Eternity's Mind

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “Pleased to meet you,” Kotto said aloud. His head was pounding, and so was his heart. He felt giddy. The potential here seemed infinite, and he wanted to know. All his life he had seen the universe as an intriguing puzzle box filled with glittering ideas, possibilities that if he could connect them this way or that, if he tweaked a calculation just so, then he could turn the crank on an engine of understanding, which would reveal further equations and deeper answers.

  It was scientific magic, pure and simple.

  Kotto had devoted himself to unraveling those secrets. His attention bounced from one idea to another, a pure Brownian motion of understanding. Most importantly, he had applied those ideas for years, the concepts that he sifted out of the debris and distractions, and then used his engineering knowledge so he could do something with his discoveries.

  In his remarkable career, he had built an unlikely metal-processing settlement on a superhot planet; he had founded a hydrogen-extraction facility on a distant ice moon; he had invented ways to crack open hydrogue warglobes when other weapons had no effect. The great Kotto Okiah had discarded or lost interest in more ideas than most geniuses ever thought of in the first place.

  In the last two decades, Kotto had become increasingly focused, but also increasingly distracted. Yes, he had accomplished less and less in his “waning years,” which made him try harder to prove that he wasn’t losing his talent.

  Shareen and Howard had embarrassed him by solving impossible conundrums that had long since defeated him. Those two young workers reminded him of the wonder of understanding and the magic thrill of finding an unexpected solution. But Shareen and Howard were also reminders that he could no longer call himself the boy genius. For a time, Kotto had been depressed about it, worried that there was nothing left for him to discover, that there were no further grand conclusions he could make.

  But now he had a remarkable opportunity. He could sense it, and he pushed back, reaching out to grasp it for himself. He looked out into infinity. “Hello?” he said again. “Eternity’s Mind?”

  The survey craft approached a nexus of the glowing smudges, residue from the real universe, as if these things were so powerful they left an echo even in this dimension.

  Finally, the voice answered him. Not in words. Not in concepts, but in a presence that felt tremendous, omnipotent, like the universe itself.

  “I want to understand,” Kotto said. He thought of all his scientific knowledge, his mathematics, his concepts, and wondered what would get through to this vast entity. He yearned to see the answers of the cosmos to every mystery he had ever wondered about.

  The throbbing in his head grew louder, more powerful, and at last he began to see. The vast and powerful entity revealed what it knew—only tantalizing hints at first, tiny tastes that were, nevertheless, a feast for Kotto.

  “It’s an enemy of the Shana Rei,” he said to his two compies. “I understand that clearly. It hates the shadows. It wants to fight them, but it wants more than that.” He patted KR and GU. “It wants to share knowledge with me. Ha! By the Guiding Star, of course—yes, I want to learn.” He raised his hands. “I’ll let you in. I want to know whatever it is that you know.”

  “Kotto, we advise caution,” KR said.

  But Kotto suddenly saw the inner workings of stars, the secret language of nebulas, the communion of atoms, and the mysterious underlying dance of quarks all the way up to the structure of galactic superclusters, and beyond, revealing a vastness to the universe that went far beyond any concept of creation.

  “Yes…” he whispered, filled with euphoria. “Yes!”

  The thoughts and the revelations shone within him as bright as a star. His Guiding Star. The throbbing voice grew louder, and he kept reaching out, grasping for more.

  Eternity’s Mind flooded him with wondrous understanding—miracles that went beyond miracles—and Kotto could see it all. He knew it all. By comparison, even his greatest achievements were only the tiniest fragment of one speck of dust in an entire desert. All of humanity’s accomplishments were not much more than that.

  But Kotto understood it now, and the knowledge kept flooding in until he was swimming in it, trying to stay afloat. He learned all about the Shana Rei, but it was just the first tiny grain of sand.

  Kotto realized that the compies were speaking to him with increasing alarm, but he could no longer pay attention to them. The totality of these revelations was overwhelming, and his brain was drowning, unable to contain so many wonders. But they kept flowing in, and flowing in.

