Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

The Sunwardians on the Hooves of the Prophet get introduced to the Prime. They don’t seem to much like it.

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rjb

Chapter Fifty-One – Pilgrim One

While they waited they caught up on some chores, including reporting to Mission Control.

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Specialist Wayfarer. We were beginning to wonder.”

“Sorry,” said Wayfarer. “There’s been a lot going on.”

“Do tell.”

So she did. The last report had been just after the circumnavigation, when there hadn’t been much to tell other than how big everything was. Since then they’d gone inside, met an alien, been introduced to his friends back home and talked to the Sunward vessel, which was currently being rescued.

Mission Control had a lot of questions. What were the aliens like? What was the big vessel like inside? What was it and what was it doing there? Did it pose a danger to Grasswind? How did the aliens communicate instantaneously across light years? Why did they shoot Blunt? How was he doing? Are the aliens antagonists? What were the Sunwardians like? What was their vessel like? Were the aliens really rescuing them? Why?

Wayfarer did her best, but a lot of the questions didn’t have any answers yet, and the ones that did had answers that were big, complicated and incomplete. With help from Steel and Tallgrass she was able to bring Mission Control up to date, and to reassure them on most points. The aliens seemed quite nice. They lived on comets since the Visitor destroyed their world. This vessel, the Prime, appeared to have been the Visitor’s cargo vessel. No, it doesn’t appear to pose any danger. Yes, it shot Blunt, but we were warned not to use our weapons. No, we don’t know how the window works, but we’re sure they will tell us eventually. No, we don’t think it’s a trick. The Sunwardians? They seem okay, if a little suspicious. Okay, paranoid. Their vessel is a prototype. That’s why it broke down. Yes, Archie arranged a rescue right away.

There were a lot of questions and it took a long time with a six second delay at every back and forth. At last Mission Control said, “We’d better let you go so you can recharge your batteries.”

“No problem there,” said Wayfarer. “We’re hooked into the Prime’s grid, so we’ve got all the electricity we need, and the batteries are fully charged. They’re also replenishing all of our consumables. We’ll have all the fuel and oxygen and water we need for the return trip.”

“What? No food?”

“The food goes without saying. You should try the iceberry muffins. Fortunately the chirality of the amino acids is the same as ours. Archie says it’s because our stars formed out of the same molecular cloud.” Wayfarer paused, then said, “Tallgrass wants you to tell his mom that.”

“Will do. She gets everything anyway.”

“Thanks,” said Wayfarer, grinning at Tallgrass. “We’d better go. They’re about to put Hooves of the Prophet into its airlock, and we think it’s best if we’re there to greet them.”

“Understood. We’ll be standing by for updates. Mission Control out.”

The Hooves of the Prophet rested on the center of the floor of a fifteen meter cube, just as the Emissary did. Like the Emissary, it rested on a patch of setae, which held it in place. After the room was pressurized, the hatch opened and two pressure-suited figures floated out and explored the room. Like the Emissary’s airlock, the only thing of interest in this one was the five meter high door.

The two figures were hovering by their vessel watching the door when it began to slowly open. They both put their hands on the weapons they wore. As the crew of the Emissary had earlier, they had to lower their eyes to look at the person entering the room.

It was a small quadruped whose scales gleamed softly in the light. It walked on the floor with a peculiar sticking and peeling gait. In addition to its four legs it had two arms, and it was carrying a large sack in one hand. It stopped just inside the doorway, which remained open behind it, and put down the sack. Facing them, obviously unarmed, it spoke and said, “Greetings Sunwardians. Welcome to the Prime. My name is Supervisor Steel.” He glanced at their hands. “Are those weapons?”

The Sunwardians looked down, then one of them spoke. “Yes,” he said, “of course they are. It was my decision that the situation was uncertain and arming ourselves would be prudent.”

Steel nodded. “It’s all right,” he said. “I did the same thing. They don’t mind if you wear your weapons. Just, please, don’t try to use them.”

The Sunwardian’s stance got more aggressive. “I will decide if we use them or not,” he said.

