As he approached Rendezvous, piloting his wondrous water-and-pearl vessel, the Roamer cluster looked different to Jess. Perhaps it was the wentals inside his eyes: When he peered through the filmy walls of his ship, the asteroids flickered as if through a veil of tears. For Jess, the excitement and anticipation were palpable.
He had no idea if Cesca would be there or if by some miracle she wasn’t already married to Reynald of Theroc. In a very real sense, he was no longer part of the Roamers, no longer entirely human. He wasn’t sure how either of them could cope with the changes.
But Roamers had a penchant for solving impossible problems.
All of the clans would be astonished to see him and his strange vessel. They might think him an invading alien, a potential threat, and they’d probably scatter. Jess wanted to find some way to reassure them, but he had no way to communicate directly. For all its wonders, the water-and-pearl spaceship did not have a standard comm system with which to contact the Roamers.
The exotic vessel tumbled gracefully toward the asteroid belt. Outlying rocks drifted in a kind of smokescreen to foil the prying sensors of Big Goose ships. The central habitation rocks of Rendezvous were bound together with massive construction braces; smaller asteroids were simply tethered into place or even allowed to drift under their mutual gravity. As Jess closed toward the central hub, he spotted numerous Roamer craft: short-range shuttles, ekti escorts, and long-distance cargo vessels delivering supplies and materials like bees flitting around a hive. Home at last.
Jess approached the main docking ring slowly as more questions rose in his mind. How would he get inside? He looked down at his energy-impregnated body, saw his skin glow. With the wentals permeating his tissues, he possessed many advantages and abilities no human had ever experienced before. The blood flowing through his veins was supercharged, his skin covered with a crackling field. In keeping him alive, the wentals had made him more than human. He wondered if he could even survive open vacuum.
Yes. We will protect you.
They could not, however, help him to answer the flood of questions the Roamers would have. That would be his own challenge. Cesca would help, once he was finally reunited with her.
While the clan ships scrambled in a panic and the inhabitants of Rendezvous hurried to defensive stations or made preparations to evacuate, Jess hovered the large, strange ship outside a circular entry crater. He had to hope the clan ships didn’t shoot at him, though his wental vessel could probably withstand any such attack. Roamers generally kept a low profile, hiding instead of picking a fight. They would wait and see what he intended to do. He hoped.
From the asteroid cluster, lights glinted like bright eyes from portholes in the rough walls. Even now alarms must be ringing. Roamers rushed through the tunnels, preparing to evacuate or fight.
Jess’s ship just hung there, motionless. He made no threatening moves, giving the Roamers time to accept his presence. Other spacecraft backed off, waiting to see what would happen next.
Finally, curious, one small ship approached closer than the others dared, swooping past. Jess looked through the wavering water wall to see a young Roamer piloting the vessel. The pilot had Asian features and a face full of more curiosity than fear. Nikko Chan Tylar. Jess remembered the young man from clan gatherings . . . back when he himself had been normal.
Standing where he could be seen behind the curved, clear wall, Jess moved languidly through the liquid atmosphere. He pressed close to the watery hull and raised a hand in a nonthreatening greeting, sure that Nikko could see his human form through the bubble wall. Jess slowly waved—harmless, friendly. Nikko’s shocked expression showed genuine recognition before he spun away.
Then Jess realized that in addition to his eerily glowing flesh, his naked physique would have been an innocuous, even humorous surprise. Roamers loved to decorate themselves, embroider their clothes, embellish their outfits with flamboyant scarves. They weren’t prudish, but if he walked completely unclothed into Rendezvous, he would cause a different sort of stir than he intended.
That is easily enough solved.
In the water in front of him, a tiny strand appeared as molecules lined up, drawn from the minerals in the captured seawater and from the metallized coral of the framework. The thread spun out like a silvery web, growing longer, then whirling, weaving.
We will create a fabric that can endure the energy in your flesh.
