The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) (14 page)

Just before every planetfall now, it seemed like another little piece of him was ripped away, leaving a raw, pulpy wound that never healed. Maybe it was just the nature of the job, maybe the immorality of it was getting to him, and it was his humanity that was abandoning him, leaving him a little emptier with each go. On some level, he knew that that
should
be true. . .

At the same time, fighting—the job—had become the only thing that kept him focused. Sometimes that mental morass was just too much. Training helped. Fighting helped more, but challenges had become scarce of late. He didn’t want to lose his humanity altogether, but the logic that enabled him to sleep at night had always been to put himself up as collateral, to meet with his hands whatever the Empire faced, and eventually to gracefully accept defeat when overwhelmed by a superior force. He hadn’t been able to do that with Thars Kohanic or Garlin Braams. Braams in particular still bothered him, though the barb stung less and less as time passed.

At some point fighting—or was it killing?—had defined him. He wasn’t sure when this happened, but he didn’t like the look of his future. Nothing seemed to make him happy anymore, and recently, there’d been no one to fight—or kill—no one of note, anyway. He sparred with Raus mostly for Raus’s benefit. He sparred with Vays, with whom he’d reached a teetering equilibrium. Depending on the day, the mood, the setting, or any other given variable, one or the other would gain the upper hand and own the match. Only Hilene offered a true challenge. She’d learned to apply some rudimentary Approaching Infinity theory, incorporating it into her Spear Hand style, and managed to become even more deadly.

Their courtship included, they’d been together nearly fifty years. He needed her. He
still
needed her. Even though he had a gaping hole inside him, which he secretly hoped someday somehow to fill with someone he was intellectually sure didn’t exist, right now he couldn’t afford to let Hilene go, to be completely honest and just end their relationship. He was physically addicted to her on and off the sparring block. She was the only thing that gave him any semblance of calm. It was only fleeting, though. Guilt had a way of creeping in and greasing the way back into the morass.

He sighed and bowed his head. He raised his eyes to look upon the dead cityscape one last time before reentering the Palace. How many more worlds would fall to the Empire? Hundreds? Thousands? Time marched on and so would the Empire.

One hundred and twenty-eight days into transit from Planet 1566, a journey which should have gone on, at minimum, three times that, the Vine was snagged, as by hooks, and brought to a sudden, jarring halt. Everyone within the Root Palace was affected. Hundreds were injured and some fatalities resulted, either from physical trauma or from complications arising from the Palace walls being compromised.

The Shades were assembled in the war room an hour later, slowed by a number of malfunctioning jump decks. Jav Holson, Raus Kapler, Icsain, Gilf Scanlan, Forbis Vays, Brin Karvasti, Hilene Tanser, and Nils Porta: they all sat around the glass-topped table under which video screens shone, relaying data and images from around the Palace. The walls, too, were alight with similar screens, all showing damage estimates and repair efforts. At the head of the room, Witchlan stood beside a larger holographic screen, upon which was a computer simulation of the calamity that had befallen them.

“So,” Witchlan said, “you all may be wondering what in the vast emptiness between galaxies could possibly have gotten in our way. Well here it is. It’s rather like a spiderweb, really. One that is certainly manmade, of poor design, and, to our great misfortune, of a material much sturdier than spider’s silk. You can see that the Palace has been breached here, and here,” he said pointing to the diagram. “And further breaches along the Vine here, here, and here. The Stitch Drive has been pierced and will need to be repaired, but what will take time is extricating ourselves from this snare. This is the first time in all of our history that we have found ourselves in such a predicament.”

They all looked on at the holographic screen as the image upon it zoomed out to give a better appreciation of scale.

“What are we looking at, Minister?” Jav said.

“General Scanlan?” Witchlan said, placing a dark hand to his face, unable or unwilling to continue further.

