little pop and sending out sprays of black juice. Suldon got bitten and his ankle doubled in size in a matter of minutes. He didn’t complain and they kept walking.

Two hurgon were sprayed with acid when a snake lost its head. They died, screaming in agony. Another hurgon was torn in half by a shaggy, four armed creature that talked almost as much as Bones in a strange, singing language.

They used Thorpe’s cannon to blast their way through a plant that stumped along in a pot like a one legged monkey. Leaves drifted around as if autumn had come to the hallway.

Bethalin died when a huge, spiked creature rolled over the top of her. The elf didn’t make a sound.

They sliced open a giant purple frog and left its stinking corpse in the hall as its blood bubbled and popped.

Thorpe killed Peak with the cannon when bats swarmed all over the troll. When the creatures fell away he was half eaten, face twisted in a rictus of pain. Scree plunged forward with Talus, Mintar and Bones to hack and beat the last bats out of the air with grim, cold determination.

When they were done, Scree glanced at Peak’s body. “Time,” he asked.

“Half an hour.”

Around the next corner...

Scree stopped. Lying in the middle of the passage was the three-meter high alien who’d run from them back at the start. The one who’d been releasing all the others. It was dead. It was half eaten. The creatures that had done the eating were still there.

They looked up, blood dripping from their faces, and looked pleased at the idea of dessert. Scree crouched and readied his sword.

“Come on, you bastards.” But he edged towards the wall as he said it.

The creatures, six of them, all different but unmistakably related, arranged themselves across the hall. They stalked forward, low to the ground, clawed feet clicking on the floor, red eyes dark with hatred.

The cannon took down two and injured a third. It pissed the rest off and they leapt forward. One attacked Scree and it was all he could do to stay alive for the first few seconds. He had one hand around the creature’s neck, holding it off. He dropped his sword, used his other hand as well. The creature was snapping at him. The smell of blood and death washed over Scree’s face and he almost vomited.

Then a moment of rest.

Amy was there, attacking with her hoe. Scree couldn’t keep his grip when the creature suddenly changed its point of attack. It lashed out at the American with claws and teeth. It grabbed her hand, pulled her close. She screamed when it took her hand in its mouth and bit. She held up the stump, spraying blood, and screamed some more.

Scree scrabbled on the floor for his sword, couldn’t find it. Then he kicked it away and scrambled after it on his hands and knees.

Finally, he grabbed it and rose to his feet. Tim raced forward to help his sister. He beat at the alien, pummeling its back and legs, mad with rage. The creature pulled Amy close again, silenced her screams with one jaw stretching bite. Tim was screaming and crying. He beat swung harder as his sister’s body fell to the floor. The creature batted away his club, grabbed his arm, pulled him towards those blood soaked teeth.

A second after reclaiming his sword, Scree attacked too. He hacked at a leg, ran the creature through. He twisted the sword as the alien turned back to him. It spat out Tim’s arm, lunged, but Scree twisted the sword again, used it to keep his distance.

And the alien died on the end of his sword, still slavering after his throat, still struggling to have one more bite.

Pulling his blade free, Scree turned to face the next fight. But it was done. Numbers had prevailed. Flint took Scree’s sword from his hand and used it to finish the alien that had been injured in the initial cannon blast. He hacked the heads off all of them to make sure there’d be no surprises.

Scree drew in a deep breath. There was blood everywhere. Red blood and the dark, thick blood of the aliens. Everyone was covered in it. He wiped his face as he looked around. Tim and Amy were lying together and that seemed right. They’d never spoke much to each other, but Scree had seen them communicating in other ways. They’d left notes for the other to find, played games of hide and seek that could last hours, threw things at each other as they passed in the Hakahei’s narrow halls. They’d continued to play the games they’d played as kids.

Another hurgon was dead too. Scree didn’t even know its name. He hadn’t really talked to any of them.

And...

“Dido?” Scree went to stand by the fallen dwife. Mintar was already there, crouched by her side. The green ribbon in the dwife’s hair had come loose and Mintar took it out, wiped the blood away, and retied it. He smoothed her hair.

