Crucible of Time

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  With that, she was sure, the thing was gone.

  If only she had done it sooner!

  The starstream boomed and reverberated from the wrenching she had imposed on local space-time. But the fragile ghoststream still seemed intact. Go, travelers! No time for caution! She needed to get to Bria!

  ***

  Bria felt that she was dying; but she was not dead yet. She was tumbling, spasming, flying away from everyone she cared about. She felt Charli still with her, and together their hearts were filled with pain and terror. She didn’t even really know what had happened. But she could feel herself coming apart into the many dimensions she inhabited, and no one could survive that.

  But she still had her mind and her hope, for a few moments more, at least.

  And of all things, she still heard that voice, the one Dark had wanted her to listen to. It was important somehow. It was coming from way up the ghostly stream. It seemed to be calling to them. It said its name was Antares, and it was calling down the stream to Ik and Julie—the beings Bria had come to help!

  From within herself, she barely heard Charli’s voice:

  /// I don’t think they can reach Antares

  or hear her.

  Can we bring them together—somehow? ///

  Would that save them? Would that accomplish what she had come here to do? Would it save Dark’s friends?

  Yes, Bria thought. If we can do that one thing . . .

  ***

  Dark was stretched downtime, and it was torturous for her, but she caught Bria and cradled the gokat there in the twisted, half-wrecked emptiness of the merged streams. She spoke softly to the little one. “I have destroyed the one who did this to you. If I knew how to save you, I would. But I will try to help you now. Hold tight, little one.”

  The gokat responded weakly. She still had enough life to bristle at being called “little one.” It seemed to Dark she was clinging to the time thread, to the thing they called the ghoststream. She heard that voice at the far end now, the voice calling itself Antares, whom Dark could barely hear at this point.

  Dark wasn’t really sure what to do, but perhaps she could add some energy to strengthen that thread, to keep it straight and open. She’d done something like that in a star once, to help Deep. That had ended in success but terrible sadness, and she feared this might end the same. But it was too soon to grieve. Bria was still here, trying to finish the job. Dark had to help her bring Ik and Julie and Antares together again, if she could.

  With extreme care, she bent her thought toward boosting the signal strength in the ghoststream.

  “Antares, if you can hear me, keep trying!

  “Bria, and traveling friends, join yourself to Antares’ voice. Put everything you have into it.”

  Dark felt her speaking stones sparking with life and connection, not quite able to do it themselves, but able to touch Bria and boost her along.

  ***

  /Hrah! Dark, is that you?/ Ik asked in astonishment. He felt his voice-stones make a connection, and he knew it was. How could Dark be here? It was impossible, and yet she was, nonetheless—telling him to join himself to . . .

  Antares?

  That was astonishing. But he sensed Julie having a similar reaction. And there was Bria—no longer providing a strong, steady light of guidance, but sputtering like a failing torch, just bright enough to open up the ghoststream. And . . . there was someone else, just a voice . . .

  *It is Antares, truly. A long distance away. We feel her voice-stones.*

  /Is she in the ghoststream? Is she coming this way?/

  And he heard Julie gasping to her own stones, /If she is, we have to warn her back! It’s too dangerous!/

  *She is far up the stream. She is rescuing us.*

  Ik wasn’t even sure whose stones had just spoken. But the next voice he heard was Dark’s, and she spoke with terrible urgency. “Bria has reached her! She has reached up the stream for Antares! We must join you to her before she—"

  Dark’s voice cut off, and energy seemed to flow out of her like glowing matter out of a white hole, strengthening the connection. It felt to Ik as if he were being flung by an enormous blast of static. Then the signal steadied, and he heard a thin voice: /Ik? Julie? Can you hear me?/

  /Yes!/ Ik and Julie cried in unison.

  In that instant, he felt Antares, or her stones, reach out from somewhere beyond infinity to hook a line around him, and around Julie. And an instant later he felt, rather than heard, a soft cry that sounded like a small creature sighing, and he felt a spark of life go out of the ghoststream.