“Yes, Minister,” Scanlan said, adjusting the monocle over his right eye. “It appears to be an elaborate network—a
city
, I believe—comprising struts tens of kilometers long and several hundred meters in diameter. While there does appear to be some repetition in design, suggesting a plan, I would surmise that growth and development occurred in unexpected waves, which would tend to explain the lack of consistency. For example,” he said, standing and pointing to the screen, “here, from this node, you can see several struts radiating out, to other nodes, where here there is a comparative lack of connected structures. Yet the structure overall continues on for many, many kilometers in all directions.”

“Our Astrophysics Division swears,” Witchlan said through the cover of his hand, “that this structure was not here upon our departure from Planet 1566, that it must have drifted into our path while we were en route.”

“That is not altogether unheard of, Minister,” Scanlan said. “In these spaces between systems—between
galaxies
—where matter is spread so thin, nearly anything can give rise to such drift.”

“Are there no means to anchor structures such as these?” Witchlan said.

“There are, surely. It’s possible, though, that a portion has broken off from the main structure. Or that it was set to drift purposely. Or,” he said, pausing to consider, “that it is, in fact, equipped with its own means of propulsion and navigation, though this latter seems highly unlikely as a cause for us finding ourselves in this situation. Thermal readings on the struts nearest us are consistent with idle power plant output. As far as we can determine, there is no life here.”

“This is as embarrassing as it is frustrating,” Witchlan said, dropping his hand. “General Scanlan, I would appreciate your thoughts on how to proceed in our extrication from this cage. In time, the Vine fiber will absorb whatever is lodged within it, but we would see this process expedited. As it is, every strut that comes in contact with the Vine is a bridge which might facilitate invasion. This close to
The Place with Many Doors
, we would rule out no possibility, however far-fetched, and take no unnecessary risks.”

“For the Palace proper,” Scanlan said, “we would need to take more delicate steps, but with the length of Vine not currently suited for human habitation, we could set up high-intensity gravity blocks, to draw in the material and more quickly facilitate its absorption. This would effectively neutralize any potential threats housed within the struts before they could directly affect the Vine.”

“That is a simple matter, one to which we will attend personally,” Witchlan said. “The Palace will require more thought, as will our progress through this mire of steel before us.

“In the meantime, we will scout what lies ahead. General Scanlan, you are to remain here at the Palace. One other Shade shall remain here while the rest of you go forth and ensure that the way is devoid of threat. General Holson, you may divvy up parties as you see fit. That is all.”

“Check your Tether Launch controls, everyone,” Jav said, placing his own about his left wrist.

Though all but Scanlan were gathered in Tether Launch Bay 23, they would not be making use of the bay’s function.

“Do you think these are really necessary?” Vays said.

Jav shrugged. “Not for emergency retrieval, but those struts go on and on, putting us out of Artifact communication range almost from the outset. I don’t foresee trouble, but then that’s the purpose of our going, to confirm one way or the other. It wouldn’t do to encounter trouble and be unable to report it.”

Vays nodded. “Who’s staying behind with Scanlan?”

“You tell me,” Jav said. “Someone from your team.”

Hilene was already standing next to Jav, though the pairings hadn’t yet been decided. Vays snorted, then looked from Nils Porta to Brin Karvasti.

Brin sighed. “Here, let me make this easier for you. This is more of a boys’ outing, anyway. No offense, Hilene.”

Hilene ignored her, but Vays reached out and caressed Brin’s cheek in gratitude.

“Okay, then, I’m with Kapler,” Vays said. “Sorry, Porta.”

Icsain cocked his smooth, highly polished wooden head but said nothing.

Jav pointed to a schematic of the Palace upon a small holographic screen. “Raus, Vays, you two take this strut. Nils, Icsain, you take this one. Since the rest of the Vine isn’t populated, and measures have already been taken to clear us from those moorings, Hilene and I will go on ahead and investigate this strut here,” he said indicating one far in advance of the Palace.

“It’s possible that the gravity blocks will alter the shape of the overall structure. We know the steel is strong or it wouldn’t have caught us. We don’t know if the gravity will tear it apart or if it’ll bring the whole works in. Either way, there’s very little chance that anything inside will survive the press to the Vine, but be careful and be prepared to evacuate, either on your own power or by emergency extraction. The press won’t kill you, but being buried under tons of steel and digested by the Vine might.

