Empress of Eternity (29 page)

35 Quad 2471 R.E.

Eltyn, Faelyna, and Rhyana sat around the end of the table where they ate in the pale luminescence now exuded from the blue-gray stone of the station itself, a light slightly dimmer than that cast by a few antique candles, yet an illumination so diffuse that it cast no shadows.

“Who…or what is she?” asked Rhyana.

“The keeper?” asked Eltyn. “She obviously controls the canal and the station.”

“How do we know that?” persisted the delivery woman. “Just because she can appear and change what we see?”

Eltyn looked to Faelyna. “What do you think?”

“What would be the point of deceiving us?”

“To keep us from learning how to control the canal?” suggested Eltyn.

“If that happened to be her aim, couldn’t she have killed us when we were blind and immobile?”

“Not if she’s really not in our time, like she said,” Rhyana pointed out.

“If she’s communicating across time, wouldn’t that suggest she’s telling the truth?” asked Eltyn.

“What if she’s not?” countered Rhyana.

“Do you think we’re just dealing with a programmed intelligence that we woke up when we closed the canal?” He looked to Faelyna.

“That’s possible. That raises other questions. She/it can communicate through our minds…in our language. If she’s from what amounts to our future, why would she bother? If she’s from the past, how does she know how we speak? None of the ancient tongues are like Hururian.”

“It bothers me,” declared Rhyana.

“We don’t have too many choices,” Faelyna pointed out.

That concerned Eltyn. None of their choices were good.

The light intensity in the lower level brightened, and the three turned to see the keeper standing there, with the same silver-shadowed presence behind her.
I need to know more if I am to help you.

Why did you contact us?
asked Eltyn.
Why do you want to help us?

The keeper did not answer immediately, as seemed to be the case, Eltyn thought, whenever a difficult question was posed. Was that a sign of an artificial intelligence?

By closing the station, you contacted…me. The Bridge has great power, but using all but the smallest fraction of that power will destroy the Earth. If we help you, that power is less likely to fall into the hands of those like The Twenty.

Why don’t you show us how to operate things?
asked Rhyana.
That way we can decide for ourselves.

The keeper laughed, yet there was a sadness behind the soundless gesture.
You cannot operate the Bridge the way I do. If you had more time and more…advanced equipment, with help, over years you might discover those means. For many reasons, that is not practical.

Not practical for us…or for you?

For either of us. You do not have the supplies, and there is no way to get them to you. If you do not act soon, in terms of your own event-point, the chances for success decline.

How do we know that all of this isn’t just a way to get us to leave the station?
pressed Rhyana.
To keep us from finding out how it works?

If that were my intention, all I need do is nothing. All I need do is wait. Your food and water will not last forever.

We can unlock the station,
Eltyn replied.

The keeper smiled sadly.
Not any longer. You should try. I will wait.

Eltyn glanced at Faelyna. Then the two of them stood, followed by Rhyana. They eased from the table, made their way to the ramp, and walked up the lower ramp and then the upper one to where their equipment remained. At a distance, the keeper followed.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Eltyn looked at the makeshift assemblage, which appeared cloaked with the ghost consoles that represented, he thought, equipment from another time.

“I’m not going to open anything,” she replied. “I’m just going to unlock one of the windows. The stone will still protect us, and there can’t be anyone outside looking to get in. The riffies will be watching by minidrone, if they’re watching at all.”

“Do we have enough power?”

“We should, and we need to know if she’s telling the truth.” Faelyna addressed the screen before her. “We’ll try the south window.” She frowned. “There’s no response.”

Rhyana walked to where the window had always opened and pressed her hand against the stone before either of the others could say a word.

The stone remained immobile.

After several moments, Eltyn turned to the keeper. “You…” As he started to speak, his words went from spoken to thought.
…seem to have us where you want us.

I would not wish where you are upon anyone. I do understand.

The almost plaintive honesty of her response went through Eltyn like a blade.

The three exchanged glances.

Finally, Faelyna asked,
What do you need to know?

Would you tell me more about The Twenty…where they are located…

We don’t know too much, but they represent themselves as upholders of tradition…
began Eltyn.

Before long, he had lost track of all the questions posed by the silver-eyed keeper, but he did notice that she often glanced at the silver-shadowed figure that always seemed to follow her.

Much, much later, the keeper finally said,
Thank you. We must think of the best way to deal with your problem.

Then she vanished.

Eltyn used the back of his sleeve to blot away the dampness on his forehead.

“She asked a lot of questions about The Twenty and Hururia,” said Rhyana.

“She asked as many about what people believe,” mused Faelyna. “And about traditions.”

“And why the questions about the rainbow?” Rhyana wrinkled her brow.

Eltyn had to admit that he’d been puzzled about the keeper’s inquiry about legends dealing with the rainbow. Then, he’d also been puzzled about her questions about what she had called politics. Even after her explanation of the term, it hadn’t made that much sense.