“I’m sorry, Mintar,” Scree said. “She shouldn’t have been here. I shouldn’t have let her come.”

But Mintar shook his head. “She wanted to be here. She wanted to help. We needed people, Scree, and dwives are people too.”

“Yes, but...”

“Should we have stopped Amy from coming?”

Scree wasn’t going to argue with him. “I’m sorry, Mintar.”

Palsamon cleared his throat. “If we are to do this we should run. The servant is dead, we can hope these are the last creatures he released.”

Scree looked around again. But if he stopped to look he would stay there until the world ended, which might not be all that far away. So he ran, and the others ran with him.

Twenty minutes later, Scree rounded a corner and slowed to a walk, sucking in deep breaths.

“Getting soft,” he mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” A few months ago he’d have fought his way from one end of the ship to the other without difficulty. Now? All he wanted to do was sit down to rest. But a few months ago he wouldn’t have been fighting this fight at all. A lifetime ago he’d told Nemucca that trolls avoided any fight they couldn’t win, and yet here he was. The lad had replied that he’d change his mind when he found someone whose honor he craved. Scree had probably called him an idiot, and yet here he was...

Just down the hall was a door. A bloody big door, with reinforcing panels seamlessly joined to what already appeared to be impervious material. There were no other passages. There were no other doors.

“What do you think?” Thorpe asked.

“How much time we got?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Then I reckon we’ve found what we’ve been searching for.”

Thorpe nodded and looked around. He went to Flint and took the pack of explosives.

“You want some of this,” Bones said. He took off his pack and handed over the fusing. “I reckon you will. Don’t want too much though. Haven’t got all day, do we. Not all day. Not long at all.” He rubbed his injured leg. “I reckon I’ve had enough running for today.”

Thorpe and Brick set the explosives, jamming some into each corner of the door and saving the biggest piece for the middle. Then they broke off five even lengths of fuse. Bones went forward to take one of the fuses. Mintar took another and Brother Kalis took the last one. They stood near the explosives, looking at each other. Looking at Scree.

“Ready,” said Thorpe. “One, two... Three.”

They stuck the fuses into the explosives and ran. Scree waited until they had passed him, then he ran as well.

From around the corner the blast was powerful enough to make his ears hurt. He didn’t wait to recover. He raced around the corner and ran through the smoke.

The door was a twisted, red-hot wreck. He went through the gap, sword ready. Hakans and hurgon crowded his back.

39: Multeese

Scree stalked through the smoke, ready to do violence. He could see three figures standing motionless near the front of the room.

They still didn’t move as Scree got closer. Eventually, he could see why. They were robots. Three legged, like the army on Lapenti, but with shining bodies and clear glass bulbs for heads.

The robots weren’t a threat, so Scree turned to examine the rest of the room.

Lying on the floor in the corner was another of the tall, skinny servants. The creature’s head was holding on with one thin, bloody bit of flesh. An arm was missing. It was cut and bleeding from a dozen other wounds. A piece of shrapnel was lodged in its chest. Scree wanted to kill it again anyway.

But he continued to look around.

The one huge window went down low to the ground. The controls seemed to be nothing more than different colored panels on the floor with levers and switches on the walls.

The only movement came from the bulbs on top of the robots. Green gases swirled around a mess of wires— copper, silver, and gold.

“Is that the multeese?” Scree asked.

Thorpe was already looking. “I’m not sure?” he said. He tapped on the bulb and the gas swirled and danced. “I think it must be.” He pursed his lips. “I suppose this might be the only way they could think to actually be able to do anything.”

“Ten minutes,” Brick said, checking his watch.

Scree shrugged. “Don’t think it matters really. Lets blow things up then get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” Mintar said. “And go where?”

“Home.”

Bones was already getting to work, sticking explosives to the robots and preparing small fuses.

“We can’t jump back,” Mintar said. “We’ll never make it.”

Scree shrugged. “I’d rather die slow out there than in here not trying.”

“Save some for that wall there,” Scree told Bones, pointing to the side wall facing out towards the Hakahei. At least the bridge was on the right side of the ship instead of being in the center.

