Heaven's Reach (72 page)

He shrugged. It didn't matter. He and the others did not have to smite the Jophur in order to defeat them.

Emerson felt a chill draft. He shivered, and soon noticed a distinct fog begin to form above each dolphin's blowhole, like individual fountains of frost. His own breath began condensing, too. In moments, the small chamber became noticeably colder, and Hannes shouted for everyone to evacuate. It was time to leave, allowing the machine to perform as planned.

Still, Emerson hung back, relishing a flow of icy air
that gushed through ducts to far corners of the ship. He visualized the laser beam acting as a great pump, sucking heat as fast as other forces drew it in, then shooting it forth toward the cosmos. Grinning, he took satisfaction in the way an ancient Earthling technology thwarted Galactic foes—as it had once before, a long time ago, in the maw of a torrid sun.

I … still … have it
 … He pondered, glancing down at his hands.

When his grin became noisy—a chattering of clenched teeth—Emerson finally let Hannes and the others tug him back toward habitable areas.

Anyway, Sara was waiting for him.

Now at least they would have a few moments together.

Until the star exploded.

Gillian

Y
OU NEVER ASKED FOR VOLUNTEERS,” SHE
told her visitor accusingly.

The transcendent being returned to her office, assembling itself out of dust motes and particles of air—perhaps in order to resume their conversation, or else to congratulate Gillian for the clever trick worked out by
Streaker
's engineering crew—creating a
refrigeration laser
, a device for dumping heat overboard, spraying it garishly skyward as fast as energy flowed into the ship from D Space.

Few Galactics had ever needed such a crude, gaudy,
wolfling
device. It would seem preposterously primitive, like rockets, or propeller-driven aircraft. But when humans began exploring the depths of their own sun two centuries ago—going there out of pure curiosity—the trick of laser-cooling had proved both useful and fateful, in several ways.

Shortly after reappearing, the visitor seemed to float before Gillian, an entity with lustrous gray skin and a
short, powerful tail whose flukes actually stirred a breeze, kicking up midget whirlwinds, rustling the papers on her desk. Coalescing further, it started taking a resemblance to Gillian's dearest dolphin friend, Lieutenant Hikahi, one of those who had been left behind on Kithrup, along with Tom and Charles Dart.

Before the Transcendent could speak, Gillian completed her accusation.

“You say you need wolflings, to add as
ingredients
for your message-probes to other galaxies. Did it ever occur to you to ask? I know my fellow Earthlings. You'd have gotten thousands,
millions
of volunteers for such a trip! Even knowing in advance that it would involve merging with hydros and machines and other creepy things. There have always been enough weirdos and adventurers. People who'd pay any price, just to be the first to see some far horizon.”

The ersatz dolphin rolled on its side, almost languidly, as if relishing a new experience.

“We shall make note of that-t,”
crooned a close approximation of Hikahi's voice, causing Gillian a lonely pang.
“Perhaps we'll take your advice … next time the question comes up.”

She stared for a moment, then gave a low, dry laugh.

“Right. When another rupture comes, in a hundred million years!”

“That's not so very long, for those of us who make our true homes next to ssssingularities. We who you called ‘cowards' for biding our time in a black hole's stretched borderline, rather than plunging into the unknown.”

“Look,” she raised a hand. “I already apologized for that. Right now, though, I think we'd better cut to—”

“The chasssse?”
Her visitor rolled the simulated body in a loop.

Gillian raised an eyebrow. “Do you already know—”

“What you are going to say? Your surface thoughts are trivial to read. But even without using psi, we can make good estimates, based on appraisal of your past behavior under varied circumstances. These models were recently revised. Would you like to know what our latest simulations foretell?”

She answered, guardedly.

“I'm listening.”

The imitation Hikahi brought one dark eye toward Gillian.

“You were about to decline the honor of being our emissariessss. You would claim that urgent obligations beckon you elsewhere. Obligations that cannot be ignored.”

Gillian shrugged.

“Anyone could've guessed that, after our last conversation. Assuming I did decline, how would you have replied?”

“I would have said that you have no option. A conveyance and shield have already been woven around your ship, ready to clasp the opportunity when a space-time rift opens nearby. With luck, it might carry you safely beyond the limits of known civilization. That kind of investment is not given up lightly. Your request would be refused.”

