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Exordium: DESRIEN "I hate this blungesuck of a cesspit," Marim snarled, kicking at some kind of greenery growing alongside the pathway. Fronds scattered across the dirt before her, leaving a sharp scent in the air that made her sneeze. She looked down at her toes and saw sticky greenish goo on them. "Gaah!" she squawked, grubbing her toes into the dirt to clean them. Then she noticed small wiggly things scrabbling wildly in the dirt she'd dug up, and she gave a bellow of disgust. "I hate dirtside, and this place ranks the worst," she wailed. Everything about planets offended her. The smells in the unfiltered air, the disgusting way things degraded, and worst of all were the bugs. Something touched her shoulder. She started and looked. It was Ivard, his face blank, writhing his arms and head weirdly. He honked at her. Marim grimaced and sprinted ahead, shuddering, but Ivard didn't follow her. Ugh! I bunnied with that? Ahead, Vi'ya walked along the pathway with the rapid stalk that indicated her own mood was bad. But she did not look back, or say anything. And right on her shadow were the Eya'a. Marim couldn't guess what they thought--and she had no wish to find out. Who could she complain to? Lokri was with them again, but his mood was even more vile than Vi'ya's, and he refused to talk to anyone at all. Marim veered, catching a glimpse of him walking at the very end of the straggling line, his arms folded and a grim look on his face. His eyes stayed straight forward. Jaim, following just behind Marim, also did not speak, but unlike Lokri he scanned back and forth, breathing deeply. He had grown up on Rifthaven, and dirtballs spinning around suns were just as alien for him as for her. But he really seemed to like weather and the unplanned clutter of geography. And he didn't seem to notice the rot or the myriad tiny creatures doing their best to eat him, she thought irritably, slapping at a tickle on her cheek. As for that cursed Schoolboy -- damn him anyway, for cheating her out of that coin -- she hoped he looked as sour as he usually did. His father was huffing and puffing, and Montrose smiling. As for the Arkad, who knew -- or cared -- what he thought? He's a prisoner, just the same as us, she thought with mean satisfaction as the greenery cleared away before a tall stone building. She liked the Arkad as a person, thought he was attractive and entertaining, but ever since Nukiel's nicks had grabbed the Telvarna, Brandon was no longer Vi'ya's tame nick, he was one of them. You could see they all thought so. Including him. Only he was the worst kind of nick, one with a flashy title but no actual power. He couldn't get them freed, so she hoped he suffered too. Fair's fair. Ahead, Vi'ya hauled on one of the big doors into the building and walked in. The others followed. Of course they had to go in. But Marim sidled glances here and there; with any luck, this place would lull those Shiidra- chatzing Marine guards into looking at the sights, and she could skip out altogether. Telvarna can be flown single, she thought with satisfaction. I know. I rewired that myself. She felt a brief reluctance. She'd miss Lokri, even in his radioactive mood. And Montrose. And Vi'ya. Though she wasn't much company, she was a decent captain, and Marim loved watching her in action. And then it was a jolt to think of leaving behind her share of the take from the sale of the Palace artifacts. But then the nicks might just latch onto that money; she didn't believe in all the blunge about them only taking outlawed or smuggled goods. She knew they'd gone over the ship from bow to radiants, removing anything they considered illegal by their inexplicable lights. Some of it she could attribute to outright thievery -- except they didn't take everything, which made little sense. She would have stripped it clean if she'd been them. But right now the guards were vigilant, so she couldn't linger and duck aside. Inside, the others stopped, and it took her a moment to realize that they were reacting not from imminent danger, but simply from the size of the building. She glanced upward, at the vaulted groins curving overhead, and then away; to someone who had lived in an environment whose dimensions measured in kilometers, this building was just a typical dirtbound construct, small and gloomy. Mutters of awe, made in hushed tones, banished her annoyance. Watching the others stare upward tickled her humor. She wished suddenly that they were all at the Scerren habitat, looking at some real dimension. A small woman dressed in black approached. Marim sneaked a look at the guards. They were watching the woman. She grinned, then turned around to look the place over for possibilities. Spotting a narrow door on the other side, she sauntered toward it, quickening her step when she saw narrow stairs within. The belltower! Wouldn't these robed blits keep their treasure up high? (And wouldn't they have a treasure? Her vague recollection of religious folk was that they were enormously wealthy.) Bounding up the long series of steps, she arrived, breathless, to discover a huge room with many bronze bells clustered overhead. There was nothing to be seen in the room but the ropes running to the bells, disappearing through the floor, and around her four windows looking out on the disgusting greenery clogging the landscape, all random and unkempt. Disappointed, she