Ascending (The Vardeshi Saga Book One)

Chapter Eight

The shuttle flight to the Pinion was uneventful in every respect save that it was my first excursion beyond Earth's atmosphere. The launch itself was intentionally low-key: no cameras, no reporters, just Councillor Seidel and Dr. Sawyer and myself standing in the field behind the Villiger Center at seven o'clock in the morning, shading our eyes against the sun. The orange crates containing my gear were stacked on the grass in preparation for transport later that morning. The pile looked at once enormous and impossibly small, given that it was intended to keep me alive in space for a year. I had a day's worth of food and toiletries and a change of clothes in a brightly patterned duffel bag slung over one shoulder and felt ludicrously like a college freshman headed off to her first year on campus.

As I waited I felt restless, uneasy in my new uniform. I had examined every inch of it the night before. Zey had told me the Fleet was a civilian organization, but the uniform looked vaguely military to my eyes. It was austerely simple, slate gray with dull gold panels on the shoulders, its only ornamentation a scattering of brass studs on the collar and the top of the right wrist. The seams were so fine as to be nearly invisible, and finding no obvious zippers or buttons, I had puzzled over how to put it on. Eventually I discovered that one of the collar studs was in fact a snap, and when I unsnapped it, a seam running the entire length of the torso fell open. After overcoming my initial horror, I ventured to put it on. The length was correct—someone on the Pinion had estimated my height with remarkable accuracy—but the cut was far too generous. The sleeves flapped loosely around my arms. Dismayed, I looked at my reflection in the mirror, contrasting it with the trim figures of the Vardeshi I had met. It definitely didn't fit. I would ask for another one tomorrow, I thought, and snapped the collar fastening into place. To my astonishment, that simple action triggered some sort of automatic adjustment process. The garment tightened around my body into the neat, slim cut of the other uniforms I'd seen, the excess fabric vanishing as if by magic. I stared at my transformed reflection. No item of clothing I had ever worn in my life had fit me with such precision. What would the clothing designers of Earth pay for this technology? I couldn't imagine. With the fit adjusted, the uniform was actually rather flattering. The brassy gold of the shoulder panels was nearly an exact match for my hair. I doubted there were many Vardeshi who could say the same. If nothing else, I would look the part when I stepped aboard the Pinion tomorrow.

Assuming I was still invited, I thought now as I stood on the frost-rimed grass, toying anxiously with the strap of my bag. What if they'd changed their minds? Until the gleam of the landing craft appeared directly above us, I was certain they wouldn't come. When I finally saw it, I felt a momentary reprieve. Then, as the silver vessel settled down neatly onto its painted cross, a new host of worries crowded in. I watched with my heart hammering in my chest as the panel slid back and the ramp extended onto the grass. No one emerged. They were waiting for me.

I shook the councillor's hand, gave Dr. Sawyer a last quick fierce hug, and went up the ramp without looking back.

The passageway was narrow and climbed at a steep angle. It led directly into the main chamber of the little craft. The interior was dim after the brightness outside, and I had to blink away the glare before I could make out my surroundings. What I saw fascinated me. I had seen more than my share of economy-class airplane cabins and train cars, and none of them had looked anything like this. There were no straight lines, no sharp angles to be found. In their place were smooth curves and organically rounded contours. Soft light emanated from globes the size of oranges set into the walls and ceiling. These, too, were placed at deliberately irregular intervals. A bank of softly twinkling lights at one end of the chamber indicated a control panel of some kind. Directly in front of it, where the pilot's and copilot's seats would have been on an airplane, were two backless cushioned stools. Zey was standing in front of one of them. I smiled at him, but my attention went immediately to the woman at his side—the first Vardeshi woman I'd met. She was a little shorter than me and looked to be around my own age. Her slate-gray hair framed her face in a neat bob, the center section pinned back in a complicated braid. I couldn't see the color of her eyes—they were blue, I learned later—but their gaze was cool and appraising.