Steel noted how threatening they looked in their pressure suits. Bigger, with an anonymous uniformity. He thought about how four of them must have looked to the little alien, Archie, and he was impressed again. He said, “That is your decision, of course. I must emphasize again, though, that you do not use them, for your own safety.” They said nothing, but they moved their hands away. “Very good,” said Steel. “Now, let’s complete the introductions, if you please.”

The one who had been speaking said, “I am Pilgrim One, and this is Pilgrim Two.”

“Nice to meet you Pilgrim One, Pilgrim Two. Do you have real names as well? I assume those are your designations for the mission.”

“Those are are real names,” said Pilgrim One.

“Very well,” said Steel. “Now, I suggest you remove those suits. It’s safe and you’ll be much more comfortable.” When they looked at each other but did nothing, he said, “It will also conserve your resources. You can’t wear them forever.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Pilgrim One, beginning to remove his suit. “We’re already dead. We were dead when our engine failed. When our mission failed. There’s no point in prolonging it.”

As they helped each other out of their suits, Steel reached into his sack and pulled out three sets of booties and stuck them to the floor. When they were done he picked up two sets and walked forward. He held up a foot to show them his bootie, then demonstrated the peculiar walking technique while they put theirs on. While they were practising he said, “There’s one more set for your crewmate. Pilgrim Three, I presume?”

Their hands went to their thighs, where they had strapped their pistols after removing their suits. “Who told you we have a third crew member?” demanded Pilgrim One.

“No one,” said Steel. “It just stands to reason. You wouldn’t undertake such a long mission with just two. That wouldn’t be enough. And I don’t think Hooves of the Prophet would support four. That leaves three. Also you’re hyper-vigilant and a little paranoid. Holding one back would be a reasonable precaution.”

Pilgrim Two took offense, but Pilgrim One nodded and took his hand off his weapon. He turned to his vessel and called, “Number Three, take off your suit and come out here.” He looked at Steel and almost smiled. He said, “You understand the demands of command, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Steel, smiling back. “I understand protecting your crew and your mission.”

As Pilgrim Two looked on suspiciously, Pilgrim One nodded, sharing the moment with his peer, the only one who could fully understand. Then he said, “We have no mission. Hooves of the Prophet is no longer serviceable. We are never going home.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to write off your mission,” said Steel. “Archie tells me he thinks they can fix your vessel. They should even be able to make a few improvements to make it safer. Things you probably would have done anyway if you weren’t in such a hurry.”

“Archie?”

“Our host. The one who met us in the other airlock. You know, if you don’t want to risk it, they could attach your vessel to one of theirs and carry you there much quicker. You could even ride inside their vessel if you wanted.”

“We’ll think about it. We’ll talk it over with Mission Guidance. In the meantime, when can we meet this Archie? I would like to convey greetings from the Most High Servant of Sunward.”

“Of course,” said Steel. “You’ll meet him. But first I’d like to introduce you to the rest of my crew, beginning with Mission Specialist Blunt. He will show you why you don’t want to draw your weapons.”

“I find it hard to accept that you would allow them to injure your crewman, and do nothing about it.”

The introductions were made and Pilgrim One was having a private talk with Supervisor Steel, while the rest of the two crews were getting to know each other. The two from Hooves of the Prophet were both staring at Wayfarer, who was beginning to look uncomfortable.

“And that,” said Pilgrim One, pointing at them. “A woman on a mission like this.”

Steel smiled and said, “Mission Specialist Wayfarer is a valuable member of my crew.”

“Doing what? Is she there to service your needs?”

Steel’s smile vanished and his brow grew heavy, descending over narrowed eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “Why? Is that what your women are to you?”

“No!” said Pilgrim One, shocked and offended. “Our women are revered. They are sacred vessels of God’s gift of life.” He drew himself up in haughty superiority.

Steel’s throat filled with a jumble of angry responses, but he swallowed them and said, “Our women are our equals, and their bodies serve them, not us. Specialist Wayfarer is good at what she does, and I’d gladly have a whole crew just like her.”

Pilgrim One smirked. “What would you have done if they had shot her instead of Blunt?” he asked.