With her next breath, Gillian exhaled a bitter sigh.

“I guess that answer's inevitable. So. How do your simulations predict I'd respond next?”

The dolphin-shaped being sputtered laughter.

“With threatsssss!

“You would claim readiness to blow up your ship … or to interfere with the mission in some other way.”

Gillian felt her face grow warm. That really had been her next move. A desperate ploy. But no other tactic came to mind in the short time available.

“I guess it is a bit of a cliche.”

“Naturally, all such possibilities have been taken into account. In this case, our analyses show you would be bluffing. Given a stark choice between adventure, on the one hand, and assured extinction on the other, you could be relied upon to choose adventure!”

Gillian's shoulders slumped. The Transcendents were quick learners, and with awesome computational power they could simulate whole alternate realities. Small wonder they outmaneuvered any plan she came up with, using her limited human brain.

“Then that's it?” she asked. “We have no choice. We head for some far galaxy, like it or not.”

“Your linear guess is only partly correct. Indeed, you have no choice. That part of it you have right, Dr. Basssskin. We can compel you and your crew to depart, and that-t would be that.”

The visitor shook its sleek gray head as it began yet another transfiguration. Hikahi's outlines grew blurry. Her simulated body started stretching.

“But our simulations did not stop with your behavior today. They scrutinized what you might do later … during the weeks, months, and years that stretch ahead, until your people arrive at some distant realm.”

Gillian blinked. “You worked it out that far ahead?”

“To a high degree of probability. And that is where a problem keeps cropping up in our models. Given enough time, something else will occur to you. You will realize that it is possible to have your adventure, plus revenge as well! A way to visit far-off realms, and also retaliate against those who thrust you on so great a voyage, against your will.”

She could only stare, blinking in confusion as the Transcendent finished converting to a different body shape … another dolphin image, a bit longer and stronger looking than Hikahi, with scar tissue covering a savage wound near the left eye.

Creideiki
, she realized, with a faint shiver.

“I … don't … I don't know what you mean. Unless …” Gillian swallowed, and tried concentrating. It was difficult, under that strangely powerful cetacean gaze.

“Unless you're concerned about what we'd
say
about you, to whatever high minds we meet on the other side.”

This time, the visitor did not respond in Anglic. Rather, the facsimile of
Streaker
's old commander lifted that tormented head and cast a spray of squealing clicks, filling her office with couplets of ornate Trinary
verse.

Gillian squinted at the replica of her old comrade and leader. The dolphin captain looked so genuine, so tangible, as if she could reach out and stroke his warm gray flank—battered, yet unbowed.

“That's … the first truly wise thing I've yet heard from you gods,” she said. “It's almost … as if you really
are
—”

The Transcendent interrupted. Its sleek form began dissolving, folding inward toward a ball of light.

“Are you … entirely sure … that I am not?”

She blinked, unsure what to make of the non sequitur.

“Wait!” she cried out. “What's going to happen? What are you going to—”

The visitor vanished silently. But in her mind a soft presence lingered for another moment, whispering.

We have much to do … and very little time.
…

A shrill whistle filled the air. A holo image of Akeakemai burst in, calling from
Streaker
's bridge.

“Gillian! Zub'daki says that mass infall is speeding up! The explosion's just minutes away!”

She nodded, feeling tired and altogether unready to witness the end of the universe. Or any part of it.

“I'll be right up,” she said, turning toward the door. But the pilot's voice cut her short.

“That's not all!” he added, with frantic tones. “The big needle-gateway … it's—”

There followed a noisy clatter. Gillian saw a blur of motion on the bridge, as officers dashed in all directions, propelled by agitated tails.

“Niss!” she called out. “Show me what's going on out there!”

Abruptly, a new holo display opened, presenting a view of nearby space.

The planet-sized Transcendent needle took up most of the scene. One of its flanks was now almost too bright to look at, reflecting angry light from the dwarf star—a fuming conflagration, rapidly heating toward Armageddon.

Gillian quickly saw what had Akeakemai upset. The needle was
splitting open.
Moreover, as it broke apart, beams of light reached out to seize three nearby objects.