"That ... you've chosen well. That you'll be ... very careful." He swallowed, then rumbled in his pocket.

"Here, I'd like to give you something." He brought out a thin gold chain, with a small, luminous stone on it. "This was from Deira, to me. She said it was to help me remember our time in the net together.

Well ..." he cleared his throat nervously - Jael had never seen him so fidgety before - "I'd like you to have it as a keepsake. Sort of a good luck charm. And a way of saying, I hope it works out all right for you ... out there." He held the chain out to her, his gaze wide and earnest.

She hesitated, then opened her palm and slowly closed it around the cool metal chain, the stone. For a moment, she almost forgave him for the other night, but the weight of her anger was too great, and her fear over what she was about to do too strong. She could find no words to say any of that, so instead she said, "Okay. Thanks. And now, I really have to go."

"Good trip, Jael."She sighed and nodded. Then she turned and strode, then ran, up the hill toward the multidorm and her quarters.

She set her bag on the ground and looked up at the starship. It was a modest-sized floater: silver-grey, shaped like a flared, flattened teardrop. It drooped like a guppy's belly in the middle and was festooned with a variety of protrusions for maneuvering units and flux-field and rigger-net projectors. The name Ca.s.sandra was painted in black just above the bulge of the flux-field reactors, but the letters were well worn by the elements of s.p.a.ce and atmosphere, as were the identifying numerals amidships. It looked like a st.u.r.dy enough vessel, though one could hardly tell much by external appearances. Still, the service log had seemed acceptable, more carefully annotated than she had expected from an unregulated shipper; and the owner was flying with her, as captain, which provided some incentive for good maintenance. Perhaps her worries about substandard equipment, at least, were unjustified. The s.p.a.ceport service crew had just driven away as she had walked up. She would check over the rigger controls herself before departure.

Jael strode to the base of the ship where it nested in the docking cradles. The outer door of the entry lock was open, at the top of a short ramp. She stepped into the airlock and searched the door panel for the communication switch. "Jael LeBrae. Request permission to come aboard."

There was a short silence. Then a staticky voice answered, "Come on up to the bridge, Jael. Top level.

Seal the lock when you come."

She touched the appropriate switches and stepped into the ship. The outer hatch, then inner hatch, hissed closed. She glanced around at the power deck; the ladder up was in a pool of light, spilling down from deck two. She slung her bag strap over her shoulder and climbed. The next level was a second engineering deck. She located and climbed one more ladder, and stepped off into a tight, ring-shaped hallway. It took only a moment to figure out the layout. In the center of the ring was the commons area; several other doors around the outer circ.u.mference of the hall were living quarters. Around the circle to her right was the entrance to the bridge.

Mogurn emerged from the bridge and greeted her. "Put your bag in the first cabin, then come join me on the bridge. We're checking out for flight." He turned and disappeared again.

Jael pressed the entry plate on the next door beyond the bridge. When the door paled, she walked through it into the cabin. It was small and spare: a bunk, a fold-down chair, and a tiny lavatory. All perfectly standard, perfectly Spartan. She stepped back out into the hallway, opaqued the door, and hurried to the bridge.

It was dimly lit, but filled with illuminated displays, Mogurn was seated at the front, his back to her; he was inspecting a thicket of instruments, mostly normal-s.p.a.ce gear and remotes from the rigger-nets.

There were two Seiki-model rigger-stations, one flanking either side of the bridge: couches recessed into tight, horizontal alcoves. That was where she would do her flying. Two rigger-stations, one rigger. The second station was a backup, or possibly where a co-rigger would fly, if there were one. It was hard to tell at a glance; the variety in ship and rigger-station design was almost endless. Some setups were complex, like tall-masted ships of the sea, requiring several riggers working in perfect harmony; others were compact and without frills, perfect for single riggers. She fleetingly wondered if Mogurn might be cutting corners, using only one rigger where two were optimal. Such a thing was not unheard of, especially among unreg - but never mind that, she thought. What sensible owner would endanger a valuable ship and cargo in order to save one rigger's salary?

