A complicated set of images answered her.
Deciphering the message, she endeavored to tune her mind to the right frequency, one so unusual, she knew no other sentience that used it. “Sascha, can you see this?” She sent out a test image.
“No.”
But the NetMind had seen. It sent her another flower. Smiling at having worked out how to broadcast to it without telling everyone her thoughts, she considered the best way to ask her next question.
An image of the PsyNet, with a bridge connecting it to her.
The image came back devoid of the bridge.
Frowning, she sent confusion.
The PsyNet. Her. A night sky-colored glow passing from one to the other.
“Of course. You don’t need a bridge,” she whispered. “Because this is what you were born to do.” Trusting her instincts and putting more than her own life on the line, she showed it a snapshot of the Web of Stars.
What came back made her gasp aloud.
She understood. She told it so. It gave her back sunshine. Happiness. But then it followed with rain. Sadness. Images of the PsyNet with rivers of unrelieved darkness running through it, places where it could not go. In the darkness, she saw nothing alive. Death ruled.
She sent it a teardrop to wash the darkness away.
In response, it sent her images that made no sense . . . until she realized they were the memories of a child, but one who was more ancient than she could imagine—pictures of the PsyNet as it once was, rainbow-hued and alive. Then it showed her something else, something that stunned her into silence.
Barely able to think, she answered its good-bye sunshine with a flower, and opened her eyes. Vaughn was holding her, but he was relaxed.
“I felt something touch you.” He frowned. “It wasn’t bad. Like a cub isn’t bad. But different.”
“The NetMind.” Her answer set off a cacophony of questions from the others.
“How—?”
“—a leak?”
“—Council?”
“Is it—?”
“Quiet!” Vaughn cut them off with a roar. “Go on, Red.”
She laughed and, to everyone’s surprise, kissed him on the lips. “I love you.”
His growl vibrated along her nerve endings, the most intimate of caresses. “Hell of a time to tell me.”
The tension diffused from everyone but her jaguar—she felt his continuing anger through the direct connection of themating bond. She wanted to soothe, to stroke, but for that she needed privacy and right now, the others were waiting for her to speak. “I’m assuming everyone here knows about the NetMind?”
“I tried to explain it,” Sascha said, “but I think you’re the expert. You speak to it in images?”
“Yes. It looks like we’ve managed to work out a number of pictures that translate as the same every time—sunshine is happiness, rain is sadness.”
“It feels?” Sascha whispered.
“Yes.” And that signaled a precious hope.
“How can it contact you if you’re not in the Net?” Lucas asked from his position against the window ledge.
“It’s a sentience that finds it natural to live in networks of minds,” she said, bursting to share what she’d learned. “If there is a network, it can travel to that place.”