This one, though, seemed like it could be an asset at the moment.
I radioed Command. “How are those flights coming?”
“They’re in the air,” the Command staffer replied. “Working on the lightlance connections before they give the go-ahead to hyperjump.”
“Excellent.”
I closed my eyes again, trying to see if I could still find the ridges. They were faint but they were there, easier to recall now that I’d brought them up once.
Help! A faint whisper, calling to me through the nowhere. Help us, the voices said again. We want to help.
I sighed. I had no idea where those voices were coming from, much less if I should respond—
Listen, boy, another voice said.
Scud. That was—Gran-Gran?
She didn’t answer, but an image formed in my mind, clear as anything.
A picture of the portal in the library, the strange wall with the lines, the gateway into the nowhere.
Gran-Gran, I said. What happened when you appeared near the portal? Where are you?
She didn’t—or couldn’t—answer.
“Jerkface,” Steadman from Command said over my radio. “The flights are ready for hyperjump.”
“Good,” I said. Rig, how much longer do you think it will take you to figure out if we can move the platforms?
We’re going to need time, Rig said. I can’t tell you how much, but I can keep you posted.
And he could do it without a hypercomm now.
Okay, I said. I’ll check in.
I put a hand on Juno’s platform, and instructed Snuggles to take us to the beach on Evershore near the wreckage of my starfighter. We passed beneath the eyes, and then the sand of Evershore formed beneath my feet, the roaring of the ocean loud in my ears.
I reached toward Platform Prime, finding the taynix belonging to those flights. Corgi was among them, I thought, though I couldn’t remember the rest of their names. FM would know. She knew them all.
I gave the taynix a clear image of Snuggles. And a moment later three flights of ships—light-lanced together in three distinct groups—appeared over the sand, some of them extending out over the waves.
“Amphi,” I said over my radio, “I brought backup.”
“Platforms?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Three flights of ships. Can you get them up to speed?”
“Copy, Jerkface,” Arturo said.
My proximity sensors had been busted when the cytonic slashed their mindblades through my dash. I looked up at the dark sky, trying to read what was going on with the battle.
Scud, there were a lot of ships up there. Our side seemed to be holding their own, but we needed the backup badly.
Alanik, I said, status?
Rinakin is sending ships to support us. He says the kitsen alliance is worth the risk. I told him you were going to bring platforms from Detritus. Did I lie to him?
Rig is working on it, I said. Can you come support Arturo?
I’m on my way, Alanik said. I’ll come back for the flights after they’ve had a few minutes to prepare.
Good, I said. Keep me updated.
“Should we have brought you a new ship?” Juno asked.
“I’ll get one later,” I said. “Right now I need to have a look at that portal in your library.”
Seventeen
“The portal?” Juno said. “This seems like an odd time—”
“I know,” I said. “But I think it’s important.” My mindblades could help in the battle, but we needed more than that. We needed Cobb’s command expertise. We had to get him back in charge of this battle, of the war.
The medtechs would be crowded into the library with Gran-Gran and Cobb, and I didn’t want Snuggles to accidentally land us on top of one of the stretchers. Instead I put a hand on Juno’s platform and had Snuggles hyperjump us to a foothold I could see at the top of the cliffs. From this vantage I could see the staircase that led to the library, and I had Snuggles make a second jump to land us outside the domed doors.
I reached down below my knees for the handle, but found the door locked.
I knocked, and there was a scuffling inside.
A moment later the door cracked open. On the other side Cuna stooped down, looking out at us, and then opened the door the rest of the way. “I didn’t think that Winzik would knock,” they said. “But one can never be sure.”
“Not Winzik,” I said, crawling into the room.
Kel and Winnow knelt between the long tables, which had been scooted together so the stretchers holding Cobb and Gran-Gran could rest on top. Several of the kitsen doctors sat on the stretchers, helping the medtechs monitor Cobb and Gran-Gran, while their transport pilot, callsign: Zing, listened to the radio that was perched on a glass case filled with very small books. I could hear Arturo giving orders to the new flights. Hopefully the additional ships would help us hold out a while longer while Rig figured out the platform.