There were no real gaps in the defense screens, not given the speeds and vectors involved, and Ghenji angled his needle toward the lowest energy concentration level in the screens with the least course deviation possible. Then, just in the nanosecond when the needle impacted the screens, the system shifted all power to ablation and defense.
The needle was through the Mogulate defenses, and nothing lay between it and the second hollowed-out asteroid.
Ghenji released all four torps.
In his mental display, ahead of him, his screens showed far fewer energy lines impacting the Parthindian installation than during the first mission and, behind him, far greater numbers of energy flares that had once been Republic attack needles.
At that instant, the EDI screen blanked in overload protection. Nearly simultaneously, the needle bucked and shuddered—and the diversion screens crumbled. That was trouble. At the velocities his needle carried, anything at all that struck the needle could now turn it into a mass of scrap composite and metal.
A second shudder rattled the needle, and Ghenji couldn’t help but wince as fire shot through his back and down both legs. Then… he felt nothing below his waist. Nothing, not heat or chill.
Ignoring what he couldn’t do anything about, Ghenji forced himself to study the needle’s diagnostics. The shield generators had already gone red. The converter blinked amber, then red, and stored power reserves running down, barely enough for a return to the Amaterasu on residual velocity.
He funneled almost all the remaining power into the steering drives, trying to get the needle back at least close to the departure vector for rendezvous with the Amaterasu. If he didn’t get close enough, then injuries and habitability didn’t matter.
The fading screens did show him that the mission had been successful—where the second installation had been was a rapidly expanding mass of energy and mass. Then, needle system after system began to shut down.
Ghenji quickly cross-checked his departure vector against the projected track of the Amaterasu. Close… but was it close enough?
There were no other needles from flight four that had made it through, and the close-screens didn’t show any needle nearby enough to slave to. On his courseline and velocity, ETA with the Amaterasu was a good forty-three minutes away. And something like forty would be without power.
He triggered a burst comm. Sunbase control, kay-four lead, all systems red, on track for pick up. ETA plus forty-three. Will activate beacon. Mission accomplished.
Within less than five minutes, he could feel the chill beginning to creep above his waist, a sure sign of far greater damage to his needle and armor—and himself—than he’d realized. He hated the idea, but there was no help for it. He triggered the emergency suspension system.
As the cold rose around him, the shakes and shivers began, if only in his upper body, and he could not move. Somewhere in the mist beyond, there was the face of a woman with flowing white hair and skin as white as porcelain, and lips like cherries appeared above him.
“Speak of this to no one else, and you will be spared eternal winter,” she said, and bestowed a chilling kiss upon him—and the ice encased him with whiteness.
VIII
Ghenji blinked as the cocoon opened, and Rokujo smiled at him, bending down and brushing his lips with hers—warm and merely apple-red, rather than chill and cherry red.
“You gave even me quite a bit of trouble,” she murmured, “but you’ll be fine.”
“You’re not…” He remembered the words of the snow-woman in white—so like, if not identical to Rokujo—and he forced a smile.
“I am what I am, and you have a very good memory, for which I’m grateful.” She kissed him gently once more. “Besides, you really don’t believe in those ancient legends, do you?” Her white eyebrows arched, just slightly, but sinuously.
This time, after her kiss, his body and blood did not turn to ice.
TERRA-EXULTA
by S. L. Gilbow
S. L. Gilbow is a relatively new writer, with three stories published to date, all in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. He debuted in the February 2007 issue with “Red Card,” a dystopian SF story in the vein of Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery.”
Gilbow taught college English for a few years in the early nineties, but claims that he hasn’t had much training in writing fiction. He says he’s currently writing the great American novel. He’s only got one line so far, but says to trust him, it’s definitely going to be great, and it’s definitely going to be American.
This story is about language and how words can be created and used. It was inspired by the word “grimpting,” which was made up in junior high by Gilbow’s wife, her sister, and a childhood friend. Gilbow says he and his wife use it to describe those things that are so bad you can’t think of another word for them.
So add that one to your vocabulary, just don’t use it in reference to any of these stories.
I submit the following translation to the Galactic Society of Ancient Languages in response to the absurd assertion made at our last conference. Although we all agree that Archaic Planetary English can be translated into our Galactic Standard, some still hold that the process cannot be effectively reversed. Therefore, I submit the following sample of my work as evidence that such a translation is indeed possible.
I have selected a transmission at random from my files so that none can accuse me of selecting text based solely on its simplicity. I have chosen to retain some words in Galactic Standard, but only those few which cannot be logically translated. However, rest assured, the text below, and even this introduction written in that ancient language, could have been understood on Earth so very long ago. I hope, once and for all, this puts this issue to rest.
Doctor Galwot Kradame
Linguist
My Good Doctor Kradame,
May this transmission find you safe, warm, and well. It is difficult to believe seventeen years have passed since last we met. Where does time flow? I plan to return to the old system within the half-year and hope to see you once again. I will soon complete my latest project and begin the long journey home, to Earth—that place I left so very long ago. I have been gone far too long. It is now time to return.
I read your recent article in Interstellar Linguistics with great enthusiasm. Your proposal to translate our language into Archaic Planetary English fascinates me. If you want for material, I welcome you to use one of my works to complete your exercise. I recommend two of my articles for your consideration: “Terrology Made Simple” and “My Vision, My Worlds.” I await with great curiosity to see if such a translation—as academic as it may be—can actually be accomplished.
I also enjoyed your superb study of languages in this part—let us call it “my part”—of the Galaxy. Your analysis was brilliant, as always, and I delighted in seeing the information I provided you regarding dead languages proved helpful. I appreciate the eloquent way you put it: “Experience is surpassed only by more experience.”
In your previous transmission you asked me to identify all the words I have coined that are now a permanent—if anything is permanent—part of our wonderful language. As you know well, my career has been long and my writings voluminous, so attempting to track down every word I have created—intentionally or unintentionally—would prove futile. Nevertheless, as a lover of language, like you, I treasure the opportunity to highlight a few words which come to mind.