clambered down again, to find that the others had hardly moved. Here and there she heard the murmurs of conversation, but the tone--quiet, awed, angry--did not interest her. Scanning the ready guards once again, she headed toward a long, narrow wooden bench and stretched herself full length on it. Staring up at the light-touched stones overhead, she decided to take a nap. The planet was repulsive, the people dull, and she felt sleepy. And what could be less suspicious than a sleeping prisoner? Maybe I'll wake up and find that they've forgotten about me, she thought. Not that she really believed it--but it was a pleasant thought. Anyway, she could worry about escape later. She shut her eyes. The dream began at once. She was aware of a ripple of surprise that she had fallen asleep so swiftly, and that the dream was so vivid. But then she saw where she was, and stretched out her dream- arms: she was home again. It didn't matter that she'd run off the first chance she got, anyone would, to escape the debt-load she'd run up without meaning to. Anyway I wanted ships, and freedom, and I've got that. So a visit home can be fun. It's only a visit. She scanned the outer rim, with its carefully planned agricultural areas, parks and green-lined ways between the buildings. Bug free, all of it, and the green things growing where they did some good. She thought about her creche, but what she really wanted to see was the free-fall kiting park up at the spin axis. Breezing upward past a fantastically constructed nuller palace, she saw old Benewel hovering above one of his windows, looking at her. She looked away quickly. She'd never liked those nullers. They lived too long, they saw too much. And most of them were rich as any nick, which compounded their repulsiveness. She remembered when her creche had gone to visit Benewel to hear stories about the building of Scerren. He'd watched her, those old eyes missing nothing among the mass of wrinkles that were his face, and then he'd made her sit in the front while he told some silly stories about Lost Earth. One in particular was really stupid, about some boy who flew too high, ruined his wings, and smashed up. Marim snorted. Anyone knew it was flying too low, towards the higher gee areas below the spin axis, that was dangerous. She shrugged away the memory. Planets were different, upside down, even -- one more reason to avoid them. "You there, creche-rat," Benewel called, his voice strong, and not old and rusty like she remembered. "You want to live long, like me?" "Leave me be, you old carcass," she yelled back. "I done nothing to you." Benewel cackled. "It's your creche I'm thinkin' of," he said. Though she was trying to get past him as quickly as possible, his voice followed her. "You stay with them, you stay by them, you live. You stay away from those Dayda-Loos, you live longer." Dayda-Loos--someone got them? She exulted. The best freefall wings made, usually only those as rich as Benewel could afford them. She put on a burst of speed, heading upward. Surprised, she saw that in the time she had been gone someone had moved her creche up to the spin axis. Her creche? Why was it up here? Unless they'd finally figured out that this was where all the fun was, not down there where all you did was work. As she approached the familiar doors to the creche, she saw that no one was around. It seemed odd: usually there was a crowd of children of various ages playing in and around it. She found herself scanning for her old mates. What had the old rodent said? Something about her creche-mates? She felt a moment of confusion, as she thought of Shral with the long black hair, and silver-eyed Norb, and little Jurgan with his ugly red freckles...Except Jurgan didn't have freckles, and Shral's hair was short and dyed green, wasn't it? Confusion made her dizzy. She hated that sensation, and anyway, the creche could take care of itself. She had those Dayda-Loos to fivefinger before someone else got to them. She burst into the creche, which was empty except for her old creche-mother. "Nanna," Marim exclaimed in surprise. It had been years, but Nanna hadn't changed. "Mari," Nanna said, holding out her arms. Marim hugged her fiercely, but then let her go and spun around. "We got Loos? Show me! Show me quick before the others net them and I never get my turn." "I made them for you," Nanna said, smiling. "My favorite." Marim laughed. "You told me the only way out of Scerren was to grab the future, and I grabbed it good, along with Tee-Kyung's courier ship. But here I am again, and you know, I like the spin axis. I want to go flying again." "We'll go together," Nanna said. "See! I got some Loos for you, and some for me." Marim looked behind Nanna and saw the shining wings resting on the floor, two pairs, a small one and a large. "Put them on! Put them on!" Marim jumped up and down. "You must listen to the instructions," Nanna said, her fingers working quickly. "They're faster than the old Hlains you're used to. There's danger..." "Well, tell me as we go," Marim said, impatient to step to the edge of their platform and dive. Nanna talked, but Marim kept her eyes on the spread of the wings, the whine of the servos augmenting and stabilizing her movements. They stepped to the edge of the platform, holding hands, and dove. Marim soared downward, speed making her vision blur and her hair ruffle around her face. Nanna tugged at her fingers, and impatient to be