Infinity's Shore

But heroism and miraculous deeds are routine during war, Sara thought as crowds gathered around the young man. His limbs trembled with exhaustion as he peeled off the rewq that had protected his eyes above the Spectral Flow. He gave the Smith a militia salute when Uriel trotted out of the workshop grottoes.

“Before attacking Ovoom Town, the Jophur issued a two-part ultimatum,” he explained in a hoarse voice. “Their first demand is that all g’Keks and traekis must head to special gathering zones.”

Uriel blew air through her nostril fringe, a resigned blast, as if she had expected something along these lines.

“And the second fortion of the ultinatun?”

She had to wait for her answer. Kepha, the horsewoman from Xi, arrived bearing a glass of water, which the pilot slurped gratefully, letting streams run down his chin. Most urrish eyes turned from the unpleasant sight. But Uriel stared patiently till he finished.

“Go on,” she prompted again, when the youth handed the empty glass back to Kepha with a smile.

“Um,” he resumed. “The Jophur insist that the High Sages must give up the location of the dolphin ship.”

“The dolphin shif?” Uriel’s hooves clattered on the flagstones. “We heard vague stories of this thing. Gossif and conflicting hints told vy the Rothen. Have the Jophur now revealed what it’s all avout?”

The courier tried to nod, only now Tyug had come forward, gripping the youth’s head with several tentacles. He winced as the traeki alchemist secreted ointment for his sun-and windburns.

“It seems … Hey, watch it!” He pushed at the adamant tendrils, then tried ignoring the traeki altogether.

“It seems these dolphins are the prey that brought both the Rothen and the Jophur to Galaxy Four in the first place. What’s more, the Jophur say the sages must be in contact with the Earthling ship. Either we give up its location, or face more destruction, starting with Tarek Town, then lesser hamlets, until no building is left standing.”

Kurt shook his head. “They’re bluffin’. Even Galactics couldn’t find all our wood structures, hidden under blur cloth.”

The courier seemed less sure. “There are fanatics everywhere who think the end is here. Some believe the Jophur are agents of destiny, come to set us back on the Path. All such fools need do is start a fire somewhere near a building and throw some phosphorus on the flame. The Jophur can sniff the signal using their rainbow finder.”

Rainbow finder … Sara pondered. Oh, he means a spectrograph.

Jomah was aghast. “People would do that?”

“It’s already happened in a few places. Some folks have taken their local explosers hostage, forcing them to set off their charges. Elsewhere, the Jophur have established base camps, staffed by a dozen stacks and thirty or so robots, gathering nearby citizens for questioning.” His tone was bleak. “You people don’t know how lucky you have it here.”

Yet Sara wondered. How could the High Sages possibly give in to such demands? The g’Kek weren’t being taken off-planet in order to restore their star-god status. As for the traeki, death might seem pleasant compared with the fate planned for them.

Then there was the “dolphin ship.” Even the learned Uriel could only speculate if the High Sages truly were in contact with a bunch of fugitive Terran clients.

Perhaps it was emotional fatigue, or a lingering effect of Tyug’s drug, but Sara’s attention drifted from the litany of woes recited by the pilot. When he commenced describing the destruction and death at Ovoom, Sara steered her wheelchair to join Emerson, standing near the courier’s glider.

The starman stroked its lacy wings and delicate spars, beaming with appreciation of its ingenious design. At first Sara thought it must be the same little flier she had seen displayed in a Biblos museum case — the last of its kind, left over from those fabled days just after the Tabernacle arrived, when brave aerial scouts helped human colonists survive their early wars. Over time, the art had been lost for lack of high-tech materials.

But this machine is new!

Sara recognized g’Kek weaving patterns in the fine fabric, which felt slick to the touch.

“It is a traeki secretion,” explained Tyug, having also abandoned the crowd surrounding the young messenger. The alchemist shared Emerson’s preference for physical things, not words.

“i/we sample-tasted a thread. The polymer is a clever filamentary structure based on mulc fiber. No doubt it will find other uses in piduras to come, as our varied schemes converge.”

There it was again. Hints of a secret stratagem. A scheme no one had yet explained, though Sara was starting to have suspicions.

“Forgive us/me for interrupting your contemplation, honored Saras and Emersons,” Tyug went on. “But a scent message has just activated receptor sites on my/our fifth sensory torus. The simplified meaning is that Sage Purofsky desires your presences, in proximity to his own.”

Sara translated Tyug’s awkward phrasing.

In other words, no more goofing off. It’s time to get back to work.