“They wouldn’t have shot her because she wouldn’t have drawn her weapon.”

“But if she had? Then what? I don’t think you would have just stood by then, would you?”

Steel sighed. He said, “That kind of speculation leads nowhere. The fact is, Blunt lost discipline and paid the price. And we had been warned.”

“So you let them get away with it. Sacrificed one of your crew to prudence, or worse.”

Steel spoke through stiff lips. “I will be answering for my decision when we get back to Grasswind. I am required to explain myself to them. I am not required to explain myself to you.” He glared at the Sunwardian. “Yes, they injured Blunt, but they could have just as easily killed him. They could have killed all of us, but they didn’t. If you think you can do better, then be my guest. Order one of your crew to shoot Archie when he comes.”

Pilgrim One’s eyes flickered, but he maintained the rest of his haughty demeanor. “I will decide what orders I give, not you,” he said.

“Of course,” said Steel, “and I will decide mine.”

Pilgrim One looked as if he wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth and looked away. He said, “So, where is your alien? Why doesn’t he show himself?”

“He’ll be here shortly,” said Steel. “We thought it would be best if we met you first, to give you time to prepare. To be honest, the weapons on your ship worried me. I wanted to assure myself that you wouldn’t do anything rash.”

With a pitying look, Pilgrim One said, “Too delicate for the harsh realities of life, eh Steel? Well, stand aside then. I’ll show you how to deal with these aliens.”

At that moment there was a movement in the doorway, caught by the prey eyes of them all, and they turned to watch Archie enter. The Sunwardians put their hands on their pistols, and Steel got his crew to separate themselves from them, just in case.

Archie flew in about two meters off the floor. Just inside the doorway he sculled with his wings and put his feet down. Folding his wings, he said, “Welcome to the Prime. My name is Archie. Those are weapons, aren’t they?”

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

They meet the people of Green Comet. The vessel from Sunward approaches, and things get tense.

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rjb

Chapter Fifty – Hooves of the Prophet

“Tallgrass, this is Frances,” said Archie. “She and a few of her friends saved Green Comet from annihilation when the Visitor was destroying our world. Later, after they discovered the Prime, we all went on a mission together to the world of the Makers, the ones who built the Visitor and sent it out to explore. I’ll let Frances introduce her companions.”

“My goodness,” said the golden-eyed Frances. “It all sounds so grand, doesn’t it?” She took her hand off the window and indicated the person next to her, slightly behind her left shoulder, looking at Tallgrass with penetrating eyes. “Tallgrass of Sage, this is my best friend and lifelong companion, Elgin, without whom saving Green Comet would have been impossible, and in some ways pointless.” The man nodded, and Frances went on to introduce the rest of her friends, four more males and two more females.

Tallgrass noticed that his hand was still on the window, so he took it off to introduce his crewmates. “And one more,” he said, “who’s not here. He was shot and injured by the Prime.”

“We heard about that,” said Frances. “It’s not the first time, either. The Prime simply does not like weapons.”

“Maybe you could tell us about the other times,” said Tallgrass. “And about the Prime. And the Visitor you mentioned. I get the feeling that they have something to do with our legends of destruction falling on us from the sky.”

“They do,” said Archie, “but for now we have something more immediate to consider.” He did something that caused another view to pop up in the window to the right of the people on the other side. It must have appeared on their side too, because they all looked to their left. It was a patch of starry blackness with what looked like a piece of machinery in it. Archie said, “This is the Sunwardian vessel. It’s getting close and should arrive in about six hours.”

They all stared at it and Supervisor Steel said, “They flew out here in that?” His skin rippled. “It looks like a prototype.”

“Yes,” said Archie. “We think they rushed things to try to beat you here.”

Fran’s friend Elgin said, “Are those weapons on the outside of it?”

“They might be,” said Archie.

“I’m sure they are,” said Steel.

Archie shook his head. “If they try to use those and the Prime reacts …”

“It will damage their vessel, won’t it?” said Steel.

“It will breach its structural integrity,” said Archie.

They were all quiet, thinking, when the alien Frances said, “If they do use their weapons, then they’d better be in their pressure suits.”