"Go ahead and familiarize yourself with the setup," Mogurn said, glancing up into a small mirror. "I'll be through here in a few minutes."Jael nodded and began looking over the instrumentation near the starboard rigger-station, which was marked as the primary station. She could inspect a station in her sleep if she had to, which was a good thing, because suddenly it was. .h.i.tting home that she was about to depart for deep s.p.a.ce with a man she scarcely knew, and whose credentials were marginal at best. She had flown solo before, yes, but never in such an unprotected fashion. Not that she was concerned for her own personal safety; there were implicit guarantees, even with men like Mogurn.

There had been a time when a female rigger might not have dared to board a ship like this, to be isolated with a man of unknown character for days or weeks at a rime. But over many decades of starship rigging, the loss of too many ships had proven one thing: the fragile balance of sensitivity, imagination, and control that enabled a rigger to steer through the Flux was easily destroyed. Whatever the treatment of unemployed riggers planetside, the well-being of a rigger in flight was considered sacrosanct. Even the unlicensed shippers acknowledged that fact. Even Jael's own father had recognized it.

These rea.s.surances flickered through her mind as she ran through her checklist on the rigger-station. It was important to make herself ready for flight, as well as her station. The worries of the world, of the rigger halls and the s.p.a.ceports, had to be purged from her thoughts. The sooner her head was clear, the smoother and safer the flight would be.

"We're bound for Lexis on the first leg," Mogurn remarked, without turning. "Bypa.s.sing the mountain route, of course."

"Ah," Jael said, searching her memories for what she'd learned in training about that route. Oh, yes ...

"No point in getting into any trouble with ... unnecessary hazards ... on that mountain route, is there?"

Mogurn added.

"I guess not," Jael murmured. There were legends about the route from decades of rigging, but perhaps no more than with any of a hundred other unusual regions, each replete with legends. What was it here?

Dragons, as she recalled. Nothing to worry her.

"No. No point in getting into trouble," Mogurn said. He was still busy at the nose of the bridge, and for a few moments, neither of them spoke. Jael continued her checkout. Then he asked, "You do know the route, don't you?"

Jael paused. She had never flown to Lexis, but she knew the essentials of the route, the library hypno-briefings on the various currents of the Flux. She said as much to Mogurn.

He turned in his seat and gazed at her. "Well, I've been that way many times. So even if you're the rigger and I'm not, I trust you'll accept some guidance in the matter of navigation."

She blinked. "Of course," she said, shrugging.

"Good." Mogurn turned back to his panels. "Just so you know. The mountains are dangerous. I'll expect you to keep me informed."

As if she wouldn't do that anyway, she thought, checking the last of the instruments on the outside of the station. She leaned in to peer at the actual flight readouts. "All right if I -"

"Go ahead. It's part of your checklist isn't it?"

"Yes." She slid into the alcove, reclining on her back on the couch. Squirming into a comfortable position, she allowed the nape of her neck to touch the neural contacts in the neckrest, and she waited for the tingle which confirmed that she was in contact with the dormant net control. She focused her eyeson the instruments over her head and began bringing power to the control system. After a few moments, she closed her eyes and allowed the tingle of the system to spread into her limbs and into her mind.

She felt herself surrounded by darkness. She reached into the sensory net with imaginary hands and tested it, probing at its limits to see how it felt. The net was still confined within the s.p.a.cecraft hull - it would be extended fully only after they were in s.p.a.ce - but its form was sufficient for testing. She stretched the arms of her imagination against the darkness, and her inner eye sketched out lines of perspective against that darkness, lines that gave shape to the nons.p.a.ce surrounding her. As she explored the field with her mind, her physical body remained motionless on the couch. Once she was satisfied that the field was responding adequately to her thoughts, she withdrew from the net, withdrew back into her physical body.

She opened her eyes. The monitors overhead gave a reading of the field strengths she had used in this simple check, and the trial efficiencies of the field. She pursed her lips and nodded. It was well within acceptable limits.

There was a movement beside her, and she realized that Mogurn was standing beside the rigger-station.