  It was a complete, all-consuming epiphany of wisdom beyond his wildest ability to handle. And very quickly he could not even try.

  CHAPTER

  62

  PRINCE REYNALD

  Though his companions shouted for him to come back, Prince Reyn marched directly up to the barricade of thorns and spearlike branches. The Onthos climbed among the dead trees, staring down at him. Reyn felt threatened and also sick, but he was determined: he needed to do this. The blight within the trees resonated with him.

  The pale aliens claimed to be servants of the verdani, Gardeners, but they had brought the inner sickness here. Intentionally.

  Staring at the Onthos, demanding their attention, Reyn realized that Arita, Osira’h, and his parents feared for him, but he faced his fear. There might be some way he could get through to the aliens. They were sick, as was he.

  The creatures approached him cautiously, making no dangerous moves. Mystified, they sniffed the air. One dropped down close to him and spoke. “You are Reynald. I am Ohro. I know you. You know me.”

  “The verdani trusted you,” Reyn said, adding a challenge to his tone. “We welcomed you to Theroc, gave you a home—and you betrayed us.”

  “We survived. We had only one spore mother. Our race was dying.”

  “And now the trees are dying.”

  “We must reproduce.”

  The sharp branches rustled as more Gardeners came closer. Not far away, a dead worldtree crashed to the ground—another threatening reminder. The Theron home guard was out there, holding their positions but ready to attack. If the Onthos made any move to harm him, the King and Queen would launch an all-out strike and obliterate the entire fortress of dead trees. Reyn knew it and so, he hoped, did the Onthos.

  He called, “Back on your homeworld, you said the Gardeners were partners with the trees. You told our green priests it was a symbiotic relationship. Was that a lie? You shared images of your civilization, the Onthos and the worldtrees in harmony—was that false?”

  “That was the truth,” Ohro said. “But it all changed when the Shana Rei came.”

  “The Shana Rei came for us too,” Reyn said. “We all need to survive. The shadows intend to kill everyone—Onthos, humans, Ildirans, even the verdani. And you are helping them do it.”

  “We must survive,” Ohro repeated, unwilling to consider any variation on the concept.

  Reyn reached out with a shaking hand to grasp the brittle wood of a dead branch. He was not a green priest and had never been able to sense telink, but he had always felt the life force carried by the verdani. This wood, though, was completely drained and dead.

  “We will all fight you,” Reyn said. “The Theron guard could firebomb these tainted sections of the forest. They could wipe you out easily enough—you must know it.”

  “The verdani will defend us. The verdani still believe in us.”

  “But you’re killing them!” Reyn shouted with such force that he felt dizzy. He slid to his knees among the debris on the forest floor.

  The Gardeners were disturbed by his presence. Ohro sniffed, then drew in a much longer inhalation. “You also carry a taint. You are ill.”

  “Yes, I am. It is a sickness from Theroc. But I want to be cured, while you want to spread your blight. You’re infecting the trees—on purpose.” Outside the barricade, the forty green priests that had come along on the mission gathered closer. Collin and Zaquel stood at the front, where Reyn could see
them. “You helped destroy Kennebar and his green priests,” he said. “You betrayed them.”

  “Not us,” said Ohro. “The shadows.”

  “But you brought the shadows. They were inside you.”

  The Gardeners chittered and hissed.

  “And to stop the spread of the shadows, we may have no other choice but to kill you.” Reyn lowered his voice. “Maybe once your blight is gone, my sickness will also be cured.”

  In anger, or in panic, the Onthos rushed about through their thicket, trying to bolster their defenses. More great trees crashed down, but they were aimed carefully enough that they missed the landed Theron ships. The threat was clear, nevertheless.

  Osira’h yelled, “Reynald, get out of there!”

  He pulled himself to his feet again and looked at the small-statured aliens. If they swarmed him, they could easily kill him—as they had killed Sarein. He was too weak to run; in fact, he could barely walk as he staggered back out of the thicket to his companions.

  “We are still the Gardeners,” Ohro cried. “We still serve them.”

