Crucible of Time

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  Ruall spun once and bobbed. “No physical evidence. But before Dark disappeared, she spoke of Mindaru in the starstream, of trying to block any further—”

  “Yes, but why would that include Bria?”

  Ruall was starting her low cymbal sound of uneasy thought. “Bria had become quite interested in working with Dark. I believe she may have followed her.”

  “That’s not a lot to go on.”

  The cymbal rang, taut with pain. “Maybe not. But it’s the best I have.” Ruall spun in place. “I intend to try to reach Dark. But that might not be possible from here. We might have to go ourselves.”

  Bandicut puffed his cheeks and exhaled. “Well, we can’t leave until we’re sure Akura and Sheeawn are being taken care of. We also have to escort Plato, once they bring their team back up from the planet, and help them reenter the starstream. That involves meeting up with Dark. But yeah, sure, once we have things under control here.”

  Torno looked from one to the other, and waggled his hands in a shrug.

  Jeaves appeared then with a serving cart and offered refreshments. Holding small plates, Torno and his aides wandered over to gaze out the observation bubble Copernicus had given them on the outboard side of the room. Karellia floated fat and serene against the backdrop of the Heart of Fire clouds. Jeaves stood with them, and as he began pointing out some of the surface features of the planet, Bandicut sat down at the table, holding a mug of coffee and his own thoughts.

  ***

  His thoughts were somewhere in the starstream, wondering where Ik and Julie were—and Antares and Napoleon!—when Copernicus’s voice rattled the air through the intercom speaker. “Can you come to the bridge, Cap’n? And Ruall? I’ve just heard from Dark.”

  Bandicut’s gaze latched onto Ruall—and then she was gone in a blink, and Bandicut called an apology to Torno and the others. Hurrying onto the bridge, he found Ruall bobbing at the front of the viewspace, as though peering into the distance. Copernicus was rolling back and forth with impatience, until he saw Bandicut. “Ah, Cap’n! Dark is coming alongside. She says she needs to speak to us urgently. Shall I call our guests to the bridge, as well?”

  Bandicut shook his head. “No, let’s find out what it is first.” He hurried up alongside Ruall. He felt an irrational urge to put an arm around the fretting Tintangle. But Ruall was blinking in and out of view, perhaps jaunting in and out of the ship, searching for Bria. Bandicut wanted to say he knew how she felt, but how could he convey that to the Tintangle? Were her feelings the same as what he felt about Charli? He had no idea.

  Minutes later, a shadow that was just a little darker than space hove into view and floated, barely visible except for two twinkling translator-stones in its heart. For a moment, no one spoke—and then Ruall and Bandicut spoke at once. “Dark—” began Bandicut, while Ruall clanged, “Do you know the whereabouts of Bria?”

  Bandicut felt an immediate twinge in his wrist-stones, as they communicated with Dark’s. Something was wrong, something terrible. But also something was good.

  Dark spoke. “I met Charli in the starstream.”

  Charli! Bandicut’s heart leaped. Charli’s alive!

  “Also your friend Ik. And another, named Julie.”

  Bandicut reeled, not even knowing how to react. Dark continued without pausing:

  “Also Mindaru. There was a great battle. Bria came to help.”

  Beside Bandicut, Ruall started to shake. Dark continued, in terse phrases. The fight had been a bad one. Bria made contact with the friends, helped them get away. A terrifyingly near thing. The Mindaru was broken. But . . .

  And Dark paused, while Bandicut’s heart cried out with joy that his friends had escaped. But . . .

  Bandicut’s joy shut down. “What? What happened?”

  Dark’s words became a moan. “Bria died. Struck down by the Mindaru. I could not stop it. Too far away. She saved the others—with her life . . .”

  A metallic, dissonant wail filled the bridge. It was Ruall, vibrating uncontrollably, the pitch of her cry rising and falling in her distress. She blurred in the viewspace, spinning and fading in and out of the continuum, neither fully present nor absent. Three times he saw her outside the ship, near Dark, and then she was back on the bridge.

  “BRIAAAA!! BRIAAA-A-A-A!!” Ruall’s cry filled the bridge, and echoed back from the light-years and the eons.