He bent down and peered in. His eyes shifted back and forth, scrutinizing her. What was he doing - looking for flaws, for signs of weakness? His eyes, close up, looked bloodshot and rheumy. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Seems to be," she said, running her fingers over the monitor faces. It made her uncomfortable to be stared at. There was no reason why he shouldn't observe her, of course; he had a right to know if his ship was in capable hands.

"Good. We'll be lifting soon. You have anything you need to do before I call for the tow?" Mogurn asked.

"May I have a minute in my cabin?"

Mogurn straighted up. "Of course. I'll make the call now. It'll take them a few minutes to get to us, I imagine."

As she slipped out of the rigger-station, he was leaning back in his command seat, watching her. She could not read his expression, but she was aware of his gaze on her back as she walked off the bridge.

In her cabin, she spent a few minutes stowing the contents of her duffel and poking around in the drawers and compartments. She paused to gaze at herself in the tiny wall mirror. Her face looked a little drawn, she thought, and her flyaway brown hair needed brushing. But her hazel eyes were clear and determined; or at least, they seemed that way when she frowned at herself and thought,You're committed now. It doesn't matter whether you were smart or not. Just do the job and do it right, and it'll be okay in the end.She tried to smile. The expression looked foolish to her.

Enough. Time to make ready for s.p.a.ce.

"Jael, is your station set?" Mogurn asked, from the nose of the bridge.

"Set," she answered, looking up at the monitors one more time. There was really nothing for her to do at this point but enjoy the ride and keep a watch on the systems for later.

"TowJuliette , this isCa.s.sandra . At your convenience," Mogurn said.

She couldn't see him from where she lay in the rigger-station, but in the monitor, she could see the tow ship as it approached Mogurn's ship from overhead. It looked like a thin four-legged spider droppingdown on an invisible silk thread. Soon it blocked the overhead view as it settled atopCa.s.sandra and latched with a barely perceptible b.u.mp. Then Jael felt a vibration under her couch as the landing dock freed the ship. A moment later, a weight pressed lightly upon her as they lifted free of the ground and began to climb. In one monitor she could see the ground falling away; in another, she could see the globes at the ends of the spider's legs glowing red, then orange. Those were the Circadie s.p.a.ce inductors that would propel them into orbit and take them well away from the planetary ma.s.s of Gaston's Landing, far enough away to begin the rest of the voyage under their own power.

A few moments after liftoff, the ship's gravity fields came up on internal power, and the feeling of weight on her chest subsided. The monitors confirmed, however, that the true acceleration was increasing. The curvature of the planet became visible as the sky turned black, and Jael wished her homeworld a silent farewell.

Minutes later, the planet was visible as an enormous ball in s.p.a.ce, shrinking as they left their orbit behind.

Jael felt exhilaration rising in her breast as the ship and its tow accelerated across the emptiness of the planetary system, the stars brightly beckoning before them. It was a good feeling, a true rigger feeling, the almost primal joy of bursting the bonds of planetary life, of expanding outward, stretching, reaching. And as she watched it all happen in her monitors, she began to trace the Flux indicators, the signs that would tell her when it was safe to submerge the ship for the real journey. And she began to imagine the coming entry into the Flux, to prepare in her own mind for what was to come.

Five.

Captain Mogurn.

"You're on your own,Ca.s.sandra. Have a good flight."

"We are clear,Juliette. Thank you."

Jael was aware of Mogurn's voice on the communicator; and she was aware of the tow's s.p.a.ce inductors changing color as it altered course and broke away; and she was aware of the tow dwindling and disappearing into the night, just as the planet had. But mostly she was aware of the dormant field tingling around her as she prepared for Mogurn's okay. Her mind was filled with an expectation of images, of landscapes.

"Jael, are you ready?" came Mogurn's voice directly in her ear-com.

"On your signal."

"Are you familiarized with the course?"

She frowned at the monitor where she'd been reviewing the navigational library information. "As clear as I can be without actually taking us in there."

There was a movement nearby, and she realized that Mogurn had walked back to peer directly down into her rigger-station. She shifted her eyes in his direction, but only for a moment. It was more important to keep an even keel mentally than to respond directly to his presence. She sensed Mogurn returning to his seat at the front. "Very well," she heard. "Set course for Lexis. At your discretion, rigger."

