GODS OF TIME

by DG SIDNA

  "So what happened?" I ask.

  "Lots of things, I suppose. The most obvious being that humanity lost the bulk of her fleets. And, believe it or not, we can't just snap our fingers to make more ships, even in the 31st Century. Reginald drives on starships require years to spin up. On the big ships you've seen, it takes almost a decade. So ships were at a premium for a long time after the war, and we needed them to rebuild our own systems. The refugees out here became a lower and lower priority. It was easy to rationalize, given we were still attempting to deal with the hundreds of millions of refugees we'd already absorbed on our worlds."

  She sighs before going on. "So I guess it's easy to forget about people when they're tucked away on some forgotten rock like this. And we kept expecting the Core Worlds to rise to the occasion and to do their part and help us out. Fat chance of that. Eventually the refugees here on the Valeyard got tired living down below in those cramped mining tunnels. They got ingenious."

  She points up. "They retrofitted the old mining microbots to build this dome. Took only six months. They were able to move to the surface after that. When rescue still didn't come, they built this city. Necessity breeds invention, as they say. Now an entire generation has grown up here. They've never known any other way of life."

  Rhoda asks a question that I've been wondering as well. "Old maid, how did the war end?"

  What she's really asking is what happened to her people.

  Careena looks almost saddened to give the answer. "All I can tell you is that the first war was over territorial disputes and embargoes, and I can't say either side was blameless. But that second war came centuries later, when we thought we were at peace. You started it without provocation, without a word of what you wanted; you never responded to a single message we sent you. You just came for world after world. We defended ourselves as best we could, but after a few years it was clear you had us over a barrel. Then one day your people just... left."

  "Left?"

  "Aye. Your people abandoned every world they had taken, including all those systems they'd captured from the first war four centuries earlier. It was a mystery to us. Your people had removed all evidence of human habitation from the planets they conquered, leaving behind only unspoiled forests and wild animals, but never so much as a single road or building. We never trusted what you may have done to those worlds, which is why the refugees were never allowed to resettle them."

  "And Kheltaris?" Rhoda asks of her homeworld.

  "That was the strangest part of it all," Careena says. "Your entire race went back there. All your ships, all your people, all your own colonists. Something had happened on Kheltaris. Something tragic. Something we still don't understand. Maybe we never will. All we know is from what we've seen on long range telescopes. Your homeworld turned itself into a silver orb."

  Rhoda is unflappable, but even she can't help but be affected by this news. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying your world is gone, luv. I'm sorry. Something consumed your entire civilization. Our scientists believe it was a type of self-replicating nanite. We know your people relied heavily on them, but these must have gotten out of control. And maybe since your people are connected, something hacked your minds like a computer virus, called you all back home. Some have theorized it was a resource gathering algorithm gone mad, yet one so sophisticated that your people were unable to defend against. I don't know. All I can tell you is that Kheltaris is just an ocean of silver now, smooth as a sheet of steel. We've come to call it the Great Pearl."

  "It cannot be," Rhoda whispers.

  Careena does her best to explain. "Our best guess is that the entire planetary surface, every molecule, organic or otherwise, has been broken down and rebuilt into copies of those nanites. How deep they go, or what their purpose is, if they even have one, we really don't know. The planet is inert, as far as we can tell. But the truth is, your solar system, along with all the systems your people have ever touched, are quarantined. Because if it was some sort of malfunction that destroyed you, some sort of self-replicating mechanical virus, then it's possible that if even a single nanite escaped, it could start a chain reaction on our worlds, and we'd suffer the same fate you. And given how far advanced your people were, if you couldn't stop what was happening, what chance would we have?"

  I see the shock and disbelief in Rhoda's eyes. Perhaps she had hoped that her sister would still be alive, even after five hundred years. That sort of technology, to prolong life, had to have already been well under way on her planet. But now there was nothing, not even the pride of a civilization that had gone on to achieve great things.

  Worse, it means Rhoda is the last of her kind.

  I put a hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry, Rhoda."

  She wants to say something, but she holds off. I can tell she's hurting inside. Stoically, she looks up to Careena. "It changes nothing of our mission. If this Patmos can destroy history, then he can still destroy my loved ones, even if they're no longer alive today. I won't allow him to rob me even of their memories." She looks around at the dirty, noisy, chaotic city we've all found ourselves before adding, "Besides, it would appear as if your own people can use all the help they can get."

  Careena shrugs at the comment. "This place will grow on you. But alