Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (592 page)

“You’re wrong if you think you mean only that to—to Viasa.”

He gave a laugh with more pain than humor in it. “You can’t even say ‘to
me.
’“

She spread her hands, her body silhouetted against the sky. “Perhaps you want more from me than I know how to give.”

Softly he said, “That works both ways, Khal.”

* * * *

A loud buzzing jarred Jeremiah awake. He opened his eyes into the darkness of his suite. Fumbling on the nightstand by the bed, he switched on the audiocom.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Jeremiah?” Khal’s tense voice came out of the audiocom.

Her urgency pulled him awake. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you read starship trajectory scans?”

Puzzled, he said, “I took some astronomy in college. We covered the basics. But that was years ago.”

“That’s more than any of us have.” She took a breath. “We need you in the observatory tower. Hurry. Please.”

He sat up, reaching for his robe. “What happened?”

“A starship.” Strain crackled in her voice. “It’s out of control and headed for Viasa.”

* * * *

Jeremiah ran through the Estate, surrounded by his escort. When they reached the observatory tower, he raced up the spiral stairs two at a time. They strode into the observatory, a domed room with a telescope run by antique gears. In sharp contrast, the gleaming consoles in the center of the room belonged to the modern computer network Viasa had been incorporating over the past year.

Khal stood at the central console, still in her day clothes, with a cluster of aides. They looked as if they had worked straight through the night. Kev was leaning over the console, studying its screens, his hair and clothes tousled as if he too had just run here from the Calanya. It didn’t surprise Jeremiah to see him; Kev’s mathematical gifts went hand in hand with his Quis expertise. Holographic icons glowed above one screen and data spilled across another. A third projected a holographic trajectory map for a ship already within Coba’s atmosphere.

As Jeremiah came up to them, Khal indicated the trajectory holo. “Can you interpret the map? We’ve never had reason to work with this aspect of the system. “

Jeremiah hesitated, aware of the Outsiders present.

Khal spoke quietly. “Break the Oath. Lives depend on what you know.”

He nodded, then concentrated on the map. Kev moved aside, giving him a better view.

“You’re right,” Jeremiah said. “The ship is headed for Viasa. I don’t think it is out of control, though.” He looked over the console. “Will this respond to my voice?”

“Tell it your name.” Khal spoke into a comm on the console. “Saje, give access to the next voice identifier.” Then she nodded to Jeremiah.

He spoke in the comm. “Jeremiah Coltman.”

Saje, the computer, answered. “Access granted.”

“Give me what you have on the incoming ship,” Jeremiah said. “Use graphics as much as you can.” He had always been better at interpreting images than numerical data.

Holos of graphs and blurred space vessels appeared above several screens. Statistics flowed across others. The longer he studied the jumble of data, the more it baffled him. It was like poorly translated text, but in images instead of words. Saje couldn’t even ID the type of craft coming in, let alone give details. It could be anything from a windrider to a military dreadnought.

Suddenly it hit him. “Saje, you use Allied standards, don’t you?”

“That is correct,” Saje said.

“Can you give me the analysis using Skolian protocols?”

“Working.” The holos reformed—and this time they made sense.

“It’s a Skolian ship,” Jeremiah said. “Civilian, I think.” He glanced at Khal. “It looks like a scout.”

Relief washed across her face. She must have feared the same thing he hoped for, that the ship had come for him. If it were Skolian, though, that wouldn’t be the case. More likely it was off-course for the starport.

“Will it miss Viasa?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He studied the displays. The data was scrolling in Skolian glyphs now, which he couldn’t read, but he understood the holos. Sweat beaded on his temples despite the cool air. “If it doesn’t alter course, it will hit the city.”

Khal exhaled. “Can we contact it?”

“I think so.” He looked around. “Is your audiocom hooked into the computer’s long-range signaler?”

“I don’t know. What does that mean?”

“The signaler can contact the ship,” he said. “When the techs set up your system, they should have linked your audiocom into the signaler or else installed a long range comm. Did they discuss it with you?”