When the explosives were set, they put on their breather masks and blew out the wall. Scree went to stand in the hole. If he leaned out he thought he could see the ship, a spot of blackness about five kilometers behind.

Thorpe leaned out to look as well. “Easy.”

“I thinks I notice your sarcasm.” Scree said. Thorpe was right though. It was so impossible there wasn’t even any point trying.

“Let’s kill these suckers, then do nothing,” Brick said from beside one of the robots. “Let’s just sit here and wait to be rescued.”

“By who?”

“Kim’ll give it a shot.”

Mintar shook his head. “It won’t work, no matter how much Kim wants it to.”

“Why not?” Brick asked.

Mintar explained. Scree couldn’t fault the explanation.

Thorpe sighed. “See if Stone has made it back to the Hakahei.”

“Five minutes.”

Scree didn’t like sitting around doing nothing, but he nodded. <Yo Stone, you there?>

<Yo, Scree.>

<Where you at?>

<Climbing.>

<You gonna make it back to the Hakahei?>

<Doing it now.>

<We thought we might hang around here. You know, see what happens.>

<Right. See you ‘round then, Scree.>

Other trolls said their farewells too, and Scree finally knew for sure that none of them were trolls any more. <Say good-bye to Kim for me.> He gave a little smile. <It was an honor...>

“The Hakahei has gone,” Mintar said.

“I knows.”

* * *

Scree looked around, adjusted his mask and cleared his throat. “So we need to blow these things up then?”

“I guess so,” Thorpe replied. “Might as well use all the explosives. Make sure we do it properly.”

Scree was about to agree when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He leapt back, sword raised, and watched as a strange creature climbed up the first of the robots. It was the thing they had left lying on the floor after the giant’s club broke the glass box. Not the turtle, the other thing. Or part of it. Or some of them. Eight hands had grabbed onto one of the big donuts. Three of those arms had also grabbed some of the other bits— the balls and the smaller donut— with the hands on the other end of the arms.

“What the hell?”

Two of the balls had eyes on them, blinking slowly, separately. One of the hands held a piece of metal.

Another flash of movement and the rest of the body parts from down below came to a halt in the middle of the room. The parts quickly rearranged themselves into an approximation of a hakan body. Two ‘legs’, beneath the larger donut. Three arms holding onto the top of that— two as actual arms, the last as a neck holding the smaller donut. There were three more arms, two holding eyeballs and the last holding a ball that had a mouth. The mouth was smiling.

“Bloody hell.” Thorpe said.

The second creature sidled toward the soldier. It wasn’t threatening. It was testing Thorpe’s reaction. “Let’s see what it wants,” he said, though he didn’t sound confident.

The thing came closer and Thorpe still didn’t move, so it reached out one of its hands.

Thorpe looked at Scree. He looked around. “Nice knowing you all,” he said, and he reached out and took the hand.

The creature shuddered and shook for a moment, then let go.

“That’s it?” Brick asked. “It just wanted to hold hands?”

The creature shook again, like a dog drying off. One eye blinked, the other. A long tongue came out of the mouth, wiggled, rolled, went back in. It licked its lips. “Hello.”

Scree almost dropped his sword.

“Hello,” Palsamon said calmly. “My name is Palsamon.”

“My name is,” it glanced at Thorpe, “William.”

Thorpe raised his eyebrows. “William? That’s my father’s name.”

“I apologies if I offended you. My real name would be unpronounceable for you. This way is easier.”

“No, that’s all right.” Thorpe rubbed at the hand that had held the hand of the alien.

The creature nodded. “I am William, then. I have been imprisoned for... A long time. I do not know how you would measure the time. A long time. My people were once called tokken.”

“Perhaps your people yet live,” Palsamon said.

“Perhaps,” William said. “But I would like revenge, just in case.”

“We were going to blow the bastards up,” Scree said.

William nodded. “We would prefer something a bit more personal,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

Scree nodded. “Whatever. Long as they die.”

“We wanted to let them live.”

Scree narrowed his eyes. “How’s that revenge?”

“If we throw them out into this strange universe the gas particles will be separated. They will still be able to think, to a degree, but will not be able to actually do anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“There needs to be a certain amount of the gas in one place, interacting, for them to be able to act.”

