Finally, far behind and away from the furious activity, the Rooan herd caught up to her, enveloped her, carried her along.
The Space Turd felt cramped and foreign when she climbed back into it. Cardin was still banging on the hatch at random intervals with little enthusiasm. After checking on the soundly asleep Ceen and Vikka — utterly ambivalent now to them — she sat herself down at the helm, slid the life support controls back up to full, and turned back on the gravity generators. She slowed the ship and changed its course; in a few seconds it would begin to fall behind and away from the herd. Last, she reactivated Cardin's intercom and sensors, a gesture she could only think of as recompense for the use and misuse of his ship. And because it didn't matter anymore.
She flipped the hatch bolt with one foot, toed it open; it was still dark in the cabin, dark enough to hide her, but she could see the professor's face in the dim light of his computer, the lines of fear etched in it rendering him a stranger.
“Ms. Park?”
“Your handheld,” she said, and dropped the unit down to him.
“Ceen should wake up and let you out in a few hours, and then you can go home. In the meantime, collect what data you can.”
“But… Aurora…”
“You don't need to worry about Aurora, Professor.” And she closed and locked the hatch again.
She peeled off Ceen's patch, throwing it in the ship's flash‑recycler. Vikka she left as she was; it was up to Ceen to decide if he wanted to listen to her the entire trip back or leave her asleep.
Her suit was fully re‑charged. Time to leave the Turd, pick up Omi, and collect payment. She left the airlock one last time; the Turd was still on auto‑pilot, but would soon diverge from the herd as the Rooan changed trajectories again for the slingshot pass around Beserai. Her pickup rendezvous was arranged for the far side.
She moved through the herd, jumping from one giant, rough body to another as if she was a stone skipping across a lake, until she found one with a small silver sphere taped to the underside, just under the nose.
<1 still itch.>Turquoise said.
“Yeah, yeah. Omi, tell him to hang on.”
She peeled off the tape, held the sphere up beside her, and let it go in space. Its single blue lens blinked at her.
[About time.]
Large rippling shades of blue moved up and down the body of the Rooan. [The big guy is happy, too.]
The Rooan flashed another sequence of blue. “I didn't catch that,” Bari said.
[Oh, sorry, I was looking the wrong way,] Omi said. The sphere turned, flashed a sequence of lights at the Rooan, who flashed back.
<Thank you,>Turquoise said through Omi's translator.<The herd has given you Rooan names, in thanks for your assistance. Bari, it will honor us to be allowed to call you ####. Omicron, if #### does not suit you, I don't know what will.>
“Uh… I didn't catch that.”
[Light‑based names. If it helps, you're 23–17–83RGB Fading Reverse whereas I am 61–40–240RGB Brightening Center.]
“I'm honored,” Bari said, hoping she was.
<Your price. We near Beserai. You wish to surf with us?>
“Oh, I do.”
<It is, we would expect, lethal for non‑Rooan.>
“My suit will hold.”
<As you wish. We draw close. >Turquoise's massive body shuddered, and long vents opened in his sides along his entire length.<We will not be able to talk again until the far side, so please fasten yourself to a vent gill with something heat- and stress‑resistant, but also preferably not itchy. >
Bari pulled a harness out of her pack, then let the pack float away into space. It would not survive the trip, and she would not need it on the far side, where she had a small ship of her own waiting and ready. It took several long minutes to attach and seal the links across her torso and legs, until she felt almost a prisoner in the tight bindings. Then she looped the remainder around the vent gill. “I'm ready,“ she said. “Omi?”
The silver ball drew near, and she plucked it out of space and tucked it down inside a pocket along the front of her suit. [The indignity!] Omi said, his signal weak.
“Oh, shut up,” Bari said. Looking ahead, the bright crescent edge of a blue‑white planet loomed near.
The vent gill closed again, holding her fast. She put her hands to her sides and ran through a precise sequence of control gestures with both hands. The straps shrunk, tightening. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs and expanding her chest, then completed the last gesture. The Dzenni suit, technology far beyond human, hardened into an immoveable shell. She could no longer feel the straps, only the unyielding foam that the suit extruded around her. Her faceplate was clear, bright in the light of the planet.
The Rooan herd hit the edges of Beserai's thermosphere, riding the curve of the planet like surfers riding a wave, seeking the mesopause. She caught her breath as noctilucent clouds spread out in wisps below her, then held it as Turquoise's entire back half split asunder and a million thin, iridescent threads tumbled and waved behind, tasting and collecting the rare bounty of elements and ice crystals they passed through, saving and storing them for the long cold ahead.
<Your price. We near Beserai. You wish to surf with us?>
“Oh, I do.”
<It is, we would expect, lethal for non‑Rooan.>
“My suit will hold.”
<As you wish. We draw close.>Turquoise's massive body shuddered, and long vents opened in his sides along his entire length.<We will not be able to talk again until the far side, so please fasten yourself to a vent gill with something heat- and stress‑resistant, but also preferably not itchy. >
Bari pulled a harness out of her pack, then let the pack float away into space. It would not survive the trip, and she would not need it on the far side, where she had a small ship of her own waiting and ready It took several long minutes to attach and seal the links across her torso and legs, until she felt almost a prisoner in the tight bindings. Then she looped the remainder around the vent gill. “I'm ready,” she said. “Omi?”
The silver ball drew near, and she plucked it out of space and tucked it down inside a pocket along the front of her suit. [The indignity!] Omi said, his signal weak.
“Oh, shut up,” Bari said. Looking ahead, the bright crescent edge of a blue‑white planet loomed near.
The vent gill closed again, holding her fast. She put her hands to her sides and ran through a precise sequence of control gestures with both hands. The straps shrunk, tightening. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs and expanding her chest, then completed the last gesture. The Dzenni suit, technology far beyond human, hardened into an immoveable shell. She could no longer feel the straps, only the unyielding foam that the suit extruded around her. Her faceplate was clear, bright in the light of the planet.
The Rooan herd hit the edges of Beserai's thermosphere, riding the curve of the planet like surfers riding a wave, seeking the mesopause. She caught her breath as noctilucent clouds spread out in wisps below her, then held it as Turquoise's entire back half split asunder and a million thin, iridescent threads tumbled and waved behind, tasting and collecting the rare bounty of elements and ice crystals they passed through, saving and storing them for the long cold ahead.
So much beauty and wonder. Tears streamed down her face and were quickly wicked away by the suit, leaving only a tickling hint of their passage across her cheeks. As they picked up speed, stealing velocity from the planet as easily as they swept up elements, the Rooan began to swing out again on a new trajectory, the solar wind from Beserai's star now full at their backs. And every Rooan began to flash, in sequence with each other, patterns within patterns. They're singing, she realized.