Ascending - James Alan Gardner [29]
7
WHEREIN I AM OFFERED A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
You Would Not Think Annoying Persons Could Find You In Outer Space, But You Would Be Wrong
Here is a fact about space travel: it is very very boring. I greatly enjoyed the excitement of escaping implacable foes…but once I got away, there was nothing to see but stars, stars, stars. Some of the stars were no doubt galaxies; others might have been planets, or comets, or incandescent space butterflies singing of life in the sun; but they all looked like stars, and I have seen stars before.
I wondered whether the journey would be more interesting if we slowed down—perhaps we were passing all manner of appealing space objects, but so quickly they could not be seen. However, with the human navy pursuing us, it did not seem wise to ease up even a little bit. Therefore, we hurtled through the tedious black for hour after frustrating hour, while the untwinkling stars went on and on without meaning, like one’s life when one is devoid of lofty goals…until suddenly, I heard a man clearing his throat.
“Uclod?” I called. All this time my eyes had been linked with the Zarett, unable to see my companions sitting in the chairs beside me. I had not known if they were alive or dead; and to tell the truth, I had mostly forgotten about them. The great starry sameness tended to blank my thoughts…which is not to say my brain grew Tired. I was fatigued, nothing more—and perhaps in need of solid food now that I had left the sustaining light of my Ancestral Tower. One must not let one’s heart become choked with panic over simple weariness and hunger. “Uclod?” I said much louder. “Are you finally awake, you churlish little man?”
“Nope, not Uclod. Guess again.”
The voice was definitely not Uclod’s. It sounded male but had a raspy nasal quality to it: the type of voice one’s sister might adopt when saying, “Nyah, nyah, look whose bed is wet!” The words were spoken in Explorer English with a quick flat accent that cut rapidly through syllables and left them sliced in pieces on the ground.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Where are you?”
“Ooo, direct questions!” the voice said. “That’s what I like about primitive organisms: no wasting time with social niceties. No throwing yourself into postures of abject worship and offering infant sacrifices like some races I could mention. You come right out and say, ‘Who the hell are you, pal?’”
“You are not my pal,” I said. “And despite your admiration for direct questions, you have not answered mine.”
“Absolutely right. That’s cuz I’m an asshole.”
“Do you have a name, Mr. Asshole? Do you have a location?”
“Yes and yes. See? I can answer questions with the best of ’em. And before you get your knickers in a knot, let me reveal myself in a tiny fraction of my eye-popping glory.”
One second I was looking at starry space, unable to see my own body; the next, I was standing in the flesh on a fiery red plain that was definitely not inside Starbiter.
The Fiery Red Plain
Less than a stone’s throw away, chunky pools of lava hissed up thin streams of smoke, making the air ripple with their heat. Small black things swam in the crimson-hot pools, two-headed slugs that slithered short distances along the surface, then buried their noses into the magma and dived out of sight. There were insects too, buzzing loudly enough to be heard over the molten sizzle, flying from one smoke streamer to another and pausing briefly inside each, as if sipping from flowers.
As soon as I thought of flowers, a garden sprang up around me: a garden that had not been present two seconds before. I did not recognize the plants—they were scarlet and black, with huge limpid blooms hanging heavily at the level of my thighs, their petals the color of human blood. They rustled restlessly against my legs and against each other, though I could feel no wind. I felt no heat either, nor the ground beneath my feet, nor the touch of the flowers, though I could see them brushing my skin…and suddenly I realized the truth.
“This is