Chapter 7: Hide and Seek

"How are you feeling this morning, sir?"

Rand hesitated before opening his eyes. He braced himself as his body remembered pain. It didn't come, and he finally let himself relax.

"Pretty good." He smiled up at the wrinkled face of Nurse Third Class Imrud. The little man was incredibly old for a space hand, with a lurid store of even more ancient jokes. Rand hadn't particularly liked him, the few times they'd talked, but right now any human contact was welcome. He wondered idly just how someone so old could withstand the strain of multiple jumps. "I don't hurt. Not at all!"

"You shouldn't. You wouldn't, at all, if you hadn't of thrashed around some while you was out. Let me look at your chest."

The withered fingers were cold, scratchy against his skin. They deftly traced the faint lines of pinkish scar tissue where his body had been opened. A larger splotch of pink skin, the puckered ridges already fading, showed where the Kreert knife had smashed through his rib cage.

"Pretty good, for only a few hours outa surgery. Here, let me prop you up." He touched a button. The bed changed shape, lifting Rand to a comfortable sitting position. "There you are. You need anything else, just push the buzzer."

Rand hardly noticed when Imrud left. His head was clear, for the first time in what seemed like ages. He reached out, tentatively, for the mind of Skryben. The contact was faint, but it was there.

'... what's been happening?... '

'... (your repair)... , ' Rand grinned wryly at the image Skryben presented. A damaged module, sent in for rebuilding. '... (successful, so far)... '

'... Vortigen ships?... '

'... (none, as yet. Still maneuvering, still following course three Alpha)... '

The diagram of their course hung in his mind, seeming to almost fill the tiny room. On it, a spark of green showed Skryben's position, some two thirds of the way along the convoluted pattern.

'... next jump?... '

'... one hour, seven minutes and twenty five seconds from... Mark!... '

Closing his eyes, Rand looked out past Skryben's hull, savoring the expanses of scattered stars. Already, in one direction, they seemed thinner, giving way to the empty space between clusters. As always, the comforting vista of Mother Galaxy formed a near solid backdrop to his vision. From somewhere within Her all embracing arms, Humanity had fled to the Imperial Cluster. The cluster had taken them in, refugees from some long forgotten enemy, finally making them a part of its civilization.

They had been few, at first. Perhaps only one ship, more likely two or three. The legends weren't clear about a lot of things. Great, slow moving shells, powered for less than a thousandth of a standard gravity through normal space. Their primitive engines had built energy for their jumps at an incredibly slow rate. Not more than one short jump every tenth day, according to the legends.

Historical romances had used the semi mythical setting thousands of times. The banked rows of colonists, frozen into stasis, tended by generation after generation of crew. Decade followed slow decade, while they had left the plane of Mother Galaxy behind, and before them the stars grew thin. No records remained to tell why they had fled the warmth of Mother Galaxy, fleeing where none might follow. Finally, there was nothing between them and the eternal dark but a scattering of star clusters. One, somewhat larger than the rest, and with stars that promised habitable planets, had been chosen as their goal after several smaller clusters had proved barren.

Over the long years, the chosen cluster had grown in their forward screens. The ship, or ships, under the command of the legendary First Captains, had searched for signs of planets.

Planets had indeed been found, a few of them, but at first, none to suit their needs. Small planets, with weak gravity, and air too thin and water too scarce for comfort. Large worlds, whose air was too thick and rich, and whose surface was more than nine tenths covered by seas, so that dry land could only be found in the form of a few scattered islands.

Finally, deep within the globular cluster, a suitable planet had been chosen. It had a somewhat lighter gravity than their home world, but a heavier atmosphere. It also had a smaller percentage of dry land, but it was by far the best they had found. They had called the planet 'Refuge'. It was the third planet of the sun they'd named 'Hope'. The ship, or ships, had been placed in permanent orbit about the planet, people and property had been sent down in shuttles, and the long process of colonization had begun.

In that long, slow process of populating a world, much had been lost, including most of their history, and the greater part of the scientific knowledge they had brought with them. The shuttles had been cannibalized for metals, after contact with the colony ships had been lost. No one knew just how long those dark ages had been. When once again men and women had ventured out into space, the remains of the colony ships had been twisted wreckage, and the explorers were greatly changed from the first settlers who had been their ancestors.

War had been forgotten, along with many of the old hatreds that had divided man from man. Refuge, shown on star charts as Hope III, had not been an easy planet to tame. There had been fierce storms, predators, and poisonous plants. It was a world where no man could prosper without the aid of his neighbors.

Enough had remained of the colony ships for them to puzzle out how to build interstellar craft. Mankind had spread out among the stars of the cluster, finding many planets inhabited by civilizations as high as, or higher than, their own. None, however, had achieved space flight. Most of the races they had found were aquatic, living on planets whose surfaces were almost entirely covered by boundless oceans, and the few worlds which had a significant percentage of dry land were small, with weak gravities which left their races too fragile for the dangers and the stresses of interplanetary or interstellar flight. Then, too, smaller planets seldom had enough heavy elements in their crusts to support a technological civilization.

Men had become the asteroid miners, the traders, the messengers of the cluster. And, when necessary, the police. For lack of any competition, they had eventually become the government. Now, they were the rulers and defenders of the Imperial Cluster...

Without realizing it, Rand had fallen into a light doze. When he woke, Berniss was smiling down at him.

"You're looking fine," she told him, bending over him to touch his forehead.

"And you're as beautiful as always," he replied, reaching for her hand. "If I'm so fine, why am I still in bed?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask that." Her soft laugh seemed to light her features from within. She moved back as his bed brought him to a sitting position. "Now, take it easy. You aren't as completely well as all that."

"I'm feeling better by the minute..." In his mind, he heard Skryben counting down for their next jump: '... six minutes and ten seconds from... Mark!... ' "When can I get up?"

