his face?
8
Ties That Bind
Even after Bruin, Ring, and Kipper arrived, Griffin remained immersed in his exploration of Leto’s complex. Indeed, had Ring not insisted on accompanying Griffin and Terrell indoors, Griffin would have easily forgotten that anything had changed about their situation. The complex obsessed him to the point that Terrell had to remind him periodically that his goal was to seek and—if at all possible—activate a communications array so that he could contact his orbiting ship.
“This is all very interesting,” Terrell said one morning when Griffin called him over to show him some schematic diagrams he’d found regarding fuel cells, “but wouldn’t your analysis be much easier if you had some of those devices you left on your ship—the ones that let you record information and make pictures? I’d like to see the portable library you mentioned. With it, we could compare what we’re finding here with the artifacts you’ve already studied.”
Griffin nodded. “That would be great. However, I’m uncomfortable with bringing any modern technology down here until we’re certain that the nanobots that, in all likelihood, crashed my shuttle have been completely disabled. What if I brought the Howard Carter down and she crashed?”
Terrell countered immediately. “Didn’t you say something about the Howard Carter being able to send down drones that could carry small equipment? A drone would provide a very good test as to whether conditions have changed.”
When Griffin did not reply, Terrell persisted.
“I thought you intended to contact your ship and arrange for a message to be sent back to your family. You said a message would take a long time to reach them. Wouldn’t it be better to send it sooner, rather than later? You said that you could arrange to send the message drone remotely, so the ship would not be at risk of contamination.”
Fighting down an urge to tell Terrell to stop nagging him, Griffin seized on a point he had been avoiding, but that was at least better than admitting he was indeed behaving irrationally—an admission that would be particularly irksome at this moment since, in many ways, he had never felt more rational in all his life.
“Terrell, I’m not certain that I want to contact my family—not now, not since we found this complex. I’ve told you about them, haven’t I?”
“A little,” Terrell said, then demonstrated his excellent memory. “You are the youngest of ten children. You have six brothers and three sisters. Your father was involved in the military—although you have never spoken of what, exactly, that means. Your brothers and two of your sisters have, at least to some extent, followed in your father’s path. Your mother, in addition to raising all those children, was involved in some form of natural science. I’m not certain of the details, but you mention her most often when…”
Griffin held up a hand in mild protest. “You are a credit to your teachers, Terrell the Factotum, to remember so much and to draw such accurate conclusions from so little.”
“I am glad the seegnur is pleased,” Terrell said, the ritual response coming automatically. Then he colored. “And you, too, of course … Now, do you wish me to tell you what I deduce is making you hesitate or to spare me the trouble and talk openly for once?”
“It’s the military aspect,” Griffin admitted. “The Kyley Domain is largely peaceful. Indeed, since its initial formation, the domain has grown, because neighboring systems have requested membership—and the prosperity and security that come with it. These days, those systems which would join voluntarily have done so. Now some say that it is our duty to go forth and offer membership to systems who have not requested it.”
Terrell smiled knowingly. Although the people of Artemis were, on the whole, traditionalists, that didn’t mean there had been no ambitious rulers in the days since the seegnur had departed. His nod encouraged Griffin to continue.
“Not everyone, not even a majority, agrees with this course of action. Even in those systems that joined the Kyley Domain voluntarily, there were clashes with those who resisted. Some of the fights were horribly destructive, because any system worth having in the domain is of a similar technological level to our own. My father earned his awards in one such conflict. Several of my brothers served in a conflict when a group of affiliated systems decided that they had been wrong to join Kyley and wished to separate and form their own dominion. If Kyley were to annex groups who did not wish to join us, there would be even more battles. Dread of this has been the greatest argument against the annexation faction.”
“And the annexation faction,” Terrell said, “is the one to which some of your family belongs, yes?”
“It is the faction,” Griffin said, forcing a rueful grin, “my family heads. With age, my father has taken his taste for battle into politics. He has proven quite good at it, although I believe he regrets he cannot solve some differences of opinion with a single well-aimed shot.”
“So your brothers,” Terrell continued, “and your more military-minded sisters as well, would welcome annexation becoming official policy.”
“Precisely.” Griffin waved one arm in a broad gesture that encompassed Leto’s complex. “Here we have what may be the solution to the greatest argument against annexation. Even those pacification campaigns I mentioned—although not all-out wars of conquest—were expensive, both in equipment and in lives. My father’s opponents have used this against him, saying that if mere pacification costs so dearly, how much more expensive would conquest be? I’ll spare you my father’s counterarguments. However, if the technological advances we see here were in his hands, then he would have a cogent argument for conquest.”
Terrell nodded. “Because, although the expense would still be high, the chance of victory—and the opportunity to recoup the expenses—would be much more likely.”
“Again, correct,” Griffin agreed. “That’s why I’d like to know more about what we have here before I contact anyone.”
“Do you support your father’s dreams of annexation?”
Griffin didn’t need to be a genius to know that, although Terrell tried to keep his expression neutral, the factotum did not think annexation was a good policy. He framed his answer accordingly.
