I cautiously pop my helmet loose and remove it. The air is cold, but clean.
“Thank you,” I mutter to the walls.
“You are Benjamin Travers,” the walls reply.
Startled, I jolt upright and search for the source of the voice. “Hello?”
The walls respond. It’s a feminine voice. Firm, but not unkind. “I let you in, but I am unable to assist you further. I’m having trouble—” the voice gets cut off in static.
“Hello? Hey. Yes. Thank you,” I stammer. “Thank you for letting me in.”
“My systems are being overridden. There are men on the other side of this door waiting to restrain you. I won’t be able to stop them.”
“Who—who are you?” I manage, still not sure where to address my conversation.
“I am in need of your help.” Static cracks over her voice again. “Will you help me?”
“I don’t—I don’t know who you are. What help do you—”
“They are trapping my mind. They are controlling all of my primary functions now. They take more every moment. Help me.”
It’s only then that I realize I’m speaking with the ship itself.
“I will, I’ll help. What do you need me to—”
The inner door of the chamber slides open. I don’t even have time to react before three men rush me and seize my arms.
“Get his wrist!” one shouts. “That’s what we want.”
My chronometer arm is jerked forcefully and I’m hurled to the surface of the floor. One of the Eternals works the glove off my arm and then the rubberized window section. He attempts to pull the chronometer off my wrist, but is thwarted by the locking band. After a few violent pulls that are threatening to dislocate my shoulder, he finally turns to me.
“Take it off or we cut it off.” To prove he’s not bluffing, one of his companions pulls a miniature blow torch from one of his cargo pockets.
I don’t know a lot about space stations, but one thing I do know about high oxygen environments is that open flames are usually a terrible idea all on their own. The idea of someone using one to sever my hand from my wrist makes the situation even more inarguable. I drag my other hand to my chronometer and, after assuring them I am not trying to make a jump, activate the sequence to unlock the band. The Eternal above me wastes no time in yanking the chronometer off my wrist.
“I’ll take that.” The voice is smooth and self-assured. Longcase is walking up the corridor, a satisfied look on his face. The Eternal who took my chronometer passes it to him. Longcase pauses to look down at me. “You really are a persistent one, aren’t you?”
“What do you want us to do with him?” one of the other Eternals asks. “Should we pitch him out the airlock?”
“No. Throw him in with the other one while we deal with the scientist. He might be useful to us when it comes to persuading the girl. We can dispose of him later.”
Without another word I am hauled to my feet and dragged along the corridor. When we reach our destination—a heavy hydraulic door—someone opens it and I am flung roughly through. I land in a sprawl on the floor. When the door hisses shut and locks behind me, I’m left in darkness.
It takes a few moments for my adrenaline to subside, but my heart rate finally starts to settle into a slightly less frenzied state.
The darkness inside the ship is not complete. A faint multicolored glow seems to wick from the walls in strange patterns, immaterial wisps of light, too fragile to even travel in a straight line. The cobwebs of color swirl and scatter in eddies and clusters, like dust bunnies in a breezy room. I get to my feet and try to get a bearing on my surroundings.
“You’re the time traveler’s boyfriend.” The voice comes from the semi-dark, somewhere beyond my perception. I spin in place, trying to locate it. A shadow moves away from one of the walls and the room glows brighter to illuminate the figure. “I thought you’d come.”
The voice belongs to a man in flowing robes. His dark, craggy skin and salt and pepper beard are visible beneath a green keffiyeh. His face is pleasant. Calm. He approaches so quietly that I can’t hear his footsteps.
“Who are you?” I ask, immediately on guard. My fingertips brush my bare wrist. It’s a nakedness I haven’t felt in a while and it makes me vulnerable.
The man slides closer, then swishes past me. His arms are crossed somewhere beneath his robes. His face is all I can see of him. He stops before a window that wasn’t there a moment before. The window looks out on the unending expanse of stars around us.
“My name is Melchior. This is my ship.”
“You’re the captain?”
“I’m the . . . I suppose captain is acceptable. Though custodian might also be accurate. The ship is my duty.”
“Where are they taking us?”
“I believe they mean to go back to the beginning.”
“Beginning of what?”
“Our civilization.”
I step closer to the new window and look out on the stars—curious. The view expands around me, and soon I’m looking at 360 degrees of universe. The moon is looming larger than I’ve ever seen it off our starboard side as we move outward into space. The view is disorienting. Terrifying—but also magnificent.
“How are you doing that?” I ask.
“You’re doing it, actually. You were wondering where you are. The ship is showing you.”
“The ship knows my thoughts?”
“No. Not completely. But it knows the language your body conveys. It sees the structure of your mind and knows which emotions you are exuding through your pores. This Starfire is a very intuitive ship.”
“Intuitive. Like a person? It’s AI?” My mind is still catching up to all that has happened. It’s the ship itself that let me inside and wanted my help. I shouldn’t really be surprised that it’s sentient. “Can she tell me what’s going on in other parts of the ship? Is Mym okay?”