As the threads meshed and tangled, knitting into a filmy weave, he saw that the material had the sheen and color of mother-of-pearl. The fabric wrapped around him like another skin, covering his arms and legs, his torso, his hips, but leaving his hands and feet bare.
“Very stylish,” he said.
It is sufficient.
Ready now, Jess carefully brought the wental vessel down into the crater, pressing the filmy walls against the large hangar doors. The watery barrier reshaped itself, forming a fluid seal so that Jess could operate the hatch and open the heavy door.
He stepped directly through the membrane as if it were no more than gelatin and stood in the bright artificial lights of the Rendezvous receiving bay. His skin was moist, but the water did not trickle off of him. It remained there, a part of his being, alive with phosphorescent energy. Though he didn’t need to breathe, Jess still inhaled a deep lungful to smell the dust and the metallic odor of reprocessed and filtered air. The sensation was strange, wonderful.
A flood of memories and emotions came to him. He had first met Cesca here on business for clan Tamblyn. He had attended meetings and helped the families make major decisions regarding commerce, expansion, and their future. He wanted to melt with relief as it once again sank in where he was. Home.
Then the wentals spoke in his head, delivering a warning that dumped an icy cold avalanche onto his hopes. Do not allow yourself to come into physical contact with any other person. You must remain separate. There is a danger.
“Why?” All he could think of was the chance to see Cesca again, even if she was already married. They had been so close—
You hold too much uncontrolled power. Your body can barely contain the wental water inside your cells, and the surge from a touch of your skin could flood another person, like the cascade from a bursting dam.
“You mean I can’t . . . touch anybody? Not even a handshake?” Or a kiss.
It would be fatal to the other person. The power would overflow from you and burn out a fragile human form. We could not prevent harm.
Jess felt the blow of the news. Not even a touch! “You could have warned me about that before.”
It should not be difficult to keep yourself separated from other humans. We will assist you. Your mission is important.
He focused his thoughts, remembered his calling, the great ally he brought to the clans and, by extension, to the human race. “All right, we’ll make it work.” Even seeing Cesca again would be enough, until they could decide what to do. He hoped she was here.
Now Jess heard running feet, dozens of Roamer men, women, and curious children bounding like gazelles in the asteroid’s low gravity. They were afraid and intrigued, but still rushing to meet him. Nikko must already have transmitted what he had seen. The return of Jess Tamblyn, especially in such an amazing ship, would cause an uproar.
Jess looked at the wide eyes and smiled. Some Roamers carried weapons ranging from energy blasters to projectile guns. Though none of those devices could cause him harm, he did not make any move they might interpret as threatening. Instead, he spread his hands. The strange pearl-fabric garment he wore shimmered in the artificial light. “I know my arrival is somewhat unexpected and . . . unorthodox, but there’s nothing to fear. I promise.”
More and more Roamers came into the rock-walled bay, and they stayed away instinctively from his obviously supercharged body. “I’m back . . . truly, I’m back. And I have such a strange story to tell that even the Ildiran rememberers wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
Then finally he saw Cesca Peroni.
She pushed her way forward, hurrying with an urgency that the others could see. Like a man dying of thirst, he drank in her appearance, her full lips, her lush figure, just remembering. . . . Many of the Roamers had either known or suspected their secret romance, but at the moment gossip was the least of their concerns.
Jess longed to embrace her, but the wentals prevented him. “No closer, Cesca. Please. Much as I want to, you’d better not come near me.” He held up his luminous hand, showed the play of faint lightning inside his fingers.
Cesca stopped. Her expressive brown eyes seemed to swallow him, and her face radiated sheer joy. Her almost black hair had grown longer; her olive skin was still smooth and perfect, though she appeared tired. The burden of being Speaker showed on her high-cheekboned face.
Why wasn’t she with Reynald?
“Well, you took your time coming back, Jess Tamblyn. We’ve been looking for you for months. So much—” Her words cut off and she forced herself to continue. “So much has changed.”
He couldn’t keep himself from chuckling. “You don’t know the half of it, Cesca.”