They had spent the rest of that first day at the falls, swimming, climbing the slick rocks to find purchase beneath some of the less turbulent falls, letting the water cascade over their naked bodies. They had even discovered a cave behind one of the cataracts, had speculated on the treasure that lay within, but visions of sharp-toothed predators had cured their curiosity. They had eaten fruit and bread that Aristee had stowed in her pack and were disturbed only once by a call from the XO, who had delivered a routine progress report. Paladin had wondered when Aristee would return to the conversation they had begun on the bridge, but she had seemed at peace with the moment and had not wanted to spoil it. He had tapped into a little of her peace and had avoided the issue as well. Given his surroundings, he could easily pretend that he had but one task: to draw pleasure from the environment and the woman.
After relishing in fourteen standard hours of sunlight, twilight had washed over the sapphire sky, and Paladin had suggested that they head back to the launch. Aristee had insisted that they camp near the falls. She had taken along a small, Marine Corps-issue survival tent, so they had sent up their bivouac on the shoreline. They had made love until they were breathless, then had remained in each other's arms, whispered to sleep by the falls.
Morning's light cut through the flaps of their tent and drew a blinding line across Paladin's face. He suddenly bolted awake, wondering how long they had slept. 1125 CST. Aristee lay on her stomach, head resting on an arm, hair curving across her smooth cheek. She breathed softly and looked frail, a young girl incapable of all she had wrought. Paladin shifted gingerly toward her pack and removed the palmlink. He slipped through the tent flaps and stood shivering in the cool, moist air as he opened a channel to the Olympus.
"Yes, Brotur Taggart?" came the comm officer's quick response, his face displayed on the link's tiny screen. "Get me the XO."
"Aye, sir."
After waiting but a few seconds, the XO appeared, seated in the command chair. "What can I do for you, Brotur Taggart?"
"Status report on cargo and personnel loading."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure whether I can-"
"Mr. Taggart has full security clearance, Brotur Vyson." Paladin glimpsed over his shoulder at Aristee, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, struggling to keep warm.
"Yes, ma'am. Cargo and personnel loading proceeding behind schedule. Awaiting nineteen more troopship arrivals. Departure time now stands at 0200 hours on one-one-four." Aristee tore the link from Paladin's hand. "What's the problem?"
"We've had a few delays on the flight deck, and we discovered minor hull breaches in two of the troopships. Repairs are nearly finished."
"Why wasn't I notified of this earlier?"
"To be honest, ma'am, I assumed you were… busy."
"Assume nothing. See if you can shave a few hours off that DT, you read me, Vyson?"
"Aye, ma'am. We're on it."
She thumbed off the palmlink, handed it to him, then puffed air. "Maybe you were right. Maybe we shouldn't have come down."
He shrugged and stepped away from her, conscious of his nudity. Back inside the tent, he retrieved his boxers. When he came out, she was already halfway to the shore line. She furrowed her brow at his underwear and beckoned him with an index finger. They did have the rest of the day to relax; why shouldn't he live the fantasy a bit longer?
The palmlink beeped for an incoming message. He accepted, and the XO's face reappeared. "Brotur Taggart? We've just intercepted a communications drone. Message has been decrypted. The captain needs to hear this."
17
VEGA SECTOR,ROBERT'S QUADRANT,ALOYSIUS SYSTEM,CS OLYMPUS,
2654.113,2230 HOURS CONFEDERATION STANDARD TIME.
"Try it again. Yes, that's perfect. I can feel it. i Stronger now. Yes, stronger. What you see and what you feel-they should be much stronger, sometimes so strong that you can't bear them or distinguish between the two. But that's okay. That's normal, relatively speaking." In his mind, Blair reached out to Karista Mullens. He touched her cheek and could hardly believe that what he felt wasn't actually happening. Yes, the senses seemed heightened and blended together in a sensation entirely new to him. He snapped open his eyes, breaking the link. "We're tapping into the quantum bond between particles. That's how it works. Your cheek is over there, my hand over here. But the particles in my hand and your cheek are already connected at the quantum level. We think we're separate entities, but we're not. On one side of the universe a particle's rotation stops. On the other side of the universe, a particle linked to that one stops as well. Distances don't matter. And I guess as Pilgrims we're just able to recognize the connection."
She rolled her eyes and fell back on his cot. "This is about being, about emotion, not physics."
"There's a reason why we can do this, a scientific reason."
"We could make love without laying a hand on each other. Why don't you consider that instead of trying to explain this away? Our ancestors suffered from Space Syndrome Mutation. So here we are. Isn't that enough?"
He muttered, "Oh, man," and went to the bars of his cell, leaning back to work out a kink in his shoulder. She had to mention sex again.
I'm not trying seduce you.
Uh-huh…
"Why won't you tell more about this ability?" he asked, steering them far and away from sexual speculation. "You've taught me how to focus my thoughts and tap into that quantum level, but what can we do with this? What kind of range does this power have? Can we use it as a weapon? Can I force someone's eyes closed, throw someone against a wall, squeeze someone's heart until it stops beating? What?"
"You've reached out into gravity wells and found your way through them. No one explained how to do that. I've pointed you in the right direction, but I can't do any more."
That drew his snort. "Where I come from we call that rhetoric. Why don't you just answer a simple question?"
She sat up, pulled her long, blond locks behind her head, then lifted a narrow brow. "Because I don't know the answers. It's different for everyone, stronger in some, weaker in others. Not every Pilgrim has this ability. It's pretty rare. Even Frotur Johan can't do it. Neither can Amity Aristee."
"How many are we talking about?"
"Out of two billion or so Pilgrims, there are a hundred of us, maybe more. It takes time to realize you can do it."
"It's like telekinesis or something. Maybe the mutation exploited this ability in our ancestors," Blair supposed.
"This isn't just telekinesis. We've compared what we do to a few Terrans confirmed with those abilities. They can't feel the weight, the texture, or sense the smell of the objects they move. They describe the feeling as a force against another force. Sure, that's extrasensory, but what we have is much more. Some call it hypersensory or extrakinetic." She pushed herself up and came uncomfortably close, her eyes presenting a dangerous invitation. "But you-you're even more remarkable, Christopher Blair. You're a half-breed who's retained the power. As far as I know, you're the only one who has. I sensed the first time I contacted you that it was there. What you do with it is up to you. I can tell you this, though. If the universe has a consciousness, then it also has an eye on us. Some Pilgrims tried to exploit the power during the first war. They were successful at first, but when the Confederation finally captured some of them, they were taken to hospitals and… well, studied, vivisected, you know the rest. They were punished for breaking the edicts."