  Dark continued speaking, perhaps unaware of Ruall’s outpouring of grief. Copernicus finally stopped her, and they all waited in mournful silence until Ruall’s last wail faded away. Her voice rang dully. “Are you certain . . . she died? And did not just . . . disappear?”

  “I am sorry. I felt her die. I also felt . . . a part of Charli die.”

  Bandicut felt the blood drain from his face, and nearly staggered. “Charli?” he whispered. He forced his voice to work. “I didn’t know Charli was alive. But now you say she’s died?”

  “She lives, in the stream. But a part of her died. The part that was with Bria.”

  Bandicut shook his head, trying to absorb it all. Charli in the starstream, in Bria, part of her dying. How much loss and grief could one quarx survive? Even before coming to Bandicut, she had suffered terrible losses. Then with Bandicut, multiple deaths of her own, and the splitting of herself on the Starmaker mission; a part of her had gone with Deep when Deep was lost to this universe. Then, being ripped from Bandicut in their battle in the starstream. Now this.

  Bandicut felt every muscle in his body tighten. “Dark, did you say that the others, that Julie and Ik, got away?”

  “We believe so. Antares reached them. Pulled them back toward that place where you live.”

  Antares! Now he did stagger. “Toward Shipworld?” he managed.

  “Toward Shipworld. Toward your present. Toward your now.”

  Bandicut’s heart thundered. Saved! By Antares! On their way back to Shipworld! He wondered what their mission had been, and whether they had succeeded. He felt a sudden, overpowering need to return to Shipworld. To see them all again. His work here was done. It was time to go home.

  And then he looked at Ruall, and her grief stabbed his heart. What could they possibly do for Ruall? How could they help her in her grief?

  “Ruall,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry—”

  But the Tintangle was already speaking. “We must finalize our arrangements, then, and leave for home as soon as possible.”

  “Wait, Ruall.” She seemed about to sweep away, and he moved to stop her. “Listen, do you need some time to . . . I don’t know . . . go to the scene, maybe, and see what you can learn?”

  Ruall seemed to brush off the suggestion. “We must move quickly,” she bonged, in as expressionless a tone as Bandicut had ever heard from her. “They need us back at Shipworld. Let’s arrange for the Uduon, finish up with Quin and Karellia, and be on our way.” With that, she spun in place and then winked out.

  Bandicut was left staring at empty space, stunned by how quickly victory had turned to ashes.

  Chapter 32

  Disagreements Among Friends

  TWO DAYS LATER, the lander rose from the planet twice, with Jeaves in control. First it brought the Plato ground team back to their own ship from a “first contact” meeting with Karellian officials. The second flight brought Li-Jared, Ocellet Quin, and the two Uduon back from their own meetings with the Council. Bandicut asked, somewhat distractedly, how it had gone this time. He was still shaken up by the news from Dark, and Ruall’s hard-edged intensity since learning of Bria’s death hadn’t helped.

  Quin seemed to sense that something had changed, and she tilted her head a little as she answered his question. “It went better than it might have, but it wasn’t easy.” Introducing the Council to their former sworn enemies, the Uduon, plus the sudden visit from the humans, and the news that more ships had arrived from Shipworld, had left most of the Council reeling. Nevertheless, they were willing to undertake diplomacy with Uduon.

  Bandicut accepted that witho
ut comment, and glanced at Li-Jared, who was watching him in silence. He opened his hands slightly, inviting Li-Jared to speak.

  Li-Jared exhibited none of Quin’s reserve. “What’s—” bong “—going on here, Bandie? You look like you’ve stared into the abyss and didn’t like what you saw. What’s the problem? Is something wrong with the Shipworld fleet?”

  Bandicut told them everything Dark had reported. Li-Jared’s face brightened when he heard that Charli was still alive, and that Ik and Julie were apparently on their way home—but upon learning of Bria’s death, he sagged in shock. He bonged mournfully, and did not move a muscle until Quin said, softly, “I am sorry, Li-Jared. And John Bandicut.” She extended her left hand, and Li-Jared took it and squeezed it, and then he turned away to gaze out the observation dome.

  Finally he spoke to the distant stars. “There’s always a price, isn’t there? Always a price.”