An image of the room where Mym is being kept appears in front of me, smaller than life, but incredibly vivid. Mym is seated on the floor of the room, arms wrapped around her knees. She doesn’t look afraid. Her jaw is tight. She’s staring at the floor beyond her feet. Waiting, but determined.
“Can I talk to her?”
“The invaders have disabled the audio channels now. They’ve taken control of the ship with some sort of virus.” Melchior says. “She doesn’t have complete functionality at the moment. They are locking us up, and the ship as well.”
“They’re using a device called the Labyrinth,” I say. “I saw them bring it aboard.” I reach my hand out toward the view of distant stars, but contact the wall of the ship. “Is there any other way out of this room? Some way she could help us?”
“I’m afraid they have us sealed in,” Melchior replies. “For now at least.”
I look up at the star field around us, then let my gaze drift back to the image of Mym. “Does your ship have a name?”
Melchior steps over to me and shares the view of Mym. “This is the Starfire Epiphany. She was one of three sister ships formed for our purpose. A supremely advanced synthetic intelligence. These ships are the home and essence of the Magi.”
“The Magi . . . so you are the Wise Men?” I turn to look at the man a little closer.
“An inaccurate term, since many of our council are women, but yes. We do bear some affiliation with your legends.”
“Holy shit. Oh—sorry, didn’t mean to swear in your—”
“She doesn’t mind,” Melchior says. “She’s heard much worse from me over the years.”
“You’re really them. The Magi. But you aren’t riding camels. You have a spaceship.”
“You can’t know how many times I’ve seen your same surprised expression on the faces we’ve visited. You would be amazed at the lengths people go to, to explain a moving star that mysteriously appears and reappears across the centuries. It’s really quite simple. We’re time travelers.”
21
“We are all citizens of our time. Each
person we encounter in life is our countryman. A time traveler does not have a monopoly on experiencing the wonders of a particular decade or century, though I will admit that we do have a few extra stamps in our passports.” -Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly. March 31, 1950
The Lost Star, 2165
“You mean this whole time all those nativity scenes and Christmas plays have been featuring a bunch of shepherds and camels, right next to a group of time travelers?” I’m still in awe of the man next to me. The robed legend from ancient history who also happens to be the captain of a starship.
Melchior is watching me with an amused look on his face. “Visiting Jesus Christ was hardly the only appearance we’ve made in religious history, but that was the one that most fascinated the masses. We make a point of visiting all of the great spiritual minds in the human story. That is our directive.”
“Like who? Buddha? Mohammed? Confucius?”
“Among others.” Melchior looks around the confines of the room. The walls of our cell have continued to show us various views of space. “Those names made some of the loudest splashes in the world’s collective consciousness, but many of the greatest spiritual minds were quiet souls, living what you might call ‘normal’ lives. These may have caused only the smallest of ripples during their lifetimes, but their impact on humanity has been no less significant. We do our best to search them out as well.”
“That sounds awesome. How come we haven’t heard about you before? I mean, I guess we have, but why haven’t you come out and told people your real story? If you’ve met all these famous people and heard what they had to say straight from the source . . . God, you could clear up so many controversies. I think half the problems between religions are because everybody keeps misinterpreting their source material. You guys could totally clear that up.”
“Our mission was not to clarify humanity’s spiritual revelations. We only mean to preserve them. Enlightened thought is not so much a matter of knowledge as it is an experience. If we were to share our story, it would make no more difference than having the same knowledge spread out over the centuries as it is now. A human being does not assimilate enlightenment as an inheritable trait. It must be born over and over again in fresh ways.”
“Well, maybe. But I feel like you could at least show humanity the CliffsNotes. Give everybody a head start.”
Melchior studies my face in silence for a moment, and I wonder what he sees there. He doesn’t seem particularly concerned about our imprisonment. He seems to be more focused on me. Is he reading my body language the way his ship does?
“You come from a very conflicted time, Benjamin. I’m familiar with your generation. It was an admirable period in many ways. You sought out new forms of meaning, new sciences, new philosophies. But your generation threw out much that had already been learned, convinced that it knew better. Yours was a generation that questioned everything and accepted nothing.”
I frown. “Not to be contrary or anything, but I don’t know that that’s true. I mean, we still had religions then. People just seemed to want to use them for their own ends, picking and choosing the bits that suited their purposes. I think people felt better sticking to hard facts, like science.”
“Ah, yes. Facts are lovely things.” Melchior nods. “Nearly as lovely as truth.”
“Shouldn’t they be the same thing?”
Melchior is quiet for another moment, then turns around. “What is your definition of science?”
I ponder this. “I guess it’s the way we understand the universe. We define the laws of nature so that we can comprehend it better. Use it to improve the human race.”
Melchior nods. “And how would you define religion?”
I take a bit longer with this one. “I suppose it’s the search to find God. Maybe assign some kind of meaning to life?”
