Far down… toward another layer… toward a network of moving shadows. It was like gazing into the depths of a fast-running river, and imagining falling in…
He drew back with a shudder, blinking.
“What is it?” Tracy-Ace asked.
“I don’t—Jesus—these people are reaching all the way down—” He swallowed.
Tracy-Ace cocked her head. “Down to what?”
“Down to the Deep Flux,” Legroeder whispered. “Why are they doing that? It’s… it’s…” He shook his head; it felt full of cobwebs.
“What did you see? Where?” Tracy-Ace demanded.
He breathed deeply, pointing vaguely into the room. “It’s there—in the patterns on the walls—” He gulped for air; he was trembling, as though he’d made an emergency scram from a net. “I saw… currents down there—deep—dangerous—”
Tracy-Ace gazed at him, her face flickering. “I would not have expected you to be able to see that,” she murmured. “Even the maintainers barely see it. We’re not in the Deep Flux. They monitor its location, to make sure we don’t drift down there.”
He gulped, only faintly relieved.
“They know the area very well,” the tech said. “They spend a lot of their lives keeping watch on it.”
“Good,” Legroeder breathed. “What do they do when they’re not watching that?”
The tech shrugged. “Living in whatever worlds they make for themselves out there, I suppose.”
“That’s their existence?”
“They’re all volunteers,” Tracy-Ace said, with an aggressive edge to her voice.
Legroeder gazed at her, trying to conceal his doubt.
The tech said in a more severe voice, “They have their reasons. Some of them are just drawn to it. Some have… severe physical handicaps. This gives them a way to serve.”
“But to spend their lives…”
Tracy-Ace’s eyes narrowed. “It’s just another reality. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
“There’s a reality to it, yes. But—” Legroeder shook his head. To spend their lives in it?
“Without them,” Tracy-Ace said stiffly, “the station would be adrift in the Flux. This is a duty—and an honor—that they have chosen.”
Legroeder didn’t answer. If you weren’t an outlaw outpost that had to hide in the Flux, it wouldn’t be necessary, would it? But he knew he’d already said too much.
Tracy-Ace seemed to guess his thoughts. She spoke briefly to the tech, then turned and ushered Legroeder out.
In the corridor, with the cortical stimulation and the last security checkpoint behind him, Legroeder felt as if a blessed silence had descended around him. He felt his nervous system slowly coming down from whatever state it had been in.
Tracy-Ace was clearly experiencing some of the same effect. But she recovered quickly enough to say sharply, as they walked away, “You didn’t approve of that, I take it.”
Legroeder opened his mouth, and shut it. He wondered why she had even shown that to him.
“What I said was true, you know—about the maintainers being honored volunteers. It would hardly be in our interest to put unwilling draftees in the position of maintaining our station in the Flux.”
He kept silent.
“They do lead interesting lives, you know, while they…” She hesitated.
“While they what?” Legroeder blurted. “Live?”
Her hesitation stretched a moment longer. “Yes.”
He thought of how much it took out of him to stay in the Flux for an extended period, and he wondered how well the human mind and body could hold up to that kind of immersion. “How long do they live?” he asked, trying to sound merely curious, and knowing that he failed.
Tracy-Ace picked up her pace, avoiding his gaze. He thought she was going to avoid the question, as well. Then she said softly, “On average? About ten years, on the job.”
Ten years. “And… how long after they retire?”
Another hesitation. “They don’t usually retire… exactly.”
“You mean, they die on the job?”
When Tracy-Ace didn’t reply, he glanced sideways at her. Her temples were flickering, and she was scowling. It was a moment before he realized that she was nodding.
Oh.
She turned on him suddenly, her eyes flaring, but not from the glow of augments. Was she angry? He thought she was angry. “You think we’re so heartless. Come with me.” She grabbed his wrist and changed direction, down a side corridor. He practically had to run to keep up. There was surprising strength in those slender arms.
Was that a connection he felt between their implants? He focused inward. (Are you connected to her?)
// No. //
Then what the—? Her surge of anger, or passion, was so powerful he could have sworn it was a direct link. But no, it was just raw human emotion. She was boiling over with a need to do something and do it now, a burning that was working its way out from within. Was it always there, but under tighter control? Whatever it was she was burning to do, it was important and dangerous—and it involved him. Was this where Tracy-Ace the Law was going to reappear?
He swallowed back his apprehension. “Where, uh… can I ask where we’re going?”
She didn’t look at him, but her fingers tightened around his wrist. “Flicker-tube,” was all she said. Grimly.
Chapter 24
Joinings
Fre’geel paused in his round of the detention cell area and peered out through the gate. Nothing, no sign even of the guards. He resumed his tireless walk among the crew. Most sat on the floor, or on benches, muttering to themselves or each other. Fre’geel gave an occasional hiss of encouragement as he passed among them. They needed it, especially those who did not understand what their human shipmate was trying to do, under the guise of betraying the Narseil.
Soon it would be time for another exercise period. Fre’geel intended to make sure they kept moving and active. It was the best he could do. It had been too long since any of them had had a proper soak in a pool. They were all drying out, and he was seeing far too much rubbing at sore and itchy skin, and scratching at neck-sails. He’d asked the Kyber guards, politely, if something could be done. The guard had laughed—a particularly ugly human laugh—and sauntered away. It had occurred to Fre’geel afterward that perhaps he should have asked to speak to a superior. He was not thinking all that clearly himself.
Cantha drifted his way, and they paused to confer. “I am told that the crew in the next compartment are becoming agitated,” Cantha murmured. “Some of them are blaming Legroeder for turning us in, and they’re beginning to vent their anger.”
Fre’geel blinked his gritty eyes. Were his people forgetting their training? “We all knew it could happen this way,” he sighed, as much to himself as to Cantha. It would only get worse if he didn’t find a way to control it. “Perhaps the guards will permit me to go in and speak to them.”
As he turned toward the security door, he was surprised to see it opening. Two Kyber guards stepped into the detention cell. “Where is the commander?” one of the guards called, in a barely comprehensible Kyber Anglic.
Fre’geel went forward. “I’m the commander.”
“Someone to see you,” said the guard. He motioned to Fre’geel to follow him out of the room.