  ***

  A short time later, Ruall entered the meeting room and asked them to gather around. Her voice was low but metal-hard. “We must make our plans for departure.”

  Li-Jared started visibly, but it was Quin who said, “So soon?”

  Ruall responded by moving off a little way, as if to leave it to Bandicut to explain. With some reluctance, he did. “We’re being called back to Shipworld. But the new Shipworld squadron will stay on to help out, especially if any more Mindaru show up. I’ll introduce you to their commander. I hope you’ll let them make more permanent contact with both of your worlds.”

  Quin looked unsettled by those words. The people she had come to trust were leaving, and strangers taking their place? Bandicut felt that he could read her thoughts, but he had no answer. He shifted his gaze to the Uduon. “Watcher Akura, would it be agreeable for you and Sheeawn to fly back home aboard one of our sister ships? Commander Torno, of the lead ship, has offered to place two vessels at your disposal—to transport you back and forth between Uduon and Karellia, and to set up long-range communications. Also, to establish their own contact with your people, if you are willing.”

  Akura gazed at him gravely before answering, with an inclination of her head toward her right shoulder. “We accept, of course,” she murmured. “But—” and she and Sheeawn went back and forth for a moment, before Sheeawn continued the translation, “—we would feel more . . . secure . . . if we were to continue this journey with you.”

  Bandicut nodded, and felt a constriction in his throat as it hit home—he was getting ready to say good-bye to these people. “I am truly sorry. I would have liked to spend more time with you, also. Will Sheeawn—I mean—” he turned to speak directly to the younger Uduon “—Sheeawn, will you return with Akura, or stay here?”

  Sheeawn bowed his own head slightly. “I will go with Watcher Akura. But I will return, later, if permitted.”

  “I tried to persuade him to stay,” Quin said. “But—” She flicked her fingers in the air.

  “I think just now I am needed more by the Watchers,” Sheeawn said—a little shyly, Bandicut thought.

  Ruall floated silently back toward them. “That is settled, then,” she said, with a trace of her old officiousness. “We will set up a meeting with Commander Torno and his staff as soon as you are ready. Do you wish to rest first? Ocellet Quin and Watcher Akura, what are your needs from us before we leave?”

  For a moment, there was no answer. There was so much, no doubt, that both would have liked to say. So much happening, so little time to take stock. It was Li-Jared who spoke. “There is something I need—or want.” He looked quickly at Quin, at Bandicut, and at Ruall. “Everyone? Look—” bong “—this isn’t easy, but I have to say it.”

  “Say what, Li-Jared?”

  “I want to stay here. On Karellia. With my people.”

  Bandicut stared at him, stunned. “What?” he said, feeling stupid. “What do you mean? Why would you—?”

  Li-Jared spread his arms wide. “Well—” bwang “—why do you think? It’s my home.”

  “Of course it is, I’m sorry. But I thought—” What—that you would want to leave your home all over again?

  “Bandie, I—no. I mean, thank you. You and Ik and Antares—you’re my friends and I love you. But Bandie—I belong here, with my people.” Li-Jared’s eyes had narrowed to thin, vertical slits crossed in the middle by small, dark bands of blue. “I know this isn’t what we planned, but think about it. This is my homeworld. I may never get another chance. To return, to get to know it again, in the now. To get to know Quin, to learn what happened to my family, and my friends here.” He shut his eyes for a second, and when they reopened, they were wider, with the usual bright blue band across the center. He rubbed his fingertips on his chest. He added, softly, “I could live a normal life again, Bandie John.”

  “Well, I—” Bandicut started, but he stopped, not knowing how to reply. Of course he wants to go back home. And why didn’t you see it coming? But damn!

  “I know what you’re thinking. What about Ik, and you, and Antares? And the robots?”

  “Yes—”

  “Well, I . . . just hope you’ll all understand.” Li-Jared gazed at him fiercely. “You’ll explain for me, won’t you? Won’t you, Bandie John?”

  “I—”

  “Will you do that for me? Tell them all I think the world of them, and explain why I didn’t come back?”

  Bandicut stared at him, thinking, Our group . . .