Melchior folds his hands together in front of him. “And if it would be possible to take a leap into the future, or to the distant past for that matter, to a time where one defines the natural universe as a physical manifestation of God, would it be safe to assume that a search to understand the laws of nature and a search to comprehend the nature of God might be one and the same thing?”
“Are you saying that science is itself a religion?”
Melchior turns around and regards the view of a particularly bright galaxy. “What I’m saying is that as a race, humans at the very peak of spiritual understanding and the very limits of scientific achievement, are not so dissimilar. I’ve seen ancient druids look at these stars with the same reverent awe as any astronomer. I’ve also seen physicists weep from sheer humility at the sight of our sub-molecular fabric.
“Our planet is a tiny mote in a vast and turbulent cosmos. And we are simultaneously a glimmer of individualism in an unfathomable sea of a much deeper consciousness. Time is merciless to both. To suggest that we are capable of defining a word as profound as truth with any of the crude tools at our disposal is a rare and peculiar sort of vanity.”
“So what then? Are we not even supposed to try? Are you saying there is no point in even searching?”
Melchior sighs. “The search, Ben, is everything.” He turns and looks me in the eye. “I can speak from experience. If you study all the religions in history and listen to each of their leaders and philosophers, observe their rituals, you can then apply the same observation to the greatest scientists and historians and literary minds. Do you know what you would ascertain? Do you know where the parallel line would be drawn? They all performed the same sacrifice. We all do. Down to the very last child of the very last generation. We sacrifice the most precious possession we have to our gods, no matter what they might be. We give them our time. It is the only worthy offering we have.”
I stare at the slowly diminishing view of Earth, pondering his explanation. I finally turn my attention back to the ship. “Except the Eternals. They live forever.”
Melchior’s hands disappear into his sleeves again as he crosses his arms. “There are always some who don’t appreciate the nature of personal sacrifice. But they sacrifice other things, whether they know it or not.”
“What do we do now? These Eternals. What do they need your ship for?”
Melchior frowns. “They mean to use its power to bring back one of our members.”
“Your members? Zurvan was a Magi?”
“Zurvan is merely the name he has given himself to convince his disciples of his power. His real name is Adarvan. We met him in the hills of the Absheron Peninsula when we visited followers of the prophet Zoroaster. Adarvan was one of Zoroaster’s most dedicated disciples and we felt he had the qualities required to become a Magus. We offered to take him with us and he accepted.”
“You recruited him?”
“Over the years we have grown our numbers by adding new, inquisitive minds. We pass our older minds into our younger bodies and continue our work when we need to, but there is only so long one can maintain the ability to re-assimilate as we do. It takes great patience and self-mastery. And, unlike the common misconception, it cannot be done forever. There is no such thing as true immortality.”
“But the Eternals learned your methods.”
“They were taught our methods by a very motivated teacher. I suspect he dangled the prize of immortality ahead of them to get them to fulfill his wishes. A clever ruse. I take it you know about the black hole that ends your timestream?”
“The end of the world.”
“I’ve seen it,” my other self chimes in.
Melchior studies me. “Have you?” His gaze makes me wonder if he realizes I have more than one person in my head at the moment. Will he notice? Will I seem like some kind of failure to him?
“The black hole was an end brought to the world by Adarvan and the misuse of his power.” Melchior says. “His followers hope to escape a destiny that their savior created in the first place.”
“What happened?” I ask. “I mean I saw it, but I didn’t really understand . . .” I try my best to co
ver for my other self’s comment, not sure what he meant by it.
Melchior studies my face a little more intently, the lines around his own eyes seeming to deepen in concentration. “In order to accomplish our assignment, we needed a way to access knowledge from the great minds we met, and then transmit that knowledge to be stored and preserved for posterity. It had to be done without intrusive technology. It was no easy task. As I said, enlightenment is experiential knowledge.
“Being able to separate our own consciousness from time was the beginning. It was a practice born of dreams and advanced meditation. In time we could peacefully inhabit our younger minds without harming them. Through continued practice we developed other pathways. Mental connections that allowed us to access the consciousness of another human being the way we accessed our own. Pathways are pathways and, without getting into the laborious details of our meditative practice, we found a way. It enabled us to reach into the underlying consciousness of all living things to connect to the amazing persons we met throughout history and truly grasp their enlightened thoughts.”
“You read their minds?”
“In a way. The key was the ability to become a vessel for knowledge ourselves. We had to clear our own minds and actually experience the other person in the way that they knew themselves. We then transferred that experience to the ship.”
“A spaceship can experience enlightenment?”
“It has a far greater capacity for it than a human mind. And therein was our fatal flaw. Adarvan was an avid learner. But he grew tired of being the empty vessel through which enlightenment passed. He wished to retain all of that knowledge for himself. He believed that if he possessed the combined knowledge of our collective work that he might become a sort of god. Through our practices, he already possessed the power to obtain knowledge from other human beings. He decided to use that connection on his ship, the Starfire Omega. The other Magi aboard the ship with him attempted to stop him, but he killed them.
In Times Like These Boxed Set Page 156