“Right,” said Steel. “I’ve got to get back to the Emissary to warn them.” He pulled away from the window, then stopped. “It’s been an honor to meet you,” he said to Frances and her friends. “I hope we can talk again, but for now I must do this.” He nodded and turned again to leave. Tallgrass and Wayfarer said hasty goodbyes and went after him, followed by Archie.

As they labored up the hallway, which they now noticed had a slight slope of a degree or two, Archie said, “Let’s try something,” and he held out a foot for Steel to hold. Then, with the little alien flapping in front, towing a chain of three Grasswindians, they made their way back to the airlock.

“Sunwardian vessel, this is Supervisor Steel of the Grasswindian vessel Emissary, over.” Steel said to Archie, “Are you sure this is getting out?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Archie. “There is a dumb relay outside that re-broadcasts your signal at the same power and frequency.”

Steel nodded and keyed the microphone. “Sunwardian vessel, this is the Emissary, over.” He clipped the microphone to the panel and said, “Maybe they changed frequencies.”

“That doesn’t seem likely,” said Wayfarer.

“No,” said Steel, “it doesn’t.” He was pushing himself away from the console when the speaker popped and emitted the hum of a carrier wave.

“Grasswindian vessel Emissary, this is Sunwardian vessel Hooves of the Prophet, over.” The voice spoke impeccable Grasswindian, but with a definite accent.

“Hooves of the Prophet?” said Tallgrass.

“Quite an accent,” said Wayfarer.

“Never mind,” said Steel. “At least they’re talking to us.” He said to Archie, “They have a different language, don’t they?”

“Yes,” said Archie. “Like you, they have a global language, but it has diverged considerably from yours over the millennia.”

“Your translator works for their language too, right?” At Archie’s nod he asked, “Will it translate directly from theirs to ours?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Thank you,” said Steel, picking up the microphone. “Hooves of the Prophet, this is Emissary. Greetings. It is good to hear your voice. I trust you had a good voyage.”

“Yes, thank you,” came the heavily accented voice. “And you?”

“It was good,” said Steel. “I want to thank you for learning our language. That was thoughtful. Over.”

“You were filling the heavens with it, so it wasn’t difficult, over.”

“Right,” said Steel. “I still appreciate the effort. Be advised, though, that you can speak in your own language. We have a translator.”

“A translator? How have you done that? Did you capture a Sunwardian? Or perhaps you have been spying on us.”

“No of course not,” said Steel. “It’s a translating machine. It belongs to the people living on the Prime.”

“The Prime? This is what you call the Ark of God? Why have you put people on the Ark of God?”

“No, no,” said Steel. “We haven’t put people on the, uh, Prime. We found them here when we got here, and they call it the Prime. And they’re the ones who have the translator, and it can translate your language directly to ours.”

After a pause, the reply came. “Do you mean there are people who have been living on the Ark all this time? Are they the ones who spied on us?”

“No. No. They are not Grasswindian. They are from another star. And they’ve been studying us. Gathering information. Not spying.”

“That is a fine distinction between gathering information and spying, isn’t it? Do you speak for these aliens?”

“You can speak to them yourselves any time. I wanted to speak to you first to prepare you, and also to warn you about your weapons. We thought it might be better coming from someone more familiar.”

“Weapons? How do you know we have weapons?”

“We can see them.”

“How? We can’t see you at all.”

“No, of course. We’re inside the Prime.”

“Inside the Ark? Have they captured you? Are you prisoners? Is this why you lie for them?”

“I’m not lying!” snapped Steel, losing patience. He gathered himself and said, “I just wanted to warn you about your weapons. It’s all right that you have them. They don’t mind that. Just don’t use them. The Prime apparently doesn’t like weapons.”

“Which is it, the Ark or the aliens? Either way, we will use our weapons if we see fit.”

“Okay. That’s your choice. But make sure to put on your pressure suits first. We’re told that when the Prime destroys your weapons, it won’t be able to avoid breaching your hull.”