20 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

Duhyle required less than an hour to rig capacitor-jolt detonators for the biotherm. Then he reshaped the explosive into ten makeshift grenades around which he formed thin metal/composite fragments, wrapped in another metal sheath. For the detonators and the casings, he cannibalized much of his own equipment, since he had no doubts that, one way or another, it would be unnecessary in the future. He was finishing sealing the last grenade when Helkyria walked up from the lower level.

“Are those…?”

“Grenades of a primitive sort. They’ve got impact/timer detonators. They should go through most impact-resistant uniforms. Even if they don’t, there are likely to be broken bones and other injuries.” He completed the last seal and looked up. “How are the techs and troopers taking it?”

“They’re more than ready.” Her smile was crooked and rueful. “They don’t like being cooped up.”

“It hasn’t been that long. It only seems that way. Think of what it must have been like when the ancients sent military forces to Mars and the Belt. Or farther.”

“Farther? We don’t know that. In any case, that’s old, old history. You might as well ask them about using spears.”

“What about the officers?”

“Valakyr doesn’t trust the keeper, not surprisingly, and Symra worries that we’re being double-crossed.”

“And you?”

“We’re not being double-crossed, but we’re likely to be very expendable. The keeper doesn’t want the Aesyr to use the Hammer any more than we do. Much less, in fact. I’d judge that she—or it—is more worried about Baeldura than we are.” Blackish purple light glowed from the tips of her hair and was reflected in her silver irises before fading into a faint blue.

“We’re the handy tool to take care of the problem,” replied Duhyle. “Do we really have any choice?”

“That was the point I had to make to Valakyr. It didn’t seem to occur to her that, if the universe collapses, even the canal—the Bridge—will go with it. That doesn’t benefit the keeper. Symra at least understood that.”

Duhyle frowned. “I might be wrong, but I think there’s more at stake than that for this…keeper.”

“More than what?”

“Survival, either of her or the Bridge.”

“I’d have to agree, but I don’t think we can count on finding out.”

Duhyle stood and stretched. “You might ask her. You’re the only one who has a chance of understanding the answers.”

“You might be better than I am at that,” she replied.

“I doubt it, but that doesn’t matter. The keeper and the officers are both more likely to listen to you.”

Helkyria sat on the stool facing Duhyle. “Kavn…what do you think the keeper is after? You’ve had a chance to watch her.”

“I think she’s new at her job. Or she hasn’t done it for a long time, and she’s faced with something she didn’t anticipate.”

“I had a thought or two along those lines, but…some of the technical jargon…she speaks it without hesitation. Expert systems, you think?”

“Very expert systems. That’s another problem. I worry that she may be a captive of those systems.”

“What do you suggest we do about it?”

“We can’t do anything about the systems. We’ve already tried.”

“So you want me to try to find out more from her?”

Duhyle shrugged. “What else can we do? Except prepare to wreak whatever havoc we can on the Aesyr.”

“Grenades or no grenades, you aren’t going in first.”

“No…but there’s no point in my being behind everyone, and I know how they’ll work. I’ll follow the spec-ops types.”

“Kavn…”

“…and some of the security troopers.”

She looked at him.

“Mimyra, if we don’t stop them, we don’t have a future. And I was combat-trained first.”

She nodded slowly. “I don’t have to like it.”

“Neither do I.”

She reached out and took his hand. They sat in the ever-changing light, waiting…

9 Tenmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

Maertyn set the platter of cool casserole in front of Maarlyna, then seated himself across from her at the lower-level table next to the kitchen area. “What are the Gaerda troops doing outside?”

“Trying to stay warm. The wind has picked up, and it’s bitter out there.” She looked at the sprig of greenery and then replaced it in the side pocket of the singlesuit. “Hardly what we expected for the holidays.”

“I don’t know that we expected anything, except being together.”

“I’m so sorry, Maertyn. You’ve tried so hard…and now…”

“You couldn’t let everything end…” he said softly.

“I could have. Perhaps I should have. Everything will end, sooner or later.” She shook her head. “Except so many people would never have the chance to laugh…love…live…and…”

“…enjoy whatever holidays they might have?” Maertyn kept his voice light, hard as it was.

“I was looking forward to the holidays, spending them with you.”

“We still can, can’t we? They’re more than a month away.” He smiled. “All we have to do is save three civilizations. Oh…and find a way to remove our guards before we can save our own.”

“Dearest…what do you think we should do about the Ruche people?”

Maertyn almost smiled at her avoidance of his indirect question. “If you can send them weapons, even a few of the ones I sent here, have them stage a counter-coup.”

“With three people? Isn’t that unrealistic? Besides, I can’t send anything…” She paused. “Nothing substantial.”

“What do you mean…nothing substantial?”

“Just a moment.” Her once-amber eyes turned an almost blank silver.

Realizing that she was “consulting” with the Bridge systems, or dredging the memories of past keepers, Maertyn hoped she might come up with something.

After a time, her eyes refocused on him. “If I used all the energy available for the event-congruency the Bridge touches and they leave, I might be able to send fifty grams to the Ruche, and a fifth of that to the Vanir.”

“That little?” he asked. “For all the available energy? How much does the Bridge generate or hold?”