  Li-Jared must have read his mind. “Our group is coming apart, Bandie. Ik breaking away like that—and your losing Charli. I hope you can find Antares again, and your Julie—I do. But for me, it’s time to leave. Tell me you wouldn’t go back to Earth, if you could!”

  Bandicut could only think, My family is all in space now. At Shipworld. Or in the starstream. Finally he choked, “Maybe you could take some time for a long visit here, and then return with the fleet, when they come back to Shipworld. Hell, maybe they’ll set up regular commerce between Karellia and Shipworld.” Right—just like they did with Earth? Not impossible, but . . .

  “I am sorry, Band . . . Bandie John Bandicut,” Li-Jared said, and his voice had gone a little thick. “I truly am. I will miss you, and it will grieve me not to see Ik again, or Antares. Or your norgs. Moon and stars, I’ll probably even miss this idiot Ruall.”

  “Still, it—” Bandicut began, and extended his hands, and then dropped them. It sounds so final, is what he had been about to say.

  Quin made a clicking sound. “We would be glad to have Li-Jared stay with us,” she murmured. Her gaze lingered on Li-Jared for a moment, and Bandicut wondered if that was a personal or professional desire.

  Ruall began to make a low, ominous, ringing sound. “No, no, I am sorry, but this will not be possible.”

  “What do you mean?” Bandicut asked, as Li-Jared stiffened. “Why not?”

  “It is simply impossible, per the mission requirements.” Ruall spun once, then twice.

  Li-Jared stood rooted, a flicker of fire in his eyes. “What do your mission rules have to do with my personal life?”

  Ruall’s voice seemed to break a little. “They are not my rules. They are the rules for all of us.”

  The Li-Jared who had shrunk at the news of Bria now seemed to grow taller again. “And you are the arbiter of the rules?”

  Ruall’s shiny disk spun. Stopped. Spun. Stopped. “Apparently so.”

  “Well—” bong “—who appointed you ruler over my life?”

  Ruall spun, and spun again. “We all agreed to the mission when we left Shipworld. And now, we all must return.”

  “Why all of us?”

  Ruall rang a brighter tone—ding!—as though she’d at last been asked a question she knew how to answer. “Because we all need to report what we’ve seen and heard and felt.”

  “About what?”

  “About everything. Everything you have experienced and learned.”

  “That is stupid.” Bong. “John can report on everything. Can’t you, John?”

  “W
ell, yeah, sure.”

  A low murmur, like steel drums, wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh, came from Ruall’s lower body. “Please understand, I am not making this decision myself! Do you think the controllers have not thought of these possibilities?”

  “Apparently—” bong “—not.” Anger was growing visibly on Li-Jared’s face as the muscles tightened around his eyes.

  “Li-Jared, I ask you please to step back and look at the larger picture.” Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh.

  “Okay, I’m stepping back,” Li-Jared said, and took an actual step backward.

  Ruall appeared not to notice the sarcasm in his movement. “Well, then. Remember the Mindaru. You know this well: They may be the greatest danger Shipworld, and probably the galaxy, have ever faced. Shipworld may be the only center of defense against them, the only place where knowledge of the threat is gathered. Any bit of information from any of us may prove crucial. The ruling councils need you as much as they need John Bandicut.”

  “Moon and stars,” Li-Jared muttered. “I’ll provide you anything I know. I’m not saying I’m not on your side! But I’d think you’d want me here—establishing a relationship with the people, and with the leadership of Karellia! And Uduon! Don’t you want someone who knows Karellia, who can help make sure there’s no backsliding with this temporal shield, help solidify the peace? Isn’t that important in keeping the Mindaru away?”

  Ruall’s sound subsided to a soft hummmmm. Her polished face betrayed no emotion, but Bandicut imagined he saw pain in that metallic glow. “These are not bad ideas, Li-Jared, these things you suggest. Not bad at all. But the orders are explicit. All surviving members of the mission must return as soon as possible, to fully report any and all information.”

  “That’s not the real reason, and I think you know it,” Li-Jared said in a low voice. He began bouncing up and down lightly on the balls of his feet now.

  Ruall’s hum went to a buzz of distress. “Really, I have told you what I know. I am not hiding anything from you.”