Starborne

“Only insofar as it keeps me from leaving the ship,” he says. “The work itself isn’t anything I object to. I simply accept it as something I have to do.”

She turns toward him, giving him that forthright straight-in-the-eyes look of hers that so eerily seems to deny the fact other blindness. “If one of the others had been elected year-captain,” she says, “then you and I wouldn’t be meeting like this any more. I would be getting briefings from Julia or Paco or Heinz about the messages to send to Earth.”

That startles him. He hadn’t considered that possibility at all.

“I’m glad that didn’t happen. I would miss you,” she says. “I like being with you very much.”

Her quietly uttered words unsettle him tremendously. The statement is too simple, too childlike, to carry with it any deeper meaning. Of that he is certain, or at least wants to be certain. She has said it as though they are playmates and this is their daily game, the loss of which she would regret. And yet she is not a child, is she? She is a woman, twenty-six years old, a beautiful and intelligent and mysterious woman. I like being with you very much. Yes. Yes. The simple straightforward phrase makes something stir in him, something disturbing and turbulent and troublesome, the strength of which is all out of keeping with the i

Noelle getting her briefings from Heinz — Noelle and Paco—

There is some sort of leap of co

All these wild thoughts astound him. He finds himself suddenly lost in a vortex of crazy nonsense.

Nothing is going on, he tells himself. Not that it should matter to you one way or the other.

Noelle leads a life of complete chastity. There are no probable alternatives. She comes occasionally to the baths, yes — everyone does that — and sits there unselfconsciously naked in the steamy tub, but what of it? She does not flirt. She does not join in the cheerfully bawdy byplay, the double entendres and open solicitations, of the baths. She has never been known to go into one of the little adjacent rooms with anyone. On board this ship she lives like a nun. She has always lived that way. Very likely she is a virgin, even, the year-captain thinks.

A virgin. Strange medieval concept. The word itself seems bizarrely antiquated. No doubt thereare such creatures somewhere — past the age of twelve or thirteen, that is. But one doesn’t ever give them much thought, any more than one thinks about unicorns.

Whatever else she may be, Noelle is certainly an island unto herself. She and faraway Yvo

What in God’s name is happening here?

This is all craziness. His head is full, suddenly, of absurd puerile speculations and suspicions and theories. He is behaving exactly like the lovesick adolescent that he never was. Why? Why? He wonders just how much Noelle means to him. Certainly she fascinates him. Is he in love with her, then? At the very least, her strangely impersonal beauty exerts a powerful effect on him. Does he want to go to bed with her? Then go to bed with her, he tells himself. If she’s interested, of course. If she is not in literal truth the nun he was just imagining her to be.

The year-captain is grateful now for Noelle’s blindness, which keeps her from seeing the way his face must look as all this stuff goes coursing through his mind.

As he struggles to regain his equilibrium, she says, “Is there anything wrong?”

She can tell. Of course. She doesn’t need to see his face. She is equipped with a horde of secret built-in receptors that bring her a steady stream of messages about the way he is breathing, the chemical substances that are flowing from his pores, and all the other little physiological betrayals of internal psychological states that a sufficiently keen observer is able to detect even without eyesight. The naturally augmented auxiliary senses of the blind.

“I was just thinking,” he says, not entirely dishonestly, “that I would miss these sessions with you too. Very much, as a matter of fact.”

“But we don’t have to miss them now.”

“No. We don’t.”

He takes her hand between his and presses it there, lightly, for a moment. A small gesture of mild affection, nothing more. Then he suggests they get down to work.

“I’ve been getting mental static again,” she says.

“You have? Since when?” He is glad that the subject is changing, but this is a jarring, unwelcome shift.

“It began during the night. A feeling like a veil coming over my mind. Coming between me and Yvo

“But you can still reach her?”

“I haven’t tried. I suppose so. But I thought everything was better, and now—”

“We’ve been travelling between stars the past few months,” he points out. “Now we’re getting close to one again.”

“When I was on Earth,” Noelle says, “I was only ninety-three million miles from a star, and Yvo

“Even when you were as far apart as you could get on Earth,” he says, “you and your sister were standing side by side, compared to the distances between you out here.”

“I still don’t think distance has anything much to do with it. I think it’s something co

The time has arrived now to emerge from nospace and set about reaching a decision about whether to attempt a landing on the world that Zed Hesper has labeled Planet A. Now is the moment when they will discover whether the Wotan can indeed jump in and out of nospace in any controllable way; and once that test is behind them, they will be able to learn whether the information that Zed Hesper’s instruments have brought them — all that impossibly detailed data about stars and planets and atmospheric composition and polar ice-caps — constitutes a genuine report on real components of the real universe, or is merely a set of imaginary constructs having no more co

Julia has the responsibility for the first part of the business, bringing the starship out of nospace. Accomplishing that is mostly a matter of giving the drive intelligence the appropriate orders in the appropriate command sequence, and then giving the command — in the presence of the year-captain, and with him supplying the proper official countersign — that activates the whole series of orders. And then waiting to see whether what happens next is anything like what is supposed to happen.