“The amount is so large it’s meaningless, but most of that is used to maintain it, as you put it, out of time. If the Bridge drops into time, more is available, but its mass is no longer shielded and the effects…that’s what happened the last time, when the moon fell…was dragged…toward Earth and was fragmented.” She paused. “It was the only time the Bridge occupied a single specific event-point, and it was very brief. It also was almost the last time.”

Maertyn let out a low whistle.

“That’s why the Bridge has been seeking a keeper. The systems can only monitor, not act. Things are stable, but the Aesyr have enough knowledge to make them very unstable if they get hold of the station. The Vanir don’t want to give up the station for that reason, but they know the Aesyr would rather bring the universe to a very premature death than allow the Vanir to remain in control of Earth.”

Maertyn shook his head. “I don’t understand. If there is no time, only these…event-points, don’t all events essentially happen at once? And if that’s so, why couldn’t earlier keepers know what would happen and do something about it?”

“Time is the way intelligences perceive the entropy of events. Events do succeed each other. No one has ever resolved with certainty the degree of causality involved, or if strict causality even exists.” Maarlyna shook her head. “Those aren’t my words, and I’m not sure I got them quite right. They don’t translate into Laarnian.”

“So events do somehow follow each other?”

“Yes.”

“All right. So you can’t send anything explosive back—or forward…or to their event-point—with the Ruche people.”

Maarlyna smiled, brittlely. “Anything I did send would be highly explosive, but most of it would have to be shielding. If I didn’t shield it, it would explode instantly in their time period.”

“Like antimatter?”

“With event-point separation along continuity, energy differentials do build, and it takes more and more energy…”

Maertyn nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face as she—or the Bridge systems through her—explained.

“…but the nature of the event-point penetration limits what the Bridge can do, in direct relation to the event-point separation from the event-point locale of the keeper…”

“You can do more here than for the Ruche, and more for them than for the Aesyr?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Here there’s no energy differential, but…yes, that is, for the Ruche and the Aesyr.”

“Maybe you should just leave the choice to the Ruche people. You can extend the Bridge out of time, so to speak, anywhere. Let them choose where they want you to put them down.”

“I can’t put them just anywhere. No more than the length of the Bridge from any point on its apparent geo graphical location.” Maarlyna made a wry face. “I don’t talk that way, but it’s like I don’t have any choice when I try to explain some things.” She frowned. “I might be able to do something else, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we leave the Bridge out of the event-point, but open a door…and leave a present from here…and then set the Ruche people down where they can find allies…”

“Leave a present from here? I thought you said you couldn’t put them in two places or…”

“I can’t. But I could expel fifty grams from here…without having them leave the Bridge…” She shook her head. “I’m sounding like Tauzn might. What’s happening to me? I’m not like that…I wasn’t.” Tears oozed from the corners of her eyes.

He stood and walked around behind her chair, where he leaned down and put his arms around her.

“Why…why, Maertyn?”

“Because it’s much easier to be compassionate when you have no power. When you have power, no matter what you do, someone gets hurt.”

“That’s…that’s not the only why. Why am I feeling it now…and not earlier?”

“I can only guess.” He waited, but when Maarlyna did not speak, he went on, “When you…merged…or became the keeper…some of what is you got submerged. You’re strong, stronger than most people realize, but it took a while for you to get…your mental balance. You have now…and you’re asking the questions you always did.”

He could sense her nod as he kept his arms around her.

There was another period of silence before she spoke again. “The Ruche Twenty…they’ve killed thousands. Would hitting them be that bad?”

“You’ve asked twice about the Ruche people. You don’t have much…elapsed time to work with, do you?”

“There’s some.”

“But not much.” Maertyn’s back began to cramp and twinge from the awkward position, and he eased his arms from around her and straightened. “No…it’s always a risk when governments are attacked, especially if the attack is successful. You never know if the new government will be even worse than the old one. Much of the time, it is.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t do anything?”

“No. I’m saying that I believe you should. But you should, knowing that it might not work out.”

“How would you make it more likely to work?”

“Can you tell if people are in a building?”

“Not really.”

“Then we’ll have to guess…and hope. I’d say that, since it’s not a tropical culture, even if it’s warm temperate, The Twenty are most likely to be present in early afternoon. Even if they’re not, if your present can destroy whatever the capitol building is at a time when the most people will see it…”

“Do you really think that will work?” asked Maarlyna.

“The odds of the three of them fomenting a successful counter-revolt aren’t good,” he admitted. “But they’re essentially dead if they stay in the station or if they try to leave it where it’s located geographically, or if they attack the capital directly.” He paused. “Can you lock the station for at least a few years after they leave?”

She stiffened, ever so slightly. “I think so. Actually, that will happen anyway. I don’t know that I could unlock…Why? Oh…”

“Just to keep the Ruche honest for a time. I don’t know that I…we know enough about causality or what was it you said…‘the entropy of event-points.’ Do you need to talk to them quickly?”

“Fairly soon…I just feel it. I can’t explain it.”

“Then we should eat, and you should do so.” He stepped back from behind her chair and moved around the table and settled back at the table, looking at her and then at the casserole.