Chapter 15 #2
When Suvan shifted to face her, his pale quartz eyes glinted. “Yes. But I’ll need help.” He lifted that piercing gaze. “From everyone.”
+ + +
“Even rocket scientists would seriously question filling a capacitorus with a quantum-phase plasma cascade based on the rampages of a lovelorn energy monster to turbocharge a speed-date cruiser,” Remy stage-whispered.
Mariah ignored the snark, because she was trying to make sense of the plan that Suvan seemed to be knitting out of nothing with no time to lose: something-something optimized quantum simulation, blah blah entanglement bleed, yada yada localized encapsulated distortion, etcetera and so forth…
She focused on the condensed version. “So half of us sing the resonark into over-emoting while half of us capture the emissions and then…we go really fast?”
“And I make sure we don’t explode,” Suvan said in that deadpan way of his, except she could no longer tell if he was joking.
As everyone on the Love Boat I split to their tasks to reunite the resonark with…whatever was fading at the other end of its quantum song—its mate, if the captain was right—Mariah paused under the prismatic sphere hanging in her knotwork.
“Why didn’t you send me a dream?” she whispered.
There was no answer.
“Mariah.” Suvan waited in the salon doorway. “You’re with me on the engine team.”
She didn’t quite understand why she needed to recreate her knotwork in the containment unit—that had been the something-or-other about mirror network effects—but she followed the engine team down the long, slanting corridor into the depths of the ship.
“How’s your head?” she asked quietly. “And your shoulder?”
“As I told the captain and the doctor, I am essentially recovered.” His pale gaze slanted to her. “Except for the memories from several duty cycles before my accident. I took a remedy to aid cognitive repair, but…I suspect it only intensified my dreams.”
“I wish you had more time to rest,” she said, trying to keep the fretful tone out of her voice.
He rolled his shoulder. “Not on this cruise, it seems.”
When they caught up to the other passengers, she couldn’t ask anything more.
Like what else other than quantum-phase plasma cascades he might’ve dreamed about.
To her surprise, the engine module was lit to Earther-bright levels. Which made sense since everyone on the team had been chosen to be compatible with each other—except Suvan.
And of course that was who she’d fallen for.
She’d never believed in curses and star-crossed lovers, but…
As Suvan ordered everyone to their duties, she had no more time to mope.
Anoushka had been assigned to assist Mariah with the weaving while others modified the capacitorus.
In the brighter work lighting, the resonark’s old prison looked like a giant disco ball donut twisted into a mobius strip, with each translucent honeycomb facet catching different wavelengths of the light.
“I was a project manager on a few bridges,” Anoushka said. “Weaving isn’t so different, just string instead of steel. Although the underlying structures of your designs are a bit…nebulous.”
Mariah nodded. “When Felicity asked me to knit some art for Remy’s recital, I needed something fast and loose. I was inspired by spiral nebulas.”
While her hands automatically sorted the tools of her craft, she looked around the module for Lub but guessed the goblhob must be hiding from so many intruders. “So, you and Fahrol?”
That innocuous question ignited Anoushka’s dark eyes and a soliloquy on the delights of Graveri courtship rituals. If love could be writ in string or steel or song, Mariah mused, certainly they could speed to its summons across spacetime.
The whimsical weave she’d done for the recital was easy enough to recreate, especially with the extra hands and the thick, oddly sticky cable Suvan had provided for the knotwork, but they still ended up needing a break.
Suvan brought a hovercart to their station, loaded with treats and the black sludge coffee. “We are nearly ready for you,” he said, with a gesture toward the capacitorus before stalking off.
Anoushka watched him go, then cast a curious glance at Mariah. “So, you and…Chief?”
Mariah’s needle slipped as she set it aside, stabbing into her palm. Luckily they were using her jumbo needles so she didn’t puncture herself.
Unfortunately it was the same hand Suvan had pierced, and that memory was sharper than any needle.
“It’s complicated,” she said around the pang. “Let’s finish this up.”
It was past midnight according to ship’s time when they transferred the knotwork to the mobius strip donut of the capacitorus.
What looked so beautiful and airy in the Starlit Salon was cramped in the twisting tube of the containment unit.
Mariah averted her gaze, focusing on the console monitor linked to the bar sensor, which showed the resonark and the team still in the salon.
Despite the fine resolution of all the high-tech screens, everyone seemed so far away.
“Captain.” Suvan had left a separate datpad on a stool that projected the Kufzasin lion-man looking majestic on his bridge.
“We’ll have one shot at mirroring the resonark’s unique tesselation in the capacitorus.
It will burn through the phlogiston flashcord almost instantaneously and supercharge the engines.