“Not precisely. Growing too large was what doomed the Old Empire. Their technology—especially in communications and travel—was as far above that of the Kyley Domain as that of Kyley is above that of the average householder in Shepherd’s Call. Currently, the Kyley Domain is mostly peaceful. Peace is good for scholarship and that is what I love. No. I can’t say I would particularly favor annexation.”
“I wonder what motivated the seegnur,” Terrell said. “As you said, they were far above any technology either of us has ever seen. Nonetheless, they made this place so they could research further advances. What could they have possibly wanted?”
Griffin brightened. “Actually, I’m beginning to figure out what their primary areas of research were.”
“Couldn’t Leto just tell you what they were doing?”
Uninvited, the disembodied voice replied, “Authorization level is not precisely clear. Until it is so, I shall withhold both restricting and abetting.”
“That,” Griffin said, shrugging, “about says it. I think if I figure out enough on my own, Leto will change her mind.”
Terrell nodded. “So, what do you think were the primary areas of research? You’ve had me sketching different models of battle armor. I can’t say that’s given me any great insights.”
“Ah, but your work,” Griffin said, slapping his friend on the back, “has given me a number of insights. Let me share them.”
He led the way to the well-lit table that had more or less become his office. Ring was nearby, sitting upright on the floor, apparently drowsing. Griffin did not so much ignore the other man as let him continue to rest. The journey from Lynn’s isolated community to Maiden’s Tear must have been exhausting for Ring. He might need as many days to recover.
“Pull over a chair. Let me grab my notes. Right. Now, w
here should I start?”
Terrell shrugged. “We of Artemis know little of the seegnur, your Old Imperials—beyond what was in the lore. You say they surpassed your own people in both the technologies of communication and travel. Maybe you can explain the differences between you. If you don’t, I’m not going to know why you’re so excited.”
“Fair enough.” Griffin paused, considering how best to explain star flight to someone from a culture that considered a multi-masted sailing ship the epitome of long-distance travel. “Think of space as an enormous sea in which the star systems are scattered like chains of islands swirling around a sun. The distances are so vast that travel between close systems—even between planets in the same system—takes not minutes or hours, but days, weeks, years, even lifetimes.”
Terrell accepted this so quietly that Griffin wondered if he was being humored. Then he remembered that Terrell belonged to a culture where journeys never took minutes or hours, but always took days, weeks, months, or longer. This explanation might be easier than he had imagined.
“I’m going to spare you the technical details—I’ll be honest, I don’t understand them myself—but eventually someone postulated that space could be folded.” Griffin took out a handkerchief—thankfully clean—and spread it on the table. “Let’s say System A is on this hem and System B is on this hem. The distance between would take years to cross, even at the fastest speeds. The orikami drive lets a ship equipped with it fold the space and so shorten the journey. He pinched the handkerchief in the middle, folding it so that the two edges remained visible, but the middle was compressed. “Now I’ve folded the space so that only half the distance needs to be crossed. We can fold it half again, then…” He made a final fold. “Half again.”
“Amazing!”
Gratified, Griffin continued, “The orikami drive can’t be used within a star system—the bodies that make up those ‘island chains’ make folding space impossible. However, there are various types of secondary engines that enable a ship to travel between planets. This combination of orikami drive and secondary engines is what is used by the Kyley Domain and is about the best we can do.”
“What did the seegnur use?”
“We don’t know for certain,” Griffin said. “For more routine matters, they used something not unlike the orikami drive. However, there is evidence that they had found the means to make even bigger folds in space, that they could even fold space within star systems, which gave them a tremendous advantage.”
Terrell nodded. “Like that which someone with a small, fleet sailing vessel would have if their rivals were limited to rowboats.”
“Precisely!” Griffin’s eyes shone with excitement. “That technology vanished with the Old Empire. The theory is that it depended as much on a human component as on any machinery. We don’t know whether these pilots were all killed, were ordered to suicide, or merely died out without passing on their skills to a new generation. I think it was probably a combination of several of these elements. I also suspect that after the fall of the Old Empire there was such chaos that the resources for building these special ships and training their pilots simply wasn’t available.”
“Makes sense,” Terrell said. “Perhaps when the rulers knew they would fall, they made sure the technology would be lost with them—rather like how the Old One flooded his complex on Mender’s Isle and the Sanctum Sanctorum, rather than let us have them.”
“One thing,” Griffin said sadly, “we seem to have in common with the Old Imperials is the petty streak of human nature.”
“How did the Imperials deal with communication if these systems were so far apart? Did they use fast ships to carry messages?”
“We’re pretty sure that was how routine messages were transferred,” Griffin agreed. “However, there is evidence that, just as they had learned how to have humans augment and refine the ability to fold space, they discovered ways for minds to communicate over vast distances. This meant stationing adepts in each location and surmounting a wide variety of other difficulties but, compared to having to entrust messages to even the fastest ship, this gave the Imperials another great advantage.”