Thorpe smiled. “So they’ll have an eternity to think about what they’re missing.”

William nodded his upper donut.

“Sounds good then,” Scree said.

Some of hakans pushed the multeese robot towards the hole in the wall.

The second tokken clung to its head all the while. When they got close, it started to bash on the glass bulb with its piece of metal. The glass cracked and the creature paused. And when the robot was at the wall, starting to lean out, it bashed again. The glass smashed and the tokken stuck its hand into the gas as it streamed out through the hole. The robot tipped further and the alien leapt clear before it finally tumbled into the nothing of the universe. And the gas disappeared, separated, blown away by the wind of their passage.

The next two robots went the same way, lost in moments in the horrible, swirling mist.

When they were done, the two creatures touched each other. The second one shook, like William had, and tested its lips and tongue. “Hello.”

Scree nodded. “Hi.”

“My name is,” this one looked at Thorpe as well, considered... “My name is Molly.”

Thorpe laughed. “My dog when I was a boy.”

“Thank you,” Molly said. It rearranged itself into almost-humanoid form.

“You’re welcome.” Scree was slightly bemused. “I suppose.”

“Can we leave this universe now, please? I don’t like it very much.”

“No, actually,” Scree said.

“We don’t really know how,” Thorpe added. “So we’re going to wait here to be rescued.”

“You don’t know how?” William asked. “This was part of your plan?”

“You sound a bit too much like Thorpe,” Scree said. “But how many multeese have been killed in the past?”

“None that I know of,” William conceded.

“Right, then don’t points out the one little thing we did wrong.”

The one little thing.

40: One Button

Kim sat in the captain’s chair and stared out the window, trying to think. Thinking wasn’t actually the problem— not thinking about Scree and Brick and Thorpe and all the others, that was the problem. How far had the alien ship drifted in the other universe? How long until it stopped? Impossible to know. Maybe impossible to work out.

She turned her attention to her console, as if she would find the one button to fix all her problems.

“Hurgon,” Inaki said.

“What?” Of course, he was right. The hurgon were the only people who could really help them now. The kil’ini could maneuver in the other universe and, maybe, bring the ship back.

“There are kil’ini back at Lapenti. Not many, but if we can get them a message, they may help.”

Kim hit the buttons for the intercom and called for Cuto to come to the bridge. Then she sat impatiently, waiting for him to arrive.

“Cuto, we need help. How long will it take kil’ini to get here from Lapenti?”

“Not very long. Only minutes, I suspect.”

“Get them then, quickly. Use the ansible.”

“Why are they needed?”

“Because Scree and the others might still be alive.”

“Cuto will call. Though it might be half an hour by the time any rescue is complete.”

“What? Why?”

“It is not just getting here. Kil’ini will have to chase the multeese ship. And then get everyone out. Then get oxygen into the rescue chamber. Half an hour might be a conservative estimate. They may run out of air in the meantime.”

“Don’t...” She held up a hand. “Just do it.”

Inaki cleared his throat. “Kim?”

“What is it, Inaki? I’m busy.”

She turned and looked at the moai. He was pointing out the window. And the multeese ship was there, racing along a couple of hundred kilometers in front of the Hakahei.

Kim swallowed. “I thought Stone said it was all under control.” She waited for the face on the screen behind her. She waited for the missiles.

A voice came over the radio. “Well, you goings to send someone to rescue us or nots?” Scree asked.

“What? Yes. We’re on our way. Yes.”

She was wondering what to do, trying to get her head working. She was looking at all the buttons, looking for the magical one again.

“Get us closer,” Stone said over the radio.

Kim had accelerated a while ago, trying to charge the batteries, so they were already gaining on the larger ship. Done then. As much as it could be. She had everything under control. Apart from her hands. Her hands were shaking.

And her heart.

When they finally got within range she tried to match speeds. By the time she was done, she noticed the Lander crossing to the gap. She sat back and closed her eyes and prayed that Scree and the rest of her crew would get back alive.