  ***

  The end for Bria came gently, even through the haze of pain. The Charli part of her held on to the very end, and was an intimate witness to the gokat’s death, the spirit slipping out of the tiny, torn body—but not before she’d accomplished her final act and flashed a glimmer of satisfaction to her semi-quarx partner. The Charli-part lingered long enough to pay her own tribute to the gokat.

  /// You have done well,

  my two-dimensional friend.

  Rest, now. Rest. ///

  And with that, the Charli-part, too, evaporated and passed into the busy emptiness of n-space.

  ***

  Dark watched her friend die, and she wept inwardly, remembering, as she grieved for Bria, all of the friends she had lost before this, especially Deep, but also stars whom she had known and shared with. They all concatenated into a daisy-chain of grief, and became one single cry of pain. In the weight of that grief, this little gokat was no less than the greatest of the talking suns. Bria. Little Bria.

  Then Dark poured all of her concentration into making absolutely certain that the ghoststream held, while Ik and Julie flowed back into it and were pulled with dizzying speed back toward Shipworld, toward their present time and the waiting Antares.

  Chapter 30

  Aftershocks

  CHARLI HAD WATCHED helplessly as the Mindaru struck Bria. It was a terrible blow, the death of the gokat, and a part of Charli herself. She’d known going in how dangerous the Mindaru were—but even so, she was unprepared for the shock. It was not that she had known the gokat so well. Prior to Charli’s separation from Bandicut, she had seen Bria only through John’s eyes. But when she joined thoughts with the gokat, that all changed. Their time together was brief, but long enough for the lonely quarx to receive a glimpse into the creature’s soul, to gain a sense of her sly sense of play, and her fierce loyalty to her tribe. Stealing weapons from soldiers on Uduon and sending them into alter-space (so satisfying)! And after that, defeating not just one Mindaru, but several!

  After all that, Bria had come here, in an act of loyalty to Dark, to save people she didn’t even know. And now she was gone.

  If anyone was responsible for Bria’s death, besides the Mindaru, it was Charli. She had called on Dark and Bria to help her save her friends. She’d put them both in harm’s way—and Bria had died for it. So had the piece of Charli that was riding with her; and the death of that part of herself was another ripping wound.

  Others would feel the loss as well, she knew. Ruall, of course, but also John and Li-Jared. Was there any way she could get word to them of what had happened—that their small friend had died well, fighting the enemy? That her loss was not in vain? Bria had helped Ik and Julie escape from the Mindaru, and that was a triumph not just for her, but for the mission they all served.

  The mission. Why was it that so often her missions took the lives of the people she most cared for?

  ***

  Charli became aware of Dark circling. She called out to the shadowy being.

  /// How much did you see? ///

  Dark moved in a somber arc, from one side to the other, and up and down, as though hunting for any remnant sign of the gokat. Her voice filled the space surrounding Charli.

  “I felt her spirit go. I grieve.”

  /// I grieve, too.

  But not for what she’s done.

  It was a remarkable rescue. ///
/>   “It was. It seemed to me that some part of you was with her. What does that part say?”

  /// That part of me died with her, ///

  Charli answered, a crushing weight coming over her as she spoke. Was some bit of them still adrift out there in the starstream? Who could say? The starstream was a nearly limitless place, but she had no heart right now to think about it.

  “I am sorry. I hope we succeeded. I can no longer see Ik and the human.”

  No. Ik and Julie were gone from Charli’s field of view, also. She hoped they had made a clean return to Shipworld, and to their present. There was nothing more she could do for them.

  As for her, she did not much like this starstream. It carried pain down its river. Too much pain.

  ***

  Antares had no idea what just happened, far down the ghoststream, but she had felt the unmistakable presence of Dark, who seemed to recognize her even at such a distance. Dark! How could that be? Wasn’t Dark off in the galaxy somewhere? And then . . . she had felt, or imagined she felt, the touch of Charli, John’s quarx! Charli! But without John. Surely that was impossible. Was she hallucinating?