Again, Terrell seemed to have less of a problem accepting this than Griffin would have believed possible. But then he has experience with communicating mind to mind. Perhaps I would have accepted this more easily if I had known then what I do now.
“And yet the Empire fell,” Terrell said softly. “All that power and so little wisdom. And that brings us back to the question of what they were trying to make here.”
Griffin was about to launch into his theories on that point when Leto said, “Kipper has entered the complex. He does not bring your meal, although darkness is gathering without.”
There was a disapproving note to the disembodied voice, but Griffin answered mildly. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”
He heard the soft slap of Kipper’s bare feet against the polished floor of the corridor. A moment later the boy, rosy-faced from exertion, burst through the door into the lab.
“Bruin invites you to join him for dinner. He says to tell you that he’s so tired of only having me and Honeychild for company that he’s considering inviting Sam the Mule.”
“Only you?” Terrell asked. “Where’re Adara and Sand Shadow?”
The boy shrugged. “Don’t know. She’s gone scouting and not come back.”
* * *
The three strangers recovered from their surprise quickly. After a quick consultation, they led the way to what had been the large dining and recreation area during the Old One’s tenancy. The tables and benches had been so bulky that they hadn’t been carried far by the surging water. The new arrivals had retrieved the furnishings and cleaned the area, which they were now using as a camping spot.
Julyan thought this was an odd choice, especially since the island surface was much more pleasant than this dank, subterranean chamber. Then he realized that the newcomers would have no idea that the Haunted Islands were prohibited, nor that any dangerous predators—barring snakes and insects—had been cleared away on the Old One’s orders. Doubtless they had chosen safety and secrecy over ambiance.
On their first meeting, Julyan had been so startled by the three men’s ready hands to their weapons that he had not taken in much about their attire and gear. Now, standing with his back against the wall, he made a careful inspection, as much to be prepared for future conflict as because he was interested.
All three men were dressed in a strange shoulder-to-foot garment, apparently somehow shaped from one piece of material, since Julyan couldn’t see any seams. Even the fasteners were hard to detect, but since the man with the bronze curls—Alexander—had his garment open at the neck, while the other two wore theirs neatly closed, Julyan glimpsed the nearly hidden closures. The footwear was apparently part of the same material, woven more thickly to the height of an ankle boot. Most interesting of all was the color, which shifted with the surrounding environment. Currently, it was a neutral hue, somewhere between grey and brown. In the corridor, it had been the same grey as the walls and floors. Julyan wondered if outside it would shift toward green.
Julyan realized that he should have been startled and shocked, rather than feeling so analytical. But an embarrassment of miracles—from the flameless lights the men carried, to the pumps that worked with none to man them, to the enormous craft resting in the bay—had made him so numb that he was glad that, once introductions were over, he was freed from the need for speech.
The Old One, however, was his usual self. Perhaps his grey eyes were shining a bit more brightly than usual, but Julyan doubted that anyone who didn’t know him well would find him other than cool, collected, and self-contained.
“You address us as ‘seegnur,’” said the tall, blond man. He had introduced himself as Siegfried and, without saying so, presented himself as the leader. “That word is unfamiliar to me.”
“I suspect it was specific to Artemis,” the Old One replied politely. �
�It is what we were taught to call visitors from off-planet, and so applies perfectly to you and your associates.”
“Indeed.” Siegfried looked mildly amused. “So you of Artemis have retained something of your history, even after all this time?”
“We have.”
“And you do not seem in the least surprised to see us.”
“The lore has always held that the seegnur would someday return. If there were those who questioned, I was not among them.”
“We have reason to believe,” said the darker man, Falkner, “that we are not the first—uh—seegnur to come to Artemis in recent times. Do you know of another?”
He spoke as if he expected a negative response. His green eyes widened in surprise as the Old One said matter-of-factly, “Yes. He called himself Griffin Dane. He did not tell many that he was a seegnur, but I was so informed.”
Julyan nearly gasped out loud. He had had no idea that Griffin had been a seegnur, yet, now that he thought about it, this explained much, including the Old One’s interest in him, and the privileges he had granted him, even when he had been a prisoner.
“Is Griffin still alive?” asked Alexander eagerly.
“I believe so. Last I heard, he was, although he is no longer in this immediate area.”
“So Griffin took you into his confidence,” Siegfried said. “Yet it sounds as if he did not confide in everyone. Why did he choose you?”
“He wanted my help.” The Old One spoke with disarming simplicity. He waved a long-fingered hand to indicate the battered tables and benches. “This facility and one linked to it on the mainland were in my trust. Griffin hoped to find in them equipment he might reactivate and then use to contact his orbiting ship.”
The three men exchanged glances in which Julyan read surprise and concern, but no one even drew in a sharp breath. Instead, Siegfried continued as spokesman.
“Why did Griffin need to contact his orbiter? Was his machinery disabled? We have had some minor difficulties—mostly with our more delicate devices—but nothing that should have interfered with something as basic as ground-to-orbit communications.”
Artemis Invaded Page 14