"Soon, now, but you'll have to take it easy. Nothing too strenuous," she cautioned.

"I know." He touched his chest with his right hand, and flexed the muscles of his left arm. "I'm hardly even sore, just a little weak."

"That's only because you were in bed for three days before your operation. Your strength will return quickly, once you're up and around."

'... thirty seconds from... Mark!... '

The jump, when it came, was almost unnoticeable. In his mind, he could see the dial of the power gauge drop to zero, and start to build for their next jump. There was no nausea, no disorientation.

"I'm feeling better, all right," he commented, sitting up straighter. "I hardly felt that, at all."

"You're not that much better," she retorted, extending a restraining hand. "This room is shielded, is all."

"What do you mean, shielded?"

"Do you know what a Faraday cage is?"

"Of course, we studied ancient science at the Academy. Oh, you mean... ?"

"Well, not exactly. The shielding is of a much higher order than just a simple wire mesh, but the effect is the same. The jump shock is smoothed out, and doesn't hit as hard."

"Then, why can't it be used for the whole ship? Or, at least, the bridge?"

"You'll have to ask Skryben about that, or one of the scientific staff at Fleet Base. I would guess, though, that it has something to do with distorted energy flows. I've been told that it throws off the jump calculations, and is also painful for the ship. Only one small compartment can be shielded, even on the larger ships."

"But..."

"You aren't to worry about it, right now. As your doctor, I prescribe four more hours of rest. After that, we'll try getting you out of bed."

She slipped away from his half hearted grasp, and he realized that he was too tired to worry about it, or about anything else, right now. Later, though...

Around him, Skryben whispered and sang to herself in the darkness. She jumped, and the stars changed, ever so slightly. A star that had hung off her port bow now glowed a dim red almost dead astern. Ahead, stars clustered, a denser grouping than most. With each jump, they showed up more clearly. Most of them were the usual dull red, shading on down through infra. First generation stars, too old and too far down on the main sequence to have habitable planets. They were a good many light years off, as yet. Too far away to worry about. Skryben would change her course slightly, passing to Hubward of the thickest part.

"All right, sir. Up on your feet."

Rand swung his feet over the side of the bed. The gray haired woman, her badge gave her name as Nurse Third Class Stit Ayx, bent to help him on with a pair of light slippers. The air in this section of Skryben was warm, and he hardly noticed as the gown he wore gaped open in the back. Still hardly believing that there was no pain, he carefully straightened up.

"That's the way. Steady, now. Lean on me until you get your balance." Strong and steady, her arm was thin, but firmly muscled under his hand. She was quite a bit taller than he was, as though from a light gravity world. "Now, let's see how well you can walk."

The floor was fairly steady under his feet. He noticed that his breathing was easy, and his new heart was beating steadily, its thumping strong and regular. His hand lightly touching the nurse's arm, he walked to the door.

"You can walk a little farther, if you feel up to it."

A few meters down the corridor, and back. By the time he returned to the side of his bed, he was quite willing to sit back down, hardly noticing as she left the room.

"Tired?" He looked up to see Berniss standing in the doorway, carrying a covered tray.

"Some. I'm also hungry."

"You're getting better, all right. Now, back to bed with you, and I'll let you have some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" He read the time from Skryben. "It's the middle of the afternoon. Only an hour until the end of second shift."

"It all depends on what your schedule is. Anyway, what you need right now is breakfast."

"I never turn down a meal," he joked. He uncovered the plates eagerly, though breakfast had never been his favorite meal. The portions, small and bland as they were, left him with a feeling of comfortable fullness. "That was good. Now, when can I go back on duty?"

"Rest a while, then take some more light exercise. Then, another sleep period, and you'll be released for duty. If you're up to it, that can be at the start of second shift, tomorrow."

Three eight hour shifts in a day. That was one of the few heritages of their past that had come down through the centuries unchanged. All of the planets that humans lived on, with all of their different length days, had kept this one thing constant. Anywhere in the Cluster, you knew that the official clocks on all of the other worlds, all of the ships in space, read the same. Midnight to 8:00 AM, 8:00 to 4:00 PM, and 4:00 to midnight, no matter where the sun stood in the local sky. He'd heard rumors, from time to time, of attempts to change over to a thirty hour clock, but it had never seemed worth the effort.

He hardly noticed it when Berniss took away the tray, dropping off into an easy doze. When he awoke, second shift was over, and he felt hungry again. He pressed the buzzer, and in a few moments Nurse Imrud peered in at him.

"Hungry? Sure, I'll get you something. Be right back."

The little nurse was back in seconds with a heavily loaded tray, and Rand wondered why he'd ever disliked the old man.

"Here, you can even get up and sit in a chair to eat, if you want."

"Sounds good to me." Rand got up, sliding a pair of hospital slippers onto his feet, and sat in the comfortable chair next to his bed.

"Call me when you're through," Imrud told him, after clamping the tray to an arm of his chair, "or if you need help with anything."

"I sure will. How about visitors? Anyone been by to see me?"

"Your pretty little pilot, for instance? No, afraid not. Anyhow, why should they? You'll be up and around in a few more hours, and you can go see them."

"Yeah, I guess so." Rand poked at the food on his tray, then attacked it with greater interest as the first couple of bites stimulated his appetite. He'd really thought that Tasca would have dropped by, but he remembered the uneasy way she'd avoided looking at his console when his disembodied presence had been centered on the control room.

Not bothering to call Imrud, he swung the tray to one side and stood up. Fine! No more than just a trace of dizziness, and no real weakness. Holding onto the back of the chair, just in case, he took a couple of steps. Still, just fine. Smiling, pleased at his progress, he sat back down on the edge of his bed and pressed the call button.