Infinity's Shore

Stepping in front of Chuchki, with the sill of the hatch between them, she removed the tunic they had given her, as an honorary member of the crew. At first the gesture had pleased Rety — till she saw the Terrans were just another band of losers.

Rety tossed the garment in the airlock.

“Tell Dr. Baskin an’ the others thanks, but I’ll be makin’ my own way from here on. Good luck. Now scram.”

Chuchki stared at first, unable to move or speak. Then servos whirred. The walker started to move.

“Hit the button, yee!” Rety shouted over her left shoulder.

Back in the control room, her little “husband” pressed a lever triggering the airlock’s emergency cycle. The inner hatch slid shut, severing Chuchki’s wail of protest. Soon, a row of purple lights showed the small chamber filling with water as the outer door opened.

A few duras later, she heard engine noise — the now-familiar growl of the speed sled that had brought the two of them here — ebbing with distance as the machine fled. She ordered the outer door closed and locked against the possibility that Chuchki might try something “heroic.” Some still thought of her as a child, and many dolphins also had a mystical attachment to their human patrons.

But I’ll be just fine. A lot better off than those fools, in fact.

Several low, squat hallways led away from the lock, but only one was lit by a string of glow bulbs. Following this trail, she made her way back toward the control room, sometimes lingering to stroke a panel or gaze into a chamber filled with mysterious machines. For the last few days she had looked over this salvaged starship — once a Buyur packet boat, according to Chuchki. Though a mess, it was one of the “best” recovered derelicts, capable of life support as well as full engine maneuvering, owing its remarkable state to the Midden’s chill, sterile waters. Durable Galactic machines might lie there unchanged forever, or until Jijo sucked them underground.

It’s mine now, she mused, surveying her prize. I’ve got my own starship.

Of course it was still a hunk of dross. All odds were against her getting anywhere in this moving scrap pile.

But the odds always had been against her, ever since she was born into that filthy tribe of savages, so proud of their sickly ignorance. And especially since she realized she’d rather be whipped for speaking up than be a slave to some bully with rotting teeth and the mind of a beast.

Rety had suffered some disappointments lately. But now she saw what each of the setbacks had in common. They all came about because of trusting others — first the sages of the Commons, then the Rothens, and finally a ragtag band of helpless Earthlings.

But all that was in the past. Now she was back doing what she did best — relying on herself.

The control room spanned roughly thirty paces in width, featuring about a dozen wide instrument consoles. All were dark, except one jury-rigged station festooned with cables and makeshift bypass connections. Lights blazed across that panel. On the floor nearby, a portable holosim display revealed a staticky map of the ancient vessel’s surroundings, a dart-shaped glow threading its way through a maze of ridges at the bottom of the great ocean.

Most of the decoy ships cruised with simple autopilots, but a few moved more flexibly, crewed by volunteer teams, making adjustments to the swarm pattern planned by the Niss Machine. In this effort, Rety’s intelligence and agile hands had been helpful to Chuchki, making up for her lack of education. She felt justified in having earned her starship.

“hi captain!”

Her sole companion pranced on the instrument console, each footstep barely missing a glowing lever or switch. The little urrish male greeted her with a shrill ululation.

“we did it! like pirates of the plains! like in legends of the battle aunties! now we free no more noor beasts no more yuckity ship full of water-loving fish!”

Rety laughed. Whenever loneliness beckoned, there was always yee to cheer her up.

“so where to now, captain?” the diminutive creature asked. “shake free of Jijo? head someplace good and sunny, for a change?”

She nodded.

“That’s the idea. Only we gotta be patient a little while longer.”

First Streaker must collect Chuchki and other scattered workers. Rety had an impression that the Earthlings were waiting for events to happen onshore. But after hearing the Jophur ultimatum she knew — Gillian Baskin would soon be forced to act.

I helped them, she rationalized. An’ I won’t interfere with their plan … much.

But in the long run, none o’ that’ll matter. Everybody knows they’re gonna get roasted when they try to get away Or else the Jophur’ll catch ’em, like a ligger snatchin’ up a gallaiter faun.

Nobody can blame me for tryin’ to find my own way out of a trap like that.

And if someone did cast blame her way?

Rety laughed at the thought.

In that case, they can try to outfart a traeki, for all I care. This ship is mine, and there’s nothin’ anybody can do about it!

She was getting away from Jijo — one way or another.