That resulted in a long silence. When the Sunwardian spoke again, it was in his own language. “Very well. We will keep that in mind. Meanwhile, we will be passing your location in three hours. Tell your alien friends not to try anything.” The translation was perfect, and it came directly out of Emissary’s speaker.

Steel cocked an eyebrow at Archie, and Archie shrugged. While Tallgrass was marveling that it was possible for both of them to understand each other’s gestures, Archie said, “It seemed least complicated to use your own speaker for the translation.”

Steel shrugged and lifted the microphone. “Hooves of the Prophet,” he said, “do I understand correctly that you are not going to stop here?”

There was another long pause, then, “We cannot stop. Our engine failed not long before you called us. God, in his wisdom, has deemed it fitting.”

Steel couldn’t think of what to say. He looked at the others. Archie was looking away and speaking in a low voice, Wayfarer was looking at her supervisor, and Tallgrass went to his console. Finally Steel keyed his mic and said, “Hooves of the Prophet, please confirm you have engine failure and have lost control of your vessel.”

“That is affirmative,” they replied. “This was not unexpected. We had to hasten our departure and use this prototype to ensure we would arrive before you. It is God’s will.”

“How can …” began Steel, but stopped because he intuitively guessed that it wouldn’t do any good to point out the logical inconsistency.

Tallgrass looked over and said, “They will miss us because they needed a few more hours of thrust to match our velocity.”

“Understood,” said Steel. “Will they swing back toward Sunward? Maybe close enough to get rescued?”

“Yes, but it will take years.”

“So, they’ll be dead. Can we intercept them and take them aboard Emissary?”

“Theoretically, but by the time we did it would be too late. And we wouldn’t be able to get home.”

“Of course,” said Steel. “We wouldn’t have the fuel, would we?” He squeezed the microphone, frowning deeply.

Tallgrass went back to his calculations, just in case. Wayfarer went to her console to try some ideas of her own. Steel raised the mic to his mouth and said, “Hooves of the Prophet, stand by while we try to figure this out. Don’t give up.”

“We do not give up,” they said. “We do God’s work without question, and surrender our will to his. We give our small lives now in the certain knowledge of eternity at his side later.”

“Okay,” said Steel, “but it’s not a certainty yet. We’re still working on it.”

“You won’t find anything. We’ve been working on it and I can assure you that we’ve missed nothing.”

“Understood,” said Steel, “but we’re not giving up yet.”

After a short pause they said, “Acknowledged. Your efforts are futile, but we appreciate the gesture. Hooves of the Prophet, out.”

Steel replaced the microphone and said, “Well? Anything?”

Wayfarer shook her head and Tallgrass said, “There’s just no way. With the velocities, the fuel available and the time constraints, they’re right. There’s no way.”

Steel pounded his thigh, glowering. “I can’t accept that. Not while there’s still time.”

They were standing in descending gloom when Archie said, “We might be able to do this.” When they turned to him he said, “I’ve alerted my people and they’re preparing to launch a couple of scouts.”

“Scouts?” said Steel.

“Those vessels on top of the Prime, right?” said Tallgrass.

“Right,” said Archie. “The scouts are the small ones. Only thirty meters. We don’t want to alarm them.”

“But what can they do?” asked Tallgrass. “I assume they can catch it, but then what?”

“They’re planning on stringing some webbing between the scouts and catching it. Then they can haul it back here and put it in an airlock.”

“Oh, is that all?” said Steel.

They recognized Archie’s response as a laugh. “Yes,” he said. “It’s going to take skill and patience and timing. They’ll have to match its velocity precisely to minimize damage. There are a lot of things they’ll have to get right, but they think they can do it.”

They did. There were two heavy distant clunks as the scouts separated from the Prime, and then it took most of a day. There were a few tense moments, but in the end they had three of the little aliens out there in their pressure suits, guiding Hooves of the Prophet into an airlock of similar dimensions adjacent to the one the Emissary was in. Other than a bent antenna, the little vessel was virtually undamaged.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Blunt gets medical treatment and they get a tour of the big thing.