But not for long. And based on the signal decay from the null cloud, we won’t be able to fabricate more cordage in time for another go. This is it.”
“Acknowledged,” Nehivar said. “Helm?”
“Course locked, Captain,” Delphine replied crisply.
“Ready in the salon.” Through the monitor, Ikaryo’s voice sounded small, and Mariah tightened her aching hands, which only hurt worse.
“Go.”
The serenade in the Starlit Salon, conducted by Remy, was as whimsical as the knotwork, an interweaving medley of the happy birthday song, a Christmas carol, some sportsball chant Mariah almost recognized, a pop anthem that had been old when she was a kid, and some extraterrestrial tunes she didn’t know, but all simple, emotional and engaging, building upon each other.
Even through the small speaker, the choral passion poured out—along with a few shaky, off-key notes, which only added to the sense of heartfelt feeling.
Mariah flattened her sore hands over her heart. While they’d been adrift, she’d teased Remy about a sleepaway camp talent show, but she’d never imagined they’d actually do it.
Stuffed into the capacitorus, the woven flashcord began to glisten, as if liquifying.
If it lost shape before igniting…
She’d understood the basics: The containment unit had siphoned the “energy monster” out of the ship’s systems when they’d been hijacked. Now Suvan was essentially reversing the flow to inject a simulated version of that energy back into the engines.
Assuming their cobbled-together replica of quantum entanglement could hold a mirrored reflection of the resonark’s power without burning out the engines—or breaking the fading bond between the resonark and its mate.
Though the unit’s translucent honeycomb shell, the flashcord knot looked strangely fragmented, even though she knew it was one continuous cable.
The other members of the engine team, who’d helped Suvan reconnect the conduits between the capacitorus and the engines, stood back as the unit hummed—in tune with the chorus in the salon.
She stepped closer, needing to be sure the knot was intact. Not that she could do anything about it now.
“Mariah—”
Just as the flashcord detonated, Suvan grabbed her and spun her away.
Impossibly bright light scorched around them. But he had her sheltered with her back against his chest, her head bent into the protection of his spiky arms.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and it was still too bright.
Before she could gasp, the flare was gone, leaving her dazzled when she peeked around Suvan at the empty capacitorus. The knot had burned away, not even ash remaining.
Suvan… “Your eyes,” she gasped.
“I didn’t guess it would blow like that.” His tone was chagrined. “Brace yourself.”
“Why—”
As he took them to their knees, he repeated the order into his comm, the warning words reverberating through every device.
And the ship leaped.
The jolt was hard as the ship accelerated past the capacity of its compensating inertia dampeners. Since she and Suvan were already on the deck, they didn’t fall, but she felt the strain of the ship through the deck under her spread palms.
Suvan, crouched like a shield over her, was even more tensed. He angled one of his oversized wrist datpads in front of her. “There are several readings circled. What do they show?”
He couldn’t see it himself? Dread flooded her.
“All indicators are within the specs you set, including”—she swallowed hard as her universal translator caught up—“structural integrity, life support, and auxiliary power.” She rested her fingers on his inner wrist, where there were no quill-scales, to rotate the datpad slightly.
“Helm is…exactly within your upper-end limit.”
“Good.” Satisfaction softened the edges of his gruff voice. The device pinged. “What’s that?”
“Delphine responded to the helm reading with…I think it’s a cartoon of a dancing larf.”
He grunted; amusement or disdain, she wasn’t sure. With one arm still wrapped around her, he lifted them easily to their feet, and he held her in place while she steadied herself.
Everyone else was also straightening, including the salon chorus on the monitor. Somebody in the salon cheered—maybe a little raggedly—and the engine team responded with equally shaken enthusiasm.
“Chief,” Mariah said softly, peering up at him. “Did that light damage your vision?”
“Since I increased the ambient lumes before you all arrived, I’m wearing fortified contacts. But the detonation was very bright. I’ll need therapeutic intervention.” He put one hand on her shoulder. “It would help if you’d clear this module so I can lower the lumes again.”
“Yes, of course. Come with me.” With her hand wrapped around his wrist datpad, she maneuvered him away from the group. “Here’s a stool. I’ll get everyone out. Just hold tight.”
After sending a message to Felicity, she found Anoushka and asked her to lead everyone back to the salon. The cruise director’s offer of an after-party appeared on all their devices a moment later.
Mariah helped shoo the chattering engine team out into the corridor, thanked Anoushka, and rushed back to find Suvan.
The lights were off, and by the faintest glow of her datpad, she returned to the stool where she’d left him. But he was gone.
A small bobble dipped and danced out of the shadows.
“Lub,” she said, taking a cautious step forward. “Will you take me to him?”
Extinguishing her device, she followed the lure into the darkness.