free, Marim let go of the restraining hand. Her speed increased. She fell toward the faintly glowing diffusers stretching down the axis a half-kilometer below, like the pathways to hell. It was just sunset: the perfect time to fly. During the day, the diffusers set up unpredictable convection currents, even up here on the low-gee regions. She saw light fading to silver as she sped toward them--and before she was ready, she recognized the pattern of the diffusers' construction. She'd fallen fast. Arcing her back, she pulled up reluctantly, feeling drag at her limbs. A spark of fear thrilled through her: the speed really was greater than she'd ever experienced. Nanna caught up then, panting as she braked. "You can't dive like that," she cried. "That was close! You want to fall into the diffusers and be vaporized?" "I want speed," Marim said. "I want to go lower and faster. Why have Loos if we're going to poke around next to the creche like a pair of groundslugs?" "That's dangerous too," Nanna said, drifting close. "Marim, I trusted you with my only Loos--" There she goes, on again about the 'trust' and 'owe' and 'honesty' rules, Marim thought. All I want is speed. And pleasure. Nothing else means anything, it's all just yap, but pleasure, that's real. Turning her head, she called, "Nanna, I love you dearly, but your rules don't work." And she folded the wings close, dropping to pick up speed. Veering expertly, she laughed as she buzzed across the tops of people's heads on one of the catwalks between two swimming globes, and she sailed between two emporia, dodging signs and protrusions, then swooped upward again, the great wings beating. She passed through the axis, brought the wings in and dove straight for the diffusers. Faster...faster... Her acceleration increased as she dove away from the spin axis, air resistance matching her vector to the spin of the habitat, increasing the gee force. Tears stung her eyes, wind buffeted her body, her heart banged against her chest. I want pleasure, she thought. And with a fearful joy, This is the most powerful pleasure there is. How to use it? She had to push the limits, to know more about the Loos than anyone else. So instead of pulling up, she stayed just a little longer. I'll take these to Rifthaven, she thought. I'll say I invented them, and if I have their specs, who's to know? She looked back, saw Nanna laboring way behind, her mouth open as she called expostulations. She'll never leave here. She doesn't need these Loos. I do, so they're mine. The thought had distracted her too long. A real bite of fear coursed through her when she looked down nd saw the breadth of the diffusers. She could even see the mterial they were made of. Flinging her body into a braking maneuver, she twisted her neck, calculating a vector that would take her safely past them. I didn't mean to come so close, she thought, as if apologizing to somebody in authority who'd caught her. But nobody had--except the laws of physics. The serovs keened and then there was a snap at her left, and her body went into a spin as fragments of the broken wing spun away, accelerating toward the gap between the diffusers. One of them hit, and snapped out of existence. The reality shocked her. "Nooo," she screamed. "Nanna, get me! Stop me!" "Marim," came the sobbing cry far behind, the cry of the helpless. I don't want this end, Marim thought in despair and horror. Why can't I stop it? I've always bent the rules before-- The last wing threw her body into an arc straight through the vibrating diffusers, just as the last of the silvery light faded from them. Weird energies pulled at her, making her cries vibrate. Speed ripped at her, and death loomed in shadowy pain ahead. "I didn't, I didn't, I didn't mean it--" she screamed, endlessly, as the habitat rotated beneath her. She fell and fell, the useless broken wings flapping around her for kilometer after kilometer until the inner hull rushed up to smash her-- And with a wrench, she thumped against the back of the wooden seat. Her eyes flew open and her lungs sucked in air. Was that an echo of her screams still audible high up against the shadow ceiling? The dream's terror gripped her again, and she sobbed in relief. She didn't care, and no one seemed to be around anyway. She got to her feet. Her bones were shaking, and her left shoulder sent protesting zings of pain through her. She forced a laugh, glad she still had a body to hurt. And nobody was around. For a long moment she stood there, torn between two choices. She felt this terrible urge to find the others, to tell Ivard about the dream, to get Lokri to joke her out of the fear, to hear Vi'ya condemn dreams as mere foolishness, like ghosts and demons. I want to be with them, she thought. We can get away-- But they couldn't get away together. The guards would see them for certain. It's my chance, she thought. I can unseal that engine room, and have the five-skip up and running in no time. Telvarna can be mine. They'll be all right here, but I won't. She looked back inside the Cathedral, but it was just to scan once more for watchers. Seeing no one, she hurried toward the door, and freedom. Just as she reached it, one of the Marines seemd to materialize in front of her. "Stay," she ordered. Making a noise of disgust, Marim retraced her steps. She threw herself down onto her bench. Would she ever get another chance?
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