Please join in the conversation. If you like this, let someone know so they can enjoy it, too.

rjb

Chapter Forty-Nine – The Square

“Once again, I’m sorry,” said Archie. They were standing around an unmoving Blunt, the excitement wearing off and introspection setting in.

When Archie came through the door carrying a big sack, Blunt had drawn his weapon in a frightened, defensive reflex. Just as reflexively, the great ship’s defense system engaged to eliminate the threat. The result was startling and effective, and now Blunt was unconscious, lying on a bed with his arm in something Archie called a healing sleeve.

After the cracking noise, Blunt was immobilized, his mouth open wide in a soundless scream. It was as if his arm had been struck by an invisible bolt of lightning. There was minimal visible damage to his suit, but they could tell there must be severe damage to his arm inside it.

Archie had dropped the sack and rushed forward. Seeing where Steel’s hand was, he said, “Please don’t draw your weapon. I warned you. I told you the Prime doesn’t like weapons.” He got close enough to see the damage to Blunt’s arm. Blunt cringed away from him, protecting his injury. Archie said to him, “We can fix this. We have the facilities to repair the damage to your arm. To stop the pain.”

Blunt’s conflict was clear in his face and body. He desperately wanted to stop the pain and heal his arm, but he was suspicious and afraid. He looked at Steel, pleading.

Steel made it easy for him. He said, “You have no choice, Specialist Blunt. I need you whole and healthy to complete the mission. I’m ordering you to allow these people to treat you.”

Blunt slumped with gratitude and, with a great show of reluctance, submitted. They got him out of his suit, fortunately after an application of analgesia, and carried him out of the airlock to a small room with a bed. There he was sedated and the healing sleeve wrapped itself around his badly burned arm. Archie apologized yet again and they all looked down on Blunt’s inert form for a few minutes before leaving the room and heading back to the airlock.

There they removed their pressure suits and stowed them in the Emissary, along with their guns. Blunt’s suit they kept out because Archie told them they could repair it. Then he finally picked up the sack again. He said, “As I was about to show you, we have setae on our hands and feet which allow us to grip things. The ones on our feet allow us to stick to the floor and walk, after a fashion.” He pulled something out of the sack. “We made these for your feet, to allow you to do the same,” he said, showing them some booties that would slip over their hooves.

Tallgrass volunteered, raising a hoof, and Archie bent and slipped a bootie over it. It fitted itself, snugging itself down and sealing. Archie handed him three more and gave four each to Steel and Wayfarer. The sack held four more for Blunt, when he was ready.

Tallgrass reached down and pressed a hoof to the floor, then tugged. He was surprised when it pulled his body down, and he threw his other three feet down to stop himself. Now all four feet were stuck and he couldn’t pull them loose. He looked at Archie.

“If you give a little tug laterally, it breaks the seal, and you can lift your foot. See?”

Tallgrass tried it, and it worked. He showed his mates and the three of them spent the next few minutes awkwardly sticking and peeling their way around the airlock. Watching each other, they began to laugh, helplessly before long.

Archie had another treat for them. He took them out of the airlock again and down a long passageway, past Blunt’s room and on for what they estimated to be a kilometer, at least. In his mind’s eye, Tallgrass visualized them moving inward, traversing about a thirtieth of the width of the great ship.

“We keep the living quarters well inboard,” said their guide. “We like to keep lots of mass between ourselves and the hazards out there.”

“Hazards?” said Tallgrass. “Like asteroids?”

“Yes,” said Archie. “You saw them stuck to the outside, didn’t you? We tried avoiding and diverting them at first, but soon realized that we could solve the problem for good by catching them. There’s hardly anything floating loose any more, and nothing bigger than a meter.”

“So you’re safe now,” said Tallgrass.

“Yes, except for random bolides passing through, and of course, cosmic rays. We need to be shielded against them, too.”

They were almost at their destination when they passed a robot going the other way. It had four legs and four arms attached to a caterpillar-like body that was horizontal for the legs, and curved up to vertical for the arms and a rudimentary face. The face had a diagonal stripe of damage across it, and the rounded dome of the head had a deep, vee-shaped dent, slightly off-center.