Her eyes closed and she felt her own lips tracing a smile. The sensory net sprang to life around her, filled her with energy. She relaxed as her bodily senses darkened. Her inner senses threaded their way into the net and reached outward into s.p.a.ce. Altering the shape of the net with unspoken commands, she sankher fingernails into the fabric of s.p.a.ce itself, and without fanfare, drew the s.p.a.ceship into the realm that would carry it to the stars. It was the energy of the flux-pile that did the work, of course, but she guided the flow of the energy. Silently, swiftly, like a swimmer upending herself and stroking downward into the depths of a sea, she left behind the cold emptiness of normal-s.p.a.ce, and swam down through the shifting multidimensional layers of s.p.a.ce-time, down into the currents of the Flux. And she towed the starship along behind her.

What she saw next was a synthesis of her own intuition and the reality of the s.p.a.cetime topography that she had just entered. She and the starship were floating in a sea of turquoise mist, translucent and cool. It was an undersea color, but the mist was airy and swirling, and it shifted like cirriform clouds touched by a high jetstream. Jael extended her arms like wings - strong limbs that were at once imaginary and real - and she stroked the mists as they pa.s.sed her by, until she began to sense the wind direction and currents.

She stretched her wings a bit wider and felt them bite into the current, and she executed a slow bank to her left and caught sight of what looked like a lemon-lime sunset in the distance. That, she knew instantly and intuitively, was where she wanted to go.

That knowledge was all she needed. She caught the wind, and she and the starship took flight upon the streams of s.p.a.ce.

Jael, how are you doing in there?Mogurn's voice reached her through the net, through the ghostly presence of the com-signal.

I feel good. It's going well.She had been flying for a couple of hours already. The mists had given way to a clear tangerine sky. Smudges of charcoal cloudiness in the sky indicated distant presences, perhaps the a.n.a.logs of stars or nebulas in the adjoining regions of normal-s.p.a.ce. She had turned the starship into an image of a broad-winged airplane, and she was steering a course well clear of all such disturbances.

It's time you came out for a while. I don't want you getting fatigued. Are you in a clear stretch?

Can you leave the net?

Jael considered.Pretty clear. I guess so. She felt reluctant to leave it behind. But she knew that his instructions were probably wise. It would not do to push too far, especially since the flight was just beginning. Still ...

Do so, then. Set your stabilizers.Mogurn's voice was calm but unequivocal.

Doing so now, she sighed. It took only a moment to adjust the net's stabilizers. Like a sea-anchor, they would keep the ship drifting quietly and safely during her absence. She pulled her imaginary arms back to her sides and withdrew from the net.

With a blink, she focused on the monitors overhead. Her physical senses returned to her gradually, as she became aware of light entering her eyes and the weight of her body pressing down on the couch. She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Only after she felt that she had really returned to her body did she climb out of the rigger-station.

The bridge seemed like a small chamber of arcane technology after the free open s.p.a.ces of the net.

Mogurn rose from his seat at the nose and turned to face her. "The readings look smooth and stable.

That tells me that you are flying skillfully," he said. "But we must not overdo it. Besides, I have something for you now - a sort of reward for work well done." He smiled broadly.

A reward for work well done? she thought. Work well done was its own reward. Then she remembered his promise, back at the s.p.a.ceport. Something about a learning method."But perhaps you'd like to eat first," Mogurn said. He pursed his lips. "Yes. We will eat first. And then you will experience ... thepallisp. You will enjoy it, I think. And as for what it will do for your rigging ability ..." He shrugged, and his smile widened.

Pallisp? She opened her mouth to ask, "What is ..."

But Mogurn wasn't listening. He gestured toward the exit and followed her off the bridge and to the commons in the center of the ship's circle. "What would you like, Jael?" he asked, gesturing toward the auto-food panels. "Are you hungry? How about ... oh, some nicely crisped carrot-fish?" Before Jael could answer, he nodded, to himself and touched several b.u.t.tons. The smell of frying fish filled the commons.