“Not really. We had no need for it. This computer system does Estate management, not starship landing.” She regarded him. “Can you set it up?”

“I don’t know how. But the computer might.” He leaned over the console. “Saje, can you talk to the incoming ship?”

“At the moment, no,” it answered. “However, you are right that I may be able to link the audiocom into my signaler. I need details on the audiocom technology.”

Khal spoke. “Look in the files on the Estate electrical systems under ‘intranet connections.’“

“Working,” Saje said.

Jeremiah studied the holos rotating above the console. “The ship has slowed some, but it’s still coming in too fast. If it hits Viasa, it could cause a lot of damage.”

“We’re already evacuating, into the east canyon.” Khal turned to Kev. “You better go too. My aides can take you.”

He shook his head. “I’m staying.”

She stiffened, her dismay at hearing his voice obvious. “You must go with them, Kev. You might be hurt if you stay.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” he told her.

“You mustn’t endanger yourself.” She lifted her arm and he started to move, as if to take her hand. Then they stopped, obviously aware of the people watching them. Khal lowered her arm and Kev took a breath.

Jeremiah stood at the console, awkward and self-conscious. He felt like an interloper. Seeing Khal and Kev together, so alike in background, outlook, and power within their separate spheres of accomplishment, he knew they were the two halves of Viasa. They shared a closeness he would never have with Khal, not if he spent his entire life here and Kev left tomorrow.

Static suddenly erupted from the comm, accompanied by a man speaking Skolian Flag, “—read me? I repeat, I’m receiving your signal. Please respond.”

For an instant Jeremiah’s mind blanked. Although he understood some Skolian Flag, he spoke almost none, and for the past four years he had heard only Teotecan.

Then bits of his meager Skolian vocabulary came back. He leaned over the comm. “Know English you? Spanish? French?”

The pilot switched into heavily accented Spanish. “This is Dalstern GH3, scout class II. Viasa, I need holomaps. These mountains are much trouble. The wind make problem also.”

“Can you link your computers to our system here?” Jeremiah asked in Spanish. “We will help guide you down.”

“I try.” He paused. “Do you receive?”

Saje spoke in Teotecan. “His system uses ISC standard ninety-two. I can only process some of its input.”

Khal looked at Jeremiah. “What does that mean?”

He raked his hand through his curls. “Your system was never set up for this. It does have a lot of what we need, but most of it uses Allied standards. Saje is having trouble with the form of the incoming data.”

“Can you tell it the right form?” she asked.

He spread his hands. “It’s like trying to translate one language to another, on the spur of the moment, when I don’t speak one that well and can’t say anything in the other.”

“What about the pilot’s computers?”

Jeremiah spoke into comm. “Dalstern, can you send your data in an Allied protocol?”

“Which one?” the pilot asked.

“Saje, help him figure it out.”

“Working,” Saje said.

The pilot paused. “Viasa, your data is incomplete.”

“What’s missing?” Jeremiah asked.

The pilot listed acronyms, none of which Jeremiah knew. When he paused, Jeremiah said, “Saje, do you understand that?”

“Enough to know I’m missing some important files.”

“Viasa,” the pilot said, “we are maybe close to what we need. Can you send the equations that transform the coordinate system in your primary nav module to the system we use?”

Jeremiah hesitated. “Can you do that, Saje?”

“It requires software I don’t have.”

“It can’t be that hard to figure out.

“Whether it is hard or easy is irrelevant,” Saje said. “I don’t know what transform to apply. If I use the wrong one, it could do more harm than good.”

“Can’t you run comparisons with the Dalstern?”

“We are trying. But we have incompatibilities. It hampers the procedure.”

Khal regarded Jeremiah, her face pale. “Can you tell it the right transform?”

He shook his head. “I’m no astronavigator.”

“You said you studied it in school.”

“I hardly even remember the Allied protocols, let alone Skolian. And I’ve never been that great at math.”

Kev spoke. “Use Quis.”