  It had all been so disorienting; she felt reality spinning around her. But Dark had tried to speak, and her knowing-stones buzzed with a connection that seemed to release a powerful wave of something that caught her and spun her into a higher state of energy and reach. And suddenly there they were, far down the stream: Ik, and Julie, billowing up the ghoststream toward her.

  Antares wondered dizzily if this was what a tornado felt like.

  ***

  Ik was stunned to realize it was Antares he felt at the end of the connection. How was that possible, unless she had entered the ghoststream herself? Had she come to find them?

  He strained to call out to her. But then she was gone in a rush of static and a pounding beat—as though the passing eons were beating time. /Julie, did you hear that?/ he cried. He had to look to confirm that Julie was, thank the stars, right beside him. Everyone else had vanished behind them.

  /Whatever they did back there . . . / Julie managed, struggling to speak. /Are we on our way home?/

  Whatever they did, Ik thought. Charli and Dark and some tiny creature he’d never gotten a good look at . . . together, had freed Ik and Julie from where they were stuck, and had somehow protected them from a threatening Mindaru. But at what cost? Ik was certain he had felt a death, and not just the Mindaru’s. He thought maybe that someone was the smallest of them.

  The pulsing rhythm grew more and more frantic around them. It was in the ghoststream walls, like an underground train rumbling in the dark at breakneck speed. It felt as though they were being reeled in by a tremendous winch, the light-years and time-years flying past by the millions, Antares somehow there with them, too . . .

  ***

  Antares poured all of her own strength into the connection, trying to pull them close. She was not going to lose them now! /Hold on to me! Don’t let go!/

  There was so much noise and confusion in the whirlwind, she could not hear their answer, if there was any. No matter; she had her feet rooted in the present and her arms stretched down into the deep past, and she simply pulled, and pulled.

  And somewhere in that effort, something slipped . . .

  For an instant, she was terrified that she’d lost them, back in deep time. But that wasn’t it. She had lost her grip on them—and Ik and Julie sailed past her like a cracked whip. Antares fought like crazy to catch them again, to break their speed through time, but she couldn’t get a grip on them. Pain flashed through her as the connection sizzled and parted. Ik and Julie flew by into the future, and were gone.

  And Antares crashed home in a sheet of white light.

  Chapter 31

  Shipworld Fleet

  THE NAVAL SQUADRON from Shipworld was six vessels strong. They closed into a matching orbit, and one, slightly larger than the others, dispatched a shuttle to The Long View.

  Bandicut and Ruall met the fleet commander in the meeting room where they had entertained the Plato crew, just two days earlier. The Long View was feeling rather empty, as Li-Jared and Ocellet Quin had gone back planetside with the two Uduon for a brief visit, and a team from Plato, led by Dakota Bandicut, had done likewise. The Shipworld fleet commander, Torno, was a Skakolloan, a terrier-faced biped with eyes that bulged slightly, giving him an alarmingly agitated appearance. His support staff consisted of one other of his own species, and two tripedal Madharrassi, who stayed quietly in the background. Introductions were a little confusing at first, due to translation difficulties—none of them had translator-stones—until the new arrivals managed to get their own translation devices properly calibrated to speak with Bandicut and Ruall.

  Once they had actual conversation going, Bandicut discovered that Commander Torno had a sense of humor and reasonable communication skills, which was a relief after their early experiences with Ruall. Torno had reviewed Jeaves' summary report on their mission, but he wanted to go over the whole thing and hear it in Bandicut’s and Ruall’s words, from beginning to end.