Jael shrugged. Fish was all right with her, she supposed. While Mogurn fussed with the settings, she sat at the round table in the center of the room and watched. He drew a gla.s.s of what looked like a straw-colored ale and turned. "This is nonalcoholic. Would you like some, Jael?"

"Yes, please," she said, wondering if any other response would have made any difference.

Mogurn drew a second gla.s.s and placed it in front of her. A minute later, the food panel whispered open, and he pulled out two steaming dinner plates. "Here we are. I think you'll like this."

Jael waited until Mogurn had taken a bite from his own plate before she tentatively lifted a fork and tried a bite of the fish. It looked more like crisped cheese; it tasted like a flavorless vegetable with a breadlike texture. But, she thought, it was no worse than what they served at the rigger halls. And it was food.

Mogurn ate quickly and without conversation. He hummed softly to himself, reaching up occasionally to stroke the back of his neck. When he looked in Jael's direction, he didn't seem to see her; it was as though he were looking at something beyond her, beyond the walls of the room. That was all right; she was happy enough to be silent with her own thoughts. Mogurn, hardly to her surprise, seemed a rather self-absorbed person. She doubted that he would be very good company even if he spoke.

She was only halfway through her meal when Mogurn rose, leaving his dishes and utensils on the table.

He pointed to a black panel and said, "The dirty things go in there. When you're finished tidying up, come to my cabin. It's the second door after yours." In response to her surprised expression, he added, "Don't be long, please." And then he turned, his robe swirling, and left the commons.

Jael stared after him and scowled at what was left of her dinner, which now seemed unappetizing. She started to formulate a reply - that she was employed as a rigger, not as a housekeeper - but cut the thought short. It would do no good to be angry about it. She had to live with Mogurn for the rest of the trip, and she hadn't expected him to be perfect. Perhaps she ought to count her blessings and enjoy the aspect of the flight which was her reason for being here - the rigging, the dreamlike freedom of the net.

The thought calmed her enough to take a few more bites, before she decided that she was no longer hungry. She drank some of the ale, then carried everything from the table to the disposal panel. A soft whine told her that the processing unit had accepted her offering and was tidying up.

She stood, looking around the room, wishing that she could simply return to the net and continue flying.

But she remembered Mogurn's instructions. Don't be long. Very well, then. She would go to the captain's cabin, and she would see what this "pallisp" business was all about.

The corridor was virtually silent, only the whisper of the air circulator breaking the stillness. She found Mogurn's cabin door - the ship was so small that it was only a few steps to any compartment - and stood before it for several moments, thinking. Then she pressed the signal plate. The door paled and she stepped into Mogurn's cabin.It was larger than hers, and expensively appointed. A crystal tapestry adorned one wall; it gleamed and twinkled before her eyes, fragments of colored light dancing within it. Beneath the tapestry was a bench-seat. Across the room from the door, Mogurn sat in a velour-covered chair, smoking. He did not look directly at her, but she sensed nevertheless that he was watching her. He exhaled a plume of sharp-scented smoke and waved his long, tubular smoking pipe. "You have come, Jael. Sit." He gestured toward the bench-seat.

Jael obeyed. She looked at him uneasily. For a moment, he made no move to shift from his apparently comfortable position; then he turned his head to gaze at her. "Have you found the course clear and easy to visualize, so far?" he asked.

She inclined her head slightly. "So far."

"And have you sighted the mountains along the route?"

She shook her head. "No mountains yet. I sense some change coming in the landscape. But it's too far away to tell what they are."

"Yes, well ..." he drew a breath of smoke and exhaled. The smoke eddied up around the ceiling before it was drawn away, gradually, by the ventilators. "That would be the mountains, I expect. You may not see them as mountains, precisely, but that is how it has most often been described to me."

She nodded. She was familiar with the navigational charts. There ought to be no problem.

"You will find danger in those mountains," Mogurn warned, and for a moment his eyes glinted with some unspoken tension. "The way around them to Lexis is longer. But it is safer, and therefore to be preferred."

"Yes," she answered. "As we spoke of before."