Right now, he couldn’t see much except the stillness. He found himself thinking of Com’peer, the Narseil surgeon, quoting from the book of Psalms. How had one of them gone? He leads me beside the still waters… Yes, Legroeder thought. Still waters, indeed.
An unfamiliar inner voice offered a comment:
// The quote refers to “safe” waters, actually. Are these waters safe? //
(I doubt that,) Legroeder muttered. (Who are you? Do I know you?)
// I am an analytical subroutine. My exegetical database includes many of the known galaxy’s religions. //
(Oh. Well, what do you analyze about this place?)
// Difficult to know… // said the implant.
(Yah.)
// But I am working on it. //
As are we all, Legroeder thought. But perhaps the implant was right about one thing: it would be very helpful to keep in mind an image of these waters as safe—particularly since the net was far more sensitive now to fear or anxiety. But they were also looking for evidence of any opening in the underflux, any opening through which a ship might pass into a hidden fold—a ship such as Impris. Or Phoenix. Legroeder wondered where their escort ships were by now. They had been unable to make contact; and though Phoenix had transmitted their intentions, they had no way of knowing if the escort had received the message.
Legroeder watched his crew watching the Flux. While commanding the rigger crew, Legroeder occupied his customary stern position, with Palagren at the bow and Ker’sell at top gun. Deutsch, at the keel, seemed intent on something. Freem’n. What are you picking up?
Deutsch didn’t answer at once. He seemed to be processing through his augments. Finally: Nothing that I can describe clearly. For a moment, I thought I’d sensed some ghost traces… I don’t know of what. Like shadows. Maybe echoes from the underflux. Not clear. Deutsch fell back into silence, but he seemed more emotionally connected to the imagery than usual.
Legroeder, for his part, felt a strange, listless foreboding, as if he were floating under a tropical sun, awaiting the arrival of some vaguely defined enemy. So far, though, he’d seen nothing; he found it hard even to focus on the features of the Flux. The ship was drifting sideways, very slowly. The only visible features on the sea were the fog banks, and if you watched them carefully you could see that they too were shifting with dreamy slowness, as if stirred by convection currents rising from the still surface of the water.
Turning to watch Palagren and Ker’sell, he noted their unstirring poses. He did not interrupt them; they were stretching out through the tessa’chron, probing as far into the future as their senses would allow, seeking any whorls or eddies in the flow of time, anything that might suggest the presence of a change or a flaw in the local fabric of spacetime. So far, they’d seen nothing suggestive of the entry point they were looking for. The net sang like a charged high-tension wire as Palagren came to and peered back at Legroeder.
I’d like to retune further, Palagren said. I think we need more sensitivity.
Legroeder frowned. The net was already a roomful of suppressed emotions waiting to erupt. With increased output from the flux reactor, they would shift even further into an experimental operating regime. He wasn’t sure how much more he wanted to experiment. Cantha? Agamem? he called to the bridge. Are you picking up anything useful?
From the bridge, the two Narseil replied in the negative. No movement visible, Cantha said. Not much energy gradient of any kind.
If they wanted to be able to maneuver, they had to do better. Legroeder glanced at the ethereal vision of Palagren, waiting at the front of the net for an answer, then called to Deutsch. Freem’n, will it interrupt your AI scans if we increase the sensitivity further?
I don’t think so.
Was that a trace of nervousness in Deutsch’s voice? Well, they were all nervous. All right, Palagren, let’s go ahead.
Commencing now, replied the Narseil.
Legroeder felt a momentary tingle, followed by a heightened awareness of… what? His heartbeat, pulsing in his ears? Light and shadow, boredom and fear?
It seemed to fluctuate through a variety of responses, as Palagren made cautious adjustments—backing off here, enhancing there. Legroeder’s implants flickered, joining in a circle with the others’, as Palagren gauged the new settings. Legroeder became aware of a smell of the sea that he hadn’t noticed before, of brine and seaweed. Everyone okay with this? he asked softly.
As the others agreed, he disengaged his augments from the circle. The others could use their augments for flying, but he was going to stick with his human senses. Begin cycling the images.
The plan was to try a variety of image types, in hopes of revealing patterns or movement beneath the surface. If the patterns were there, they might well manifest as different images for different individuals.
The first was an undersea vision: a clear and still place, with sunlight slanting down through the water as far as the eye could see. Far off, Legroeder saw floating tufts of seaweed and detritus—perhaps areas of altered density, or mass concentrations in nearby normal-space.
Legroeder was surprised to feel a profound sadness welling up in him for no apparent reason, a feeling of indescribable loss. His thoughts flickered to Tracy-Ace, and he felt himself on the verge of tears. Would he ever see her again? Had she deceived him to get him on this mission? Was he on a fool’s errand? No… he remembered the intimacy of their joining, and refused to believe that it was false.
He drew a sharp breath, startled by the power of the emotion. Good Lord. Glancing around, he realized that everyone in the net seemed preoccupied. Palagren appeared wistful and distracted; Deutsch was concentrating fiercely on the Flux beneath him. Only Ker’sell showed any awareness of Legroeder, and he was staring down at the human with apparent suspicion. Legroeder looked away, hoping he had not let actual images of Tracy-Ace into the net.
Focus outward, he thought. We’re here to fly, not gaze at our navels.
The silence was interrupted by: This is Cantha. Nothing visible on instruments out here.
Nothing here, Deutsch said.
Nothing, said Legroeder.
Ker’sell didn’t answer.
Palagren changed the image again.
The crystal clarity of the seascape closed in, and Phoenix was transformed to an aircraft flying straight and level through solid cloud; the forward motion, of course, was purely an illusion. Legroeder felt his feelings changing with the image. At first he was oppressed by the clouds, but that gave way to a sense of freedom and exhilaration. Not everyone in the net shared the feeling, however. Palagren was focused deeply, as though pondering a mystery. Deutsch’s mood was inscrutable. Ker’sell was snapping his gaze around with angry energy.