“Hello Scarface,” said Archie. “These are our guests.” He introduced them, while the robot looked on blankly, saying nothing. When he dismissed it the robot continued on down the passage, reaching far in front of itself with one pair of legs, and pulling itself along surprisingly rapidly. They watched its diminishing form, then turned to carry on.

“Scarface?” asked Tallgrass.

Archie chuckled. “It’s a long story,” he said. “There were about eight hundred of those on board when we found the Prime. He was the first one we met. They’re built on the body plan of the Makers, the ones who sent the Visitor.”

“The Visitor? The Makers?”

Archie grimaced. “Like I said, a long story. There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, though, we’re here.”

They were standing in the entrance of a vast space. The passage they were leaving was five meters across. They were looking into a cube that had to be a hundred meters on a side. They saw motion, and looked to see more of the winged creatures flying across the big room. They spotted the newcomers and swooped down to land in front of them. To Tallgrass, they looked like twins of Archie.

That changed by the time the introductions were over. Up close he could see that the one called Coracle had lighter colored eyes, while Magellan’s covering was darker and covered more of his forehead. They were both bigger than Archie, too. Coracle turned out to be a female.

“Archie,” said Tallgrass, “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“I hope this isn’t too rude,” said Tallgrass. “Your covering. It’s not clothing, is it? It’s something like our scales, right?”

“Of course it’s not too rude,” said Archie. “Our customs are obviously going to differ greatly, so the concept of rude doesn’t apply yet. As for the covering, yes, it’s like your scales. We call it fur, or hair.”

“I thought so,” said Tallgrass.

“On our world,” Archie said, “we had different kinds of coverings. We had fur, like this. Some animals had scales, something like yours. Others had what we called feathers. They were all different, but they all served the same purpose.”

“To protect the skin,” said Tallgrass. “We don’t have anything like fur or feathers. We just have scales. All animals have scales.”

“To be fair,” said Archie, “your flying animals have scales that are something like feathers. Bigger. Lighter. More mobile.”

Coracle and Magellan were staring. There was no other word for it. Coracle’s hand kept creeping out, wanting to touch, but she kept snatching it back. Wayfarer noticed and peeled and stuck her way over. There, she held out her arm for Coracle to touch. Then Coracle held out her arm. “It’s soft,” said Wayfarer. “And thick.” She looked at the wing tops visible over the shoulders, and Coracle turned and extended one. Stretched out, it was about a meter long. Leathery skin covered long, light bones. The fur was thinner than body fur, especially on the underside. She let Coracle stroke the scales on her back.

Wayfarer said, “What a coincidence that we both have six limbs.”

“Not really,” said Archie. “We induced the wings genetically. The fur too, to thicken it. They’re both suitable for living on comets.”

“Comets?” said Tallgrass.

Archie chuckled again. “Another long story for later. For now, I want to show you the window.”

“Window?” said Tallgrass. “A kilometer from the hull?”

“That’s just what we call it. It’s actually how we communicate with the comets, and the rest of our people.”

“But,” objected Tallgrass, “am I correct in assuming that they are at other stars?”

“Yes, and some between stars.”

“Light years away?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. It’s instantaneous.”

“But …” Tallgrass shrugged and let it go. If he got hung up on every thing he learned, they’d never get anywhere.

The window was on the wall to the left, about halfway down, and five meters off the floor. It was ten meters wide and three meters high, and just looked like a black hole in the wall. They floated there, Archie anchored to the wall by one setaed hand, and the Grasswindians using a bootied foot. Tallgrass was relieved. He couldn’t believe how tired his legs could get in microgravity. All that unaccustomed locomotion, he presumed.

Archie did something and the window lighted up, all thirty square meters of it. They were looking into a space at least twice as big as the one they were in. On the opposite wall there were big green columns marking entrances, and the same to the right in red, and the left in yellow. They could see more furry creatures flying around, but more interesting were the ones right on the other side of the window. Tallgrass pulled himself close and put his hand on it. One of the people on the other side, one with golden eyes and golden-brown fur, put its hand up against his. Unless this was a trick, he thought, we’re reaching across light years of space and time.