  He listened intently, stopping them occasionally to let the translator catch up, or to ask for clarification. The Long View’s story was a long one, with multiple first contacts and battles—but what most provoked tooth-baring interest on Torno’s face was the appearance of Dark, and the surprise meeting with the human ship Plato. Torno’s own fleet had not entered the starstream, but had humped it all the way here through ordinary n-space. When the report was finished, Commander Torno asked what help The Long View crew needed. “You’ve won the peace—hah! How can we help you hold it?”

  “Well,” Bandicut said, “if you’re going to stick around, you can help safeguard the system by making sure no more Mindaru wander in. We’re in a very fragile state between Karellia and Uduon.”

  “Hah! You want to make sure they don’t start shooting at each other again!”

  “Well, yes. But more than that. Right now, there is no means of transportation or even communication between their planets. I am hoping you can help with that. We need a means for the worlds to talk to one another, and for representatives to travel back and forth. Our Uduon guests must return home soon, to tell their people what has been happening. We were planning to take them. But perhaps with the ships you have available . . .”

  Torno made a whuffing sound. “We can do that, of course. I think that would be better. We can detach a ship or two for courier duty, and we are prepared to send study teams to both worlds.”

  Ruall rang softly at the first part of that, causing Bandicut to say, “Is there a particular reason why you say it would be better for you to take them?”

  Torno scratched behind his floppy ears. “Wh-ell, yes. Perhaps we should tell you now? Our orders include orders for you. You are requested to return to Shipworld as soon as possible after the immediate crisis is resolved.”

  “Why’s that? Is there a rush?”

  “Yes and no,” Torno answered. “There is some urgency.” He scratched behind his ears again. “You are aware there was a parallel mission to yours, directly down the timestream? All the way back to where the Mindaru came from?”

  Bandicut started to nod slowly—was this to be his first formal briefing on it?—and then the full meaning of Torno’s words struck home. “Wait—what are you saying? Back in time to where they started? That’s millions of years! Billions, I think!” He glanced at Ruall, who appeared to be vibrating with contained emotion. “Are you serious?”

  Torno shook his head with vigor, his ears flapping. “I don’t really know the details.” He seemed perturbed. “That mission was not well coordinated with your mission, I am afraid.”

  “Not coordinated at all, as far as I know!” Bandicut muttered.

  “Yes. Politics, I suppose. Nothing to be proud of.”

  “But why? What was the other mission sent to do?”

  “Well, I know pretty damn little about it myself,” said Torno. “But the Peloi who sent us m
ade clear their urgency to reconcile the two missions, you see? Great concern about avoiding accidental time effects.” He made another whuffling sound. “Something like that. The Peloi said they were made aware of the other mission only after your departure. They indicated you may be familiar with some members of the other team. Someone named Ik? And someone named . . . Stone?”

  Bandicut closed his eyes. He felt a boa constrictor coiling around his throat. Ik—and somehow Julie—had been sent back in deep time? Billions of years? Why? He could barely wrap his mind around the idea. To stop the Mindaru? To make an end-run around The Long View’s mission—in case they failed? Why would anyone in Shipworld do such a thing without coordinating the two efforts? He tried to keep from flinching, but the dog-faced Torno grunted softly and cocked his head. “You do know them, then? I’m sorry that I cannot tell you their status. I have no information about that.”

  The boa constrictor tightened a little more.

  Torno cocked his head the other way. “We must hope for the best. I imagine the fastest way to learn more is to make haste back to Shipworld. May I ask when you plan to depart? Do you have any unfinished business in this star system?”

  “Well, yes,” said Bandicut with difficulty. “Several things—”

  Before he could finish speaking, Ruall spun and clanged. “We have a missing crew member. I fear we may be forced to undertake a search.”

  Bandicut winced. He felt Ruall’s raw pain, but he was at a loss as to how to search for Bria. Space was terribly large, and they didn’t know where to start.

  “I believe,” Ruall rang, “she may have gone back toward the starstream with Dark.”

  That made Bandicut take a sharp breath. Toward the starstream was a huge space to search. “Are you sure? Have you found a trail?”