The cavern swam in front of Sabrina's eyes, shifting forms in a gradual but swift progression that made her dizzy if she tried to follow it too closely. She felt pain in her chest and realized she had forgotten to breathe. She was almost afraid to; the very air was alive with change. She'd never seen, never imagined anything like this, even with the miraculous things she had witnessed at Mara's side. Mara displaced objects in space/time, moving them around, for the most part. Rarely did she make the effort to reshape one thing into another, and if she did it was usually a rough conversion of mass to energy. Sabrina had never grasped more than the most basic physics of how Mara applied Crystal energy, but she knew it was different from what she was seeing here.
Ford was fast losing any resemblance to his true self, wrapping power around him like a shroud until he was too bright to look at for long. Sabrina was afraid his physical form was in danger of dissolving. Had the ghost been formless too long to remember how to take care of a body?
She looked down at her hands, twisted together so tightly her knuckles were white, alarmingly pale against the cherry red silk beneath them. Her combat suit was gone, morphed beyond recognition into this comfortable yet cumbersome red robe with ornate gold stitching. The stone bench she had been sitting on was changed into a cushioned chair, and part of the nearby wall was now reflective. She was afraid to face her reflection, afraid that the Emperor was trying to turn her into Kestabriani. She was even more afraid to think that he might be succeeding, without her realizing it. Had Ford realized he was being engulfed by another personality? Had he felt this sickening, seeping horror too?
In one swift, determined movement, she pushed to her feet and took the two strides to the mirror-surface. A stranger looked back at her, equally horrified. For a moment Sabrina thought the reflection must be seeing her true form, while she stared into Kestabriani's eyes.
She'd expected something exotic, maybe vaguely Egyptian, which was how she thought of the Pharon. But Kestabriani's hair was a plain mouse-brown, twisted into an elaborate coiffure of looped braids, and her skin was even paler than Sabrina's own. The eyes were a rich, unusual green, her one really attractive feature. Sabrina realized with a start that Kestabriani had not been Pharon at all—she had been a slave, from a race of slaves. Maybe that explained the hopeless acquiescence Sabrina had been fighting since the Emperor made his presence felt.
She angrily stamped down the stray thought that perhaps her relationship to Ford paralleled the one they were living now. Then she returned to contemplating that, aware that she might find valuable clues as to how to handle the Emperor when he again became aware of his surroundings. She couldn't tell what were her guesses and what might be memories from the ghosts around her—she didn't know if any of Kestabriani was in her mind or not. But she had to use what she knew, even though she had no way to verify any of it.
She began to construct his profile in her mind. He was out of his depth and knew it. Resentful. Insecure. He had probably always been insecure, which might explain his attachment to Kestabriani. Was he more comfortable with someone he regarded as an inferior? If so, she would have to be careful not to disturb his illusion.
Ford, on the other hand, gravitated toward his intellectual equals, when he could find them. Sabrina had, over the course of their friendship, managed one or two feats of cleverness that made him respect her intelligence; otherwise, their relationship would never have worked. He also had a strong protective instinct, probably the result of being the eldest of so many siblings and the de facto head of the family a large part of the time. The Emperor was used to being protected and considered himself more important than anyone else. She would be able to tell which personality was in control by identifying whom he was trying to protect. That is, if she was lucky enough to get to the point that his identity was in question.
She risked a glance at the center of the room again. It was like looking into a small star. There was no way she was going to be able to physically get his attention. But he was able to sense her, so if she could focus her thoughts and feelings intensely enough, perhaps he would be drawn out to respond to her. She had an increasing sense that what he was doing was dangerous and that she must stop it. But what would appeal to him? Fear? A desire to escape? Need? The last one, she thought. He would like being needed. It would make him feel important, capable. It might also draw Ford out, if she were very lucky.
She took a deep breath and concentrated on the feeling, feeding it, nurturing it, without ever suspecting she was engineering her own undoing.
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"None of the long-range probes are responding," Khediva reported, a few tense moments after emergence at the extreme edge of Pharon space. "There are alarming irregularities in the continuum here, more than what were mapped by Nllata äíe Madat eighty-seven years ago. We will be forced to fall back, or risk not being able to navigate, within fifteen minutes."
"That quickly!" Tirqwin exclaimed.
"The anomalous area is expanding rapidly. I have traced its theoretical center to the position the planet Pharo should occupy, if our charts of this system are correct. We have no way to verify that, however," Khediva reminded them. "I have attempted to search for ships by doing a gross mass comparison to what Nllata äíe Madat reported the system to contain, but the margin for error is so great that it is basically useless. In all this...warpage, for lack of a better term, even a visible light scan may not be reliable. And we would have to get much closer in to attempt that."
"What is Nllata äíe Madat's ETA?" Tirqwin asked.
"One hour, six minutes."
"Too long."
Khediva was silent; Scotty pictured her shrugging, unable to change her answer. He turned to Aurora. "Do you feel anything?"
"A great many things. None of which I like," she replied. "I am reminded of nothing so much as the horrible tales Ford used to tell when we were little, to scare us. Something dark and evil released from its bondage by unsuspecting, well-meaning beings to prey on their equally unsuspecting people."
"Yeurgh," was all Scotty could think of in reply.
"We are not unsuspecting," Tirqwin pointed out. "In fact I am suspecting far too much for my own peace of mind."
"Not to mention mine," Khediva added dryly. "I think I prefer—" She broke off a millisecond before a proximity alarm sounded.
"Who is it?" Tirqwin demanded.