Jeremiah jerked, as startled as everyone else. It was one thing for an off-world First Level to break his Oath; another to hear one of the leading Calani among the Twelve Estates do it, not once, but several times.

“You know more than you think,” Kev told him. “You wouldn’t do so well at Quis otherwise. Use the dice. Use the patterns in your mind.”

Jeremiah had no idea if it would work, but he had nothing better to offer. Taking a breath, he tried to calm his mind into the meditative state that often came when he played Quis. He let the few formulas he remembered rise in his mind.

Make them dice,
he thought.

He sat at the console and rolled out his dice on a flat screen. In the Calanya, they used Quis to study political, cultural, historical, and social relationships; now he used it to do mathematics. He chose different pieces for different symbols, then “wrote” equations by making Quis structures.

The comm crackled with the pilot’s voice. “Viasa, where is beacon to guide aircraft in these mountains?”

Jerked out of his concentration, Jeremiah knocked over a structure. Dice flew across the console.

“Ah, no.” Trying to relax, he gathered up the pieces and started again.

Khal spoke to the pilot in broken Spanish. “Say again?”

“The warning beacon,” he said. “Where is it?”

“Broken,” Khal told Mm. She glanced at Jeremiah, her question obvious:
How does he know we have a beacon?

“It’s probably in a Skolian file on Coba,” Jeremiah said. “Or his scanners might have found something.” When she indicated the comm, he spoke into it. “Dalstern, we have holomaps for you, but we have a mismatch in protocols. We are working on it. Please stand by.”

“Understood,” the pilot sad.

Concentrating on his dice, Jeremiah incorporated the rules of mathematics into the rules of Quis. He was trying to derive equations with Quis. He discovered the math was easier when he thought in terms of dice structures.

Suddenly a concept snapped into place. Yes! He saw how the Skolian and Allied methods for describing spatial and temporal behavior related.

As Jeremiah gave his results to Saje, he glanced at the evolving holomap that showed the ship’s progress. He could only imagine what it must be like to hurtle through the jagged Teotecs with neither maps nor a beacon. The ship obviously had sensing equipment or it wouldn’t have made it this far. But it was designed for space rather than planetary maneuvers, and the savage winds in the upper Teotecs would tear a less sturdy craft apart. The ship had slowed more, but it was still coming in too fast.

“Viasa, I need maps,” the pilot said.

“I’m sending what I have.” Jeremiah prayed he had derived the right transform; otherwise, he could be sending the pilot to his death.

“Received,” the pilot said.

Khal spoke. “Jeremiah, what can we do to help?”

“Guidance.” He studied the holomap. “He’s about one span north and two spans above Grayrock Falls. What’s the dearest passage through there?”

“He must avoid the Heska Cliffs,” Khal said. “He should go higher, one span, and to the east one third.”

Jeremiah told Saje. Then he asked, “Dalstern, did that come through?”

“Part of it,” the pilot answered. “I pull up.”

Watching the holomap, Jeremiah spoke to Khal. “He’s up about half a span. Will he make it over the cliffs?”

“He must go higher,” she said. “If he can’t, he should go east two spans. A small pass is there.”

Jeremiah input the data and watched the holomap change. “That looks good—ah,
no!
”

The map fragmented. In that same instant, the pilot said, “Viasa, we have problem.”

“We too,” Jeremiah said. “Saje, what happened?”

“You only gave me a partial transform,” Saje said.

Jeremiah swore under his breath. What had he missed? Struggling to focus his mind, he turned back to his dice. But his mind kept coming up with images of the ship hurtling toward them, breaking his concentration.

“Viasa, I need set-down coordinates,” the pilot said.

“We’re working on it.” Jeremiah glanced at Khal. “Where should he land?”

“West of Viasa. Away from the evacuation.”

Jeremiah stared at her. “The west is sheer cliff face.” He was painfully aware of time passing. If he couldn’t solve the transform problem, the pilot would have little control over where he landed—or crashed.