“There is no set time table so remember that you will not be coming back the way that you leave. Once the struts have been sheared from the Palace, and depending on the performance of the gravity blocks on the other snags, there are plans to engage standard propulsion.

“Another good reason for these,” Jav said, tapping the control at his wrist.

“I trust you can all find your own entry points.”

Jav turned to the bay attendant. “Signals are to be monitored at all times.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Okay, then,” Jav said. “Let’s go.”

Under their own power, Jav and Hilene exited the Palace, crossing empty space to reach another strut that stretched out like a false horizon ahead of the Vine and which might prove to be an obstacle to further progress. The strut’s skin was ruptured in several places, allowing easy ingress. They drifted through numerous layers of metal—blistered, popped, and sharp-edged—coming finally to a central corridor lined three-hundred and sixty degrees around with what appeared to be tracks for mass transit vehicles. The way left was piled with impassible debris, the majority of which was most probably made up of cars that used the tracks. Limp bodies, squeezed between the variously crushed metal, jutted and waved gently like cilia while others floated freely in a morbid parody of a sedate ballroom dance. They went right.

The two proceeded down the mass transit tunnel in silence for a time. Jav was nervous beside Hilene. It was funny, really, when considering his profession and the way he’d always been able to carry it out. That she should cause him so much worry both proved and invalidated his feelings for her.

They hadn’t spoken more than passing words for the last year, which was in stark contrast to what they had shared prior to the breakup. There had been one-sided talks leading up to the end, but one day, without a word, she walked out of the quarters they shared and never returned. He didn’t blame her. It was his fault. He recognized this, but felt powerless to change.

When he and Hilene had been together, he’d been overwhelmed by a kind of aimless guilt. He felt like he was betraying the memory of Mai Pardine. For a long time he thought it was Mao’s memory he was betraying, but something Mao had said, which he’d forgotten for a time, was painfully accurate: she’d been his surrogate for Mai; Mai, whose face was now many faces in his memory and not because of time’s passage. A persistent thought had nagged at him throughout his relationship with Hilene, despite his awareness of its implausibility and his best efforts to exorcise it, the thought that being with Hilene might prevent him from… From what? From reuniting with Mai Pardine, resurrected from the dead? No, not that. But maybe something
like
that.

He also felt like he was cheating Hilene, giving her far less than she deserved, and though he gave of himself as much as he was capable, she wasn’t long in realizing that he was mostly closed off to her. At first she accepted this as an evolutionary step in their relationship. They were busy with their work and enjoyed each other’s company in a way that didn’t make it a problem for some time. Later, when she realized that there’d been no change, she tried to ignore his essential inaccessibility. She was still in awe of him, which he didn’t totally understand and which he tried desperately not to exploit.

He cared for her, of that there was no doubt. He was attracted to her personality and to her physically. Whenever they’d been intimate, he felt immeasurably close to her but equally far away the moment their bodies were apart. He remembered many times afterwards, sitting over her, watching her sleep, thinking that their union was condemnation for her, that her association with him could bring sudden and horrible death at any moment. This was irrational, of course, since virtually nothing could hurt or even touch Hilene unless she wished it, but it was a feeling he could not escape.

Once the constant weight of her presence was lifted, his mood—and perhaps his mind—had deteriorated. She had been at least a partial balm to him and now all that power to alleviate was gone. He could not have a conversation with anyone, not even Raus, without losing his patience. He couldn’t spar with anyone, not even Vays, without his aggression building to a point that invariably resulted in injuries to all but himself. Luckily, Icsain had given up on attempts to goad him or there may have been a serious altercation between the two with an uncertain outcome. The last eight decades—was it so many?—with Hilene by his side were a blur, not replete with happiness, surely, but when compared to this last year, they seemed an enviable paradise and one that he would give anything to set foot in again. He knew that she could never take the place of the woman he was
supposed
to be with, but he preferred her presence to her absence. He also knew that this was impossible.