"Not one of ours. Not The Adventure, either," Khediva said. "Not a type we are familiar with. And yet it does seem familiar, in a slight way. It is having trouble navigating the turbulence. Do you wish to assist?"
"The only other person we know of in this space is Malvarak," Tirqwin said, mostly to himself. He hung his head with a sigh, then squared his shoulders. "Yes. Tractors ready, Khediva. Move us closer, but not on an intercept course yet. Be ready for anything."
"An impossible admonition," Khediva complained, as she complied with the more mundane instructions. "Tirqwin, I do not think they will clear the turbulence before we are forced to move away, unless we help them to do so. I cannot get clear readings as to whether there are beings aboard, and I am not entirely sure I can achieve a lock with tractors either."
"Try," Tirqwin said. "Are they responding to our communication?"
"No...wait. There is something. Extremely distorted, but I think it may be a distress signal."
"Intercept, best speed," Tirqwin ordered.
Scotty said, "I think it's time we got into gear, Aurora."
"No need for that," Tirqwin said, irritated.
"I think there is. If space is that distorted, Khediva won't be able to transport accurately. That means we'll have to dock manually. Which means there's a chance we could be boarded by hostiles. Whaddya expect me to do, start brewing tea for them?"
Tirqwin narrowly refrained from rolling his eyes, torn between exasperation and a strange sense of gratitude. It was a familiar feeling whenever Scotty behaved in a way that reminded Tirqwin of the original. Tirqwin was pleased that, even though he had basically been raised by Miahns the second time, Scotty had managed to keep his ruthless practicality.
Aurora gave Tirqwin a sympathetic smile. "I think he is probably right," she said.
"I find it highly suspicious," Tirqwin said with mock sternness, "that he only seems to remember things that enable him to win arguments."
Scotty gave a shout of laughter but didn't try for a rebuttal as he headed for the room he'd occupied while living aboard Khediva. Aurora paused to exchange a glance of exasperated indulgence with Tirqwin before following.
——————————
The area of disturbed space was growing in fits and starts, not in any controlled way, and Khediva barely managed to manually grapple the crippled ship and drag it to a safe distance without becoming mired in the distortions herself. There were several white-knuckled moments for Tirqwin, while Scotty and Aurora watched, helpless and yet hoping their chance to be useful would not arise.
"I have lifesigns," Khediva announced, when she reached the area she judged to be safe, at least for a while.
Scotty unholstered his blaster and started for the airlock, until Tirqwin waved an annoyed hand at him.
"Indications of distress, Khediva?" Tirqwin asked.
"I think..." Khediva trailed off. When she spoke again, her voice was sharp with alarm. "Tirqwin, these are Reissians!"
"Reissians!" Scotty echoed in horror. "I thought they were holed up in their own space!"
"They are in distress," Khediva said. "So much so that it took time to identify them. I recommend you go aboard and administer what aid you can, so that we may ascertain what they are doing here. I do not like finding them where we expected Malvarak."
Tirqwin's expression drew into a tight mask. "Yes," he said. "Scotty, you and I will go. Aurora, please remain here in case they get past us."
Aurora accepted the plan with a nod. "They will not get the Wayship, sir."
Tirqwin smiled briefly at her, pleased that she understood him. Then he looked at Scotty. "Let us go."
"Right in front of you," Scotty grinned, ducking into the airlock.
"Stun, Scotty," Tirqwin urged, following him. "We need answers."
"Right. Contrary to popular belief, I don't find it amusing to blow holes in people. Even Reissians," Scotty remarked.
Tirqwin looked like he was about to apologize, then thought better of it. They waited for the airlock to cycle before proceeding into the other ship, then waited for that inner door to go through its safety protocols. "Have you ever been aboard a Reissian ship?" Tirqwin asked.
"Haven't ever met one in person," Scotty replied. "I spent my time fighting them in space. How about you?"
"The same," Tirqwin said.
"Well, this oughta be a red-letter day, then," Scotty said. "I always pictured them as demons. I guess because they killed my father."
"Do not oversimplify," Tirqwin said. "We do not understand them, because we do not know much about them. Do not make assumptions."
"These people spent months trying to stick knives in my sister, and did stick a knife in my father. I don't need to make assumptions," Scotty said darkly.
They didn't speak as the inner door opened and they stepped warily onto the ship's deckplates. The air was thick and foul-smelling; Scotty recognized the acrid scent of a shipboard fire somewhere nearby. He accessed the controls on his combat suit helmet and noted that the air was fast turning toxic. "Don't breathe much," he told Tirqwin.
"I am trying not to. It is unpleasant. The only lifesigns Khediva is still reading are in the forward section."
"Probably the bridge," Scotty said. "Let's go."
They found bodies periodically, sprawled in the corridors. Some of them showed burns; others were disfigured in horrifying, unidentifiable ways, as if they had been taken apart and put back together by someone who knew nothing of anatomy. Scotty was surprised to note how humanoid they were, though their heavy features reminded him of bears somehow.
As they got closer to the ship's bow, some of the bodies began to look like suicides. Scotty stopped to peer at someone who had evidently thrust a knife into his own chest, his hands still wrapped around the blade's handle. His eyes were frozen wide open in horror. He was otherwise uninjured. "What do you suppose got to him?" Scotty wondered aloud.
"The conditions aboard must have been quite chaotic," Tirqwin said. "Perhaps his mind snapped."
Khediva's voice sounded over Scotty's helmet com. "This ship is carrying a definite trace of Pharon crystal resonance. We should not remain in contact with it long."
"We're hurrying," Scotty assured her.
"Reissians at Pharo," Tirqwin mused grimly.
"No good can come of that," Scotty agreed.