  Another gigantic tree crashed down, shivering into splinters as it struck the ground. Reyn sank into the waiting arms of his sister and Osira’h. He felt impossibly weary. “I had to try.”

  Arita held him and said, “I know, but their taint has gone too deep.”

  Osira’h sounded angry. “We have experienced similar shadows in the thism. A darkness possesses my people and makes them do things that cannot be forgiven. These Gardeners cannot be forgiven.”

  King Peter shouted for the Theron guard to prepare for a full assault.

  “Then they must be purged,” said Queen Estarra, “to save Theroc.”

  CHAPTER

  63

  GENERAL NALANI KEAH

  General Keah never thought she’d be rooting for the damned faeros, but she wasn’t going to look a gift elemental in the mouth. The fifty fireballs that streaked toward the shadow cloud were allies she had never expected.

  The faeros scattered the robot battle formations like coyotes running through a flock of chickens and left half a million robot attackers swirling about in disarray as the faeros shot toward their real target—the Shana Rei.

  Cheers and astonished gasps filled the CDF comm frequencies, but Keah’s thoughts were somber after the farewell Deputy Cain had just transmitted. It seemed strange to mourn one particular person out of the billions being massacred, and right now, she was in the middle of a firefight, utterly outnumbered and losing.

  She ordered her ships to take advantage of the turmoil the faeros had caused. If nothing else, they would inflict a little more damage on the robot ships.

  The faeros circled the swirling shadow cloud that engulfed Earth. The fireballs dipped into the black nebula, tore through it, and streaked back out before swooping in again, ripping huge wounds in the darkness each time. Several faeros dimmed inside the smothering shadow, their elemental fires waning in the blackness, and yet the determined fireballs kept attacking.

  Dr. Krieger’s fusillade of sun bombs had harmed the Shana Rei hex ships, but the giant geometrical vessels were still heart-stoppingly powerful at the core of the black nebula. The obsidian cylinders collapsed and reconfigured themselves with the matter they had available so that no damage was visible on their opaque shining sides.

  Admiral Haroun transmitted, “General Keah, how can we assist the faeros? Should we join them in attacking the shadow cloud?”

  Each of the roaring fireballs was larger than five Juggernauts, and she just shook her head. “That’s beyond our capabilities, Admiral. We’re out of sun bombs and our other weapons won’t hurt the shadows. But we can still make a dent in the robots. We’ve got to do what we can for Earth.”

  If there was anything left.

  She stubbornly—foolishly—refused to admit there was nothing they could save, but she wasn’t blind or stupid. Hundreds of thousands of robot battleships regrouped and continued to saturate Earth’s atmosphere with devastator bombs. No additional evacuating ships managed to escape, and the remnants of her CDF battle group were outnumbered thousands to one.

  The faeros punched into the shadow cloud again, and the nebula recoiled as if burned, its pseudopods clenching. The emboldened faeros burned through the cloud again like projectiles, slamming into the hex cylinders.

  Now the Shana Rei seemed to draw on some other source of dark energy. The shadow cloud became blacker, thicker. It swelled to twice its former size.

  As Keah watched with dread, the black hex cylinders extended, growing like crystals made of night. When two more faeros plunged into the shadow cloud, they were snuffed out like stray embers. The fireballs flickered, faded, and disappeared in the darkness.

  In groups of three, the faeros continued to harry the shadow cloud, but even the burning triads could not withstand the blinding entropy. One by one, the elementals were extinguished, sparks blown out in a wind. The swollen cloud no longer showed any sign of the elementals’ attack.

  The last three faeros attempted to spiral away and escape, but the shadow cloud extended a swift pseudopod and engulfed them like black mist. When the last one was extinguished, Keah tried to control her dismay. “Looks like we’re on our own again.”

  Hundreds of thousands of robot battleships tore at the carcass of the Earth, leaving a path of smoldering wreckage. More attackers turned their attention to Keah’s ships.

  Under any other circumstances, the robot casualties would have sent them reeling and assured a CDF victory, but the black robots seemed to have a chilling confidence, no matter how many losses they suffered.

