Chapter 6: Flight

It was a strange sensation, Rand decided. Extremely strange. His old body was very far away, and very, very small, hidden somewhere deep within this larger, stronger body. His mind was quite clear and calm, his recall sharp, but the memory of pain was like someone else's dream. Once again, his thoughts were mingled with the images and data streams of Skryben. He was floating in space, surrounded by skeins of stars, but this time there was no easy awakening.

'... that's because you're not asleep... , ' a gentle thought intruded into his reverie.

'... of course I'm asleep. I'm not awake!... '

'... no, but you're not asleep, either... '

'... not asleep. Not awake... ' He puzzled at the two contradictory thoughts for a moment. He would have been worried, if worry had been allowed. '... where does that leave me, dead?... '

'... no, Rand... ' He heard again her soft, entrancing chuckle, almost felt the moth like brush of lips against his cheek. '... not dead, either. Your body is being repaired, so you can't use it for a while, but you have to be awake. Skryben needs your help. We all need your help... '

'... Berniss?... ' He tried to look for her, since her mind was so intimately close. One eye opened, looking out on a deserted stretch of corridor, the lights dimmed for the between shifts rest period. He closed it, opened the other eye somewhere else. Skryben's engine room, the great drive engines throbbing with power, with crew members tending to their needs. He was getting the hang of it, he thought to himself, and his third try gave him better results. He was looking up this time, up out of the console on her desk. Her eyes widened as his image took on shadowy form, deep within the screen. '... need my help? What for? What happened to me?... '

Even as he asked, Skryben's memory banks gave him the answers he sought. On one track, memories of the days since they had fled from Ly'Ath. Fast couriers had burst out from the despised base on Ly'Ath's moon, streaking off in a half dozen directions to give the alarm. Skryben had fled, trying to lose herself in the trackless wastes of the Vortigen Drift. She was striving to make her way back to the Imperial Cluster, hoping to avoid the massed fleets of the Vortigen.

On another memory track, he saw his inert body being carried back aboard Skryben, a cone handled throwing knife imbedded in his chest. A white faced Berniss had taken charge, hurrying him into sick bay. Life support machines had taken over the tasks of pumping blood and breathing for him, while his metabolism had been reduced to the allowable minimum.

'... why didn't you put me into stasis?... '

'... we didn't want to do that... ' She smiled down at her console. '... I did think that I might have to, but I knew that we would need you. The facilities here aren't really up to cloning you a new heart and lung, but Skryben thinks that we can do something just as good. Take a look at compartment 23 J, and you'll see what I mean... '

It was like using a split screen on a console. He was looking at Berniss, enjoying the harmony of her long fall of hair and almond eyes. He was also looking into a brightly lighted compartment, where remote handling devices were rebuilding and caring for a complex bank of equipment. He recognized the area; it was where the metallo organic probes had been seeded for Ly'Ath's investigation. But this was no probe that was being grown here. One of the golden objects in the tank of nutrient fluids was already pulsing with a steady beat, and the other was expanding and contracting spasmodically.

'... oh, no!... ' The image of his head shook violently from side to side. '... you're not going to cybe me!... '

'... it's either that, or stasis, and we need you alive and healthy... '

'... but... but, machine parts? It's against the Ursudine Creed!... '

'... to the Rim Hells with the Ursudine Creed! Skryben needs you alive, and needs you now. You can replace the metallo organic parts with cloned grafts after we get back to Fleet Headquarters. Mother Galaxy can surely accept this, as long as you can. And I can't keep you on the heart lung machine for too much longer without danger of complications. Too many jumps, too close together, would finish your body off, the condition it's in. I'd have to put you in stasis, and without you, we have a lot slimmer chance of making it back alive... ' Her expression softened, losing its fierceness. '... we all need you. All of you, not just your image on a screen... '

'... Yeah, I need you, too. At least, I feel like I should. Hey, how come I'm able to talk to you? Aren't I unconscious?... '

'... not really. You're nerve blocked, but not really out. Without conscious contact with your body, it's that much easier for you to interact with Skryben... '

'... it's easy, all right. Uh oh! Almost time for another jump. Why're we headed that way?... ' He paused, searching his memory banks. Skryben's memory banks. '... oh. Too many Vortigen ships could be waiting the other way. They haven't spotted us yet, but it's almost sure to happen sooner or later. The longer it takes, the more of them there'll be, hanging around to chase after us. One of their scouts is bound to come across our tracks before long. Yeah, I'll be more help to us when I'm up and running around. All right, go ahead with the spare parts. How soon will they be ready?... '

'... a few more hours. I'll wait until after this next jump, or maybe the one after that... ' She smiled reassuringly, but he could feel her nervousness. This wasn't just another patient!