She didn’t know how long she sat like that, breathing, tapping strange, meaningless rhythms on the arm of her chair, but she didn’t open her eyes until there was a commotion down on the floor of the bridge.

Scree was standing there with a group of hakans and a hurgon behind him. She stood up, staring at Scree. It was long seconds before she turned her attention to the others. Thorpe, Brick, Flint and Bones. Suldon, Palsamon and Mintar. That was all? Where were the others who had gone across and not come back with the first group? The McCrees. Chasm, Peak and Shardy. Beth. Dido. Where was Dido? She sat back down in her chair, rubbing at her eyes. How could Dido have died? Kim knew the dwife was no more worthy of life than any of the others, but she was the one who seemed to symbolize all those who had been lost.

Those who were still alive deserved something, but Kim didn’t think she could do it. Dido?

“What are you doing up there?” Thorpe asked. “I told you not to get out of the wheelchair.”

Kim opened her eyes. She stared at the soldier. And she thanked him silently.

“You mind your own business, Thorpe.” She gave a small smile. “I’m the Captain and I’ll do as I please.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I apologies.”

Kim could see that they were all exhausted, even the trolls, but they had the look of people who’d done great things and would do them again when the time came. She smiled for them all. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “But how did you do it?” How did they do it? How did any of them get back alive. She had sent them out expecting they would all die, perhaps for nothing. To have any of them back alive was more than she had hoped for. She tried to concentrate on the positives, but it was hard. Dido…

Scree shrugged. “There was a button. We pressed it.”

“There was just one button?”

“No, there were lots.”

“And you just happened to press the right one?”

“No. William pressed it.”

Kim didn’t say anything for a moment. “Who’s William?”

“My father,” Thorpe said. “And also an alien we met.”

“You met an alien?”

“We mets a few. Buts William and Molly were the only friendly ones.”

“Right. And you talked to William and Molly?” The odds of that were unbelievable.

“Yes. But more importantly,” Thorpe said, “Molly talked to the multeese for a moment as it was leaving the ship.”

Kim couldn’t think. She needed sleep. But she supposed Scree and Thorpe were being deliberately difficult. The multeese left the ship? “What?”

“Molly talked to the multeese and, amongst other things, found out where the button was. Not that she knew it was important at the time.”

“Right.” She wouldn’t worry about it now. She’d ask them later, when they weren’t being so obtuse and she wasn’t being so stupid.

“Would you like to meet William and Molly?” Scree asked. “They’re down stairs. If they decide to hang around they might do Meledrin out of a job.” He seemed pleased by the thought.

“Yes, of course. But I think you should all go and rest. Go to medical. And, Scree.”

“Kim?”

“Don’t you ever do something like that again. You’re a bloody idiot.”

He smiled. “You told me to.”

Kim smiled back. “Well, I’m a idiot too.”

“By the way,” Thorpe said, “there’s thousands of other aliens across in the multeese ship. It’s like a zoo.”

“What?”

Kim listened as Thorpe explained. And when he’d finished, she sat silently for a long time. “Ahhh... So we have to rescue them before they run out of oxygen?” What were the odds that they all breathed oxygen?

“They should be fine for a while,” Thorpe said. “Power is probably a bigger issue, to run the life support things they were in.”

Good. She had a minute to think. “Go to medical, then. Rest. I’ll see what I can organize.” Calling Earth would probably be a good start. Then organizing for the hurgon to get their contracts back to Hulgorn. And...

But Scree and his companions hadn’t moved.

Flint, standing by Scree’s side, suddenly stood to attention and saluted. Others started to do the same.

Kim blushed and quickly sat back down. “Well, if none of you are going to medical or to rest then I’ll find jobs for you,” she said in her best serious voice.

But there was an alien down stairs, and more across in the multeese ship. She’d have to think about them sooner or later.

Epilogue

Sooner

Kim stood to the side, listening as Tuki spoke. His confidence was there for all to see.

He spoke of the sacrifices made and the great deed of defeating the multeese.

And he was right, but just now, Kim still thought the price they paid was too high. She wanted to go up the front and add her voice to the memories, but she couldn’t. She stayed where she was, tears running down her cheeks, and listened.

When the ceremony was over, people drifted away. Suldon and Thorpe were talking to William, a strange conglomeration of body parts that seemed to come and go as they pleased. The other one was nearby, talking with Lisarea.

“Kim?”

Kim watched Keeble, Topper, Ari and Ping for a moment as they wandered away. She reined in her attention. “Yes, Mel?”

“Palsamon and I were hoping you would be able to take us to Sherindel.”

“What? Why?”

“We believe we know the location of a lost city and we wish to investigate.”

“You’ve found a lost city since leaving Sherindel?”

“Yes. Palsamon was reading a book and it mentioned a name. I am not really sure I am interested in digging up the past when the future seems much more interesting but...” She glanced at Palsamon and blushed. “It seems my future lies with Palsamon, one way or the other.”

Mel was giving up what she wanted to be with a man? Kim smiled but decided to keep quite on that subject. “So you’re going to set up camp at this city and study it? Dig stuff up and whatever?”

“It would seem so. We are going to see if we can convince some dwarves to assist us.”

Kim raised an eyebrow.

“It was Palsamon’s idea.”

“What about the Hakahei? Who’ll run the communications department?”

“Tami is more than capable.”

“Tami?”

Meledrin blushed. “Tamidilin.”

“Of course, Mel.” Kim smiled as, over near the wall, Topper tentatively took Ping’s hand.

Hoodek and Bargle were laughing about something. The two young dwarves cut off, as if feeling guilty.

Mintar was talking with Tuki and Ruby. The dwarf had a green ribbon in his hand. When Tuki and Ruby left, he tied it into his beard and went to look at the newest memorial plaque on the wall.

A knot of trolls were nearby.

Standing in the dirt, watching the swirl of people around her, Kim felt alone. She didn’t know if it was because she was the captain or because she had hardly taken any part at all in the events of the last few days. She’d been unconscious or injured through most of them. And when she woke up she sent everyone out to die.

Kim watched as Scree and Thorpe came to stand with her.

“William and Molly are fascinating people,” Thorpe said. “They can feel their limbs from about a hundred meters away, but if they are separated for too long the parts will die. The small circle bit holds the brain. The large one has most of the other bits they need. But energy and... whatever... can be passed from one bit to the other, just through contact.” He shook his head. “They can also take stuff from other beings— like information from me, for instance. Very interesting.”

Kim shook her head. “Amazing.”

Scree nodded, “They are. But I reckon there’s a lot of interesting and amazing hakans around here as well.” He ran his hand over his bald head. “Anyway, I thinks I’m going to go and rest.” He nodded to Thorpe and Kim and left.

Kim stood for a moment, blinking. “Ummm... You’ll be pleased to know, Doctor Thorpe, that I’m going to rest too. Let me know if we hear any updates from Captain Fallon and the Amelia.” The American ship could arrive any time.

“Of course.”

She nodded and hurried away, the momentary touch of Scree’s hand on hers singing in her mind. Hakans could pass information through contacts as well, apparently. She didn’t feel so alone after all.

Later

Kim watched as William searched through the files.

“The multeese computers are vast and complicated,” the alien said.

Kim could believe that.

“If Molly had not touched the multeese I would not be able to find anything.” He sent one of his spare hands crawling off to push some of the buttons on the other side of the room. “There are one hundred and twenty seven thousand intelligent species stored on this ship, with one of each gender for each. Some have only one gender, but others have as many as five.”

Kim raised her eyebrows. “That’s a lot of aliens.” It was a lot of people to get to know. The Amelia was just a few hours away now, racing through real space after a few long jumps. The Americans were going to be busy helping very soon.

“A lot, yes,” William agree. “They have been collected over nearly two hundred thousand years from across three galaxies.”

“How do they all fit?”

“Many are hardly the size of...” He held his fingers a couple of centimeters apart. “Some are very small.”

“Yeah, but some must be huge.”

“I would shrug, but I do not have shoulders.” He tapped at a few more buttons. “There are hakans in here as well, twelve in all?”

“Twelve?”

“Yes. It seems that the genetic codes of the six peoples were altered slightly— do you know what that means?— so the multeese could not decide if the six different peoples were truly the same species.”

“Where are they? We should release them.”

“There is no hurry. All of this will be very shocking for them and you should make sure you are prepared to help them adjust.”

Kim looked at William and swallowed. For the first time, she wondered how well he and Molly were really coping. Perhaps his contact with both Thorpe and the multeese was helping. She cleared her throat. “Does it say where your home is?”

“Yes. The hurgon home world— there are three hurgon stored in the ship somewhere— is here.” He pointed to one side of the room. “And my home is over there.” He pointed to the other side of the room. There is almost half a galaxy between.”

Kim looked from one point to the next, as if she could see the distance between them. “After we drop off Grandmother Donni and the damn contracts, we’re going to start heading in that direction.” She figured it was the least they could do. “We’ll get you and Molly back home.”

“We are not going to stay to help the P’targa?”

Kim shrugged. “I don’t want to be involved in that mess. I’m sure the Americans will do what they can.”

“But the outcome…”

“Isn’t really important. The hurgon will probably take a few decades to sort themselves out and hakans will have all that time to get organized as well.” She sighed and sat back. “Donni says the minor families won’t lose, but we’ll be well and truly ready if they do.”

“If you say so.”

“If nothing else, we’ve got the multeese technology. We can use it to bargain or to threaten.” She shrugged. “Either way, the hurgon aren’t an issue. So, we’ll concentrate on getting you home. A worthy cause, I think.”

“We have been gone a long time. It might not even exist anymore.”

He didn’t sound sad. Maybe it was too big a thing to truly understand.

“We’ll get you home,” Kim repeated.

“It is a long way.” He looked back at the computer. “It could take a thousand years to get there. On the way we could pass a thousand of the other civilizations mentioned in these computers. Or their remains.”

Kim nodded. “It should be an interesting journey.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The End

Thank you for reading.

I hope you enjoyed Tribes of the Hakahei.

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I haven’t done any acknowledgements in previous Tribes of the Hakahei books. Consider these acknowledgements to cover all of them—

Kelly Robinson,

Sharon Dunne, Andrew Whitaker, Lisa Cox,

Tansy Rayner Roberts (and everyone else at EnVision),

Heather Gammage, Dirk Flinthart.

And everyone at Vison Writers who read and commented at different stages.

Other Books by Scott J. Robinson

The Age of Heroes

Rawk is one of the great Heroes. He has travelled the world for forty years, hunting exotic creatures, battling magic and fighting evil wherever he found it. But he has been fighting mostly mundane battles since Prince Weaver outlawed magic. And with no great deeds left to be done, Rawk is afraid he’ll soon be the old man in the corner of the tavern, dreaming of the good old days and telling tales for anyone who will buy him a drink.

But when a huge wolden wolf is spied from the walls of Katamood for the first time in a decade, Rawk is the man the city looks to once more. He’ll save them. He always has.

Rawk will fight to ensure the Age of Heroes doesn’t slip away into history, but what if the good old days aren’t quite as good as he remembers?

The Brightest Light

Kade was once the up and coming star of The Skyway Men, a ruthless criminal organization. Then he made one mistake. The another. Then one too many. Lucky to be left alive, he was banished to a backwoods skyland that flew the quietest wind-lanes.

When he’s finally offered another chance Kade can’t believe his luck.

But ten years working a smithy and fixing crystal engines is a long time, and with a weapon like none other up for grabs, the stakes are higher than ever.

In a world of death and corruption, shady deals and dirty deeds Kade doesn’t know who to trust. He doesn’t know who’s on which side. He doesn’t even know which side he’s on any more.

All he knows is that in a world of kill or be killed he suddenly isn’t sure which is the better option.

About the Author

Scott J. Robinson has been writing fantasy and Science Fiction for as long as he can remember. He’s had short stories and poetry published in various publications over the last 25 years.

When he isn’t writing Scott likes to do woodwork, watch cricket and think about writing.

Scott lives in Woodford, a small town near Brisbane in Queensland, Australia with his wife and three children.

Visit www.tengama.com for more.