  With nothing to forestall it now, the shadow cloud folded over Earth, smothered the planetary atmosphere, and wrapped around it like a strangling fist.

  “General, we’ve got to do something!” cried one of the Manta captains.

  Keah’s heart ached, but she knew that if they stayed here she would just lose the rest of her force of Mantas and Juggernauts. The Confederation, somewhere, still needed them. She had to get back to the King and Queen.

  She used her most commanding voice, making sure all of the other captains heard. “We can’t afford to lose any more of our fleet for the sake of a dramatic gesture.” There was no way even a massively successful series of strikes could make a dent in those robot forces or the Shana Rei. It would be a pointless, foolhardy move.

  She hated to feel helpless, and her body clenched in rebellion against the thought. “Nobody can say we didn’t give it our best shot, but I’m not going to allow a useless sacrifice so you can feel brave for a few seconds. Our responsibility is to the Confederation. Earth is…”—her voice cracked, and she had to force out the final word—“gone.”

  Like predators feasting on fresh-killed prey, the black robots and the shadow cloud engulfed the planet in falling black rain. Keah didn’t have the words, not even curses to express her thoughts. But she had to get to Theroc as fast as possible to brief the King and Queen. She knew that her green priest’s telink reports could never adequately convey what had happened here.

  Countless black robot ships raced toward them, more than ten thousand enemies against each remaining CDF ship.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Keah said. And the ragtag scraps of the Confederation Defense Forces engaged stardrives and departed from Earth for the last time.

  CHAPTER

  64

  MUREE’N

  The misbreed survivors from Kuivahr were finally back on Ildira, tended by the best medical kith, while Muree’n guarded them against any outside threats. That was what Tamo’l would have wanted her to do. She wore body armor and carried her katana, just like Yazra’h. Watching over the woefully weak and infirm misbreeds, she felt both sad and angry for them.

  Right now Pol’ux lay on a humming medical bed, struggling to contain his pain while technicians drained the boils that covered most of his skin. His arms and face were swollen with subcutaneous fluid. When completely drained, Pol’ux c
ould manage a halfway comfortable life for a day or two before the horrific boils reappeared. He was always hooked up to hydration tubes to replace the moisture that he constantly lost.

  Muree’n felt a tightness in her stomach. These creatures were the unintended consequences of the breeding program. What had the Dobro Designate been thinking when he forced such mismatched kiths to mate? How could such an offspring as Pol’ux possibly have become a savior of the Ildiran race? Had it all been a game to that man?

  Muree’n’s hand clenched around the staff of the ceremonial crystal katana, and she felt her wiry muscles and nimble fingers. She inhaled a breath and savored the air in her lungs, the energy in her body. As a halfbreed experiment herself, she had succeeded. She was counted among the lucky ones.

  Pol’ux, though, would never know the joy of straining his muscles, of proving what his body could do. The misbreeds would never perform acrobatics, never feel the victory of a good solid combat or know the pleasant ache of bruises after a good fight. She looked at Pol’ux with sympathy, although she knew that without the breeding experiments he would never have been born at all. Such a combination of unlikely kiths would never have occurred naturally. Pol’ux owed his very existence—such as it was—to the Dobro experiments, but he could also blame the program for his pain. Right now, oddly, Pol’ux seemed happy and unconcerned, enduring the difficult ministrations without complaint.

  Beside her, Yazra’h was grim, as if thinking the same thoughts. These misbreeds required constant protection, but at least this medical center was a comfortable place. It could not rival the sanctuary domes or the attentions that Tamo’l had heaped upon them, but it was the best Ildira could offer. The ceilings here were high and slanted, made of transmission glass that softened the sunlight to provide a constant warm glow.

  The communal hospice room was filled with lush plants, and misters kept the air moist to the point of being hazy. Fountains splashed and burbled around the treatment beds. Medical kithmen went along the rows, tending the patients, compiling meticulous records. Like military commanders, Shawn Fennis and Chiar’h kept precise watch on all the activity.