'... you'll do just fine. Now then, I'd better shift up to the bridge and give them a hand... '

'... Go ahead... ' She gave him a troubled smile.'... just don't... Don't let on just how easy it is for you to link with Skryben. Captain Jeryth... '

'... you mean, he likes to think that he's the only one who can do that?... '

'... something like that. He's been... , well, strange, the last few weeks. Ever since that terrible long chase by the Vortigen ships. All those jumps, so close together. I think they maybe... , maybe did something to him... '

'... yeah, he did take them kind of hard. I figured that it was just that he didn't like having to run from the Vortigen. All right, I'll keep it to myself... ' He gave her the mental equivalent of a smile, knowing that it was a pale imitation of the real thing.

It was just like closing one eye, and opening another, now that he was used to it. He was on the bridge, looking down at the navigator's console. As he watched, a light on the console glowed green as Skryben acknowledged his presence.

"Third Officer Korsun?" Captain Jeryth turned toward his console, speaking louder than his usual calm voice. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Captain." The words seemed to form out of the air, and he saw Pilot Tasca glance his way. "I'm here."

"Good. We've managed to avoid the Vortigen scout ships, so far, but they'll be getting thicker as we move to anti spinward, toward the Cluster side of the Drift. Once they spot us, they'll be able to close up and cut us off. I want you to plot us a course that's as safe as possible."

Rand couldn't remember seeing Captain Jeryth look nervous, before. He'd always been their tower of strength, the calm at the center of the storm. Now, his movements were just the slightest touch jerky, his voice revealing a faint tinge of emotion that hadn't been there before. It wasn't fear, Rand was sure of that. Anger? Impatience? Perhaps.

In Skryben's mind, he saw their zigzag course over the past several days, seeming to move at random, but drawing ever closer to the emptiness between the rival star clusters. He called up the most probable dispositions of enemy ships, studying the probabilities of being detected and intercepted.

Drawing up a half dozen courses that looked more or less safe, he displayed them on a side screen.

"These are the best I can do, for now," he reported.

"Which one would you choose?"

"Probably, course three Alpha." He high lighted one. "It stays well away from systems that have a high probability of being inhabited, and brings us out of the Drift sooner than the others."

"Very well. Pilot Tasca? You will follow course three Alpha. Jump in seventeen minutes from... Mark. Jump interval will be two hours and fifteen minutes. Korsun, you will recheck navigation records for the period since you were injured."

Checking the logged figures against instrument records only took him moments, though it was the kind of problem that would have taken hours, back at the Academy. He realized, as never before, just how much power was available to his mind through its link with Skryben.

His task completed, he closed his eyes. He quickly opened them again. Without a point of view, he felt disoriented, as though his mind was floating in nothingness. He took a quick glance at the sick bay compartment where his body lay. That wasn't what he needed! No good purpose would be served by dwelling on the damage that he'd suffered. He ranged through Skryben's corridors, his attention flicking over crew members working, playing, resting. Most of the damage to Skryben had been repaired, only an occasional node of darkness showing where her metallo organic tissues had resisted regrowth, leaving nuggets of impure metal imbedded in her flesh. None of the damage was where it would impair her fighting ability, and it could be taken care of when she returned to Fleet Headquarters.

No, what worried him wasn't Skryben's condition. He didn't know, at first, just what was wrong. Something about the crew, and the way they huddled together, whispering...

"... Whaddya mean, lost his nerve?" He identified the whispered voice as one of the mess attendants, Neb Fishior, whose skinny height was belied by his voracious appetite. "He's always got us outa tight spots before..."

"... Naw, I guess his nerve's all right." His companion was a petite brunette. After a moment's thought, he recognized her as one of Skryben's Medic artificers, Adem Xeren. They were an odd looking pair, he thought. Neb, startlingly tall and bony, Adem short and curvaceous. "He just don't seem to have his mind on things, is all. Seems to be thinking about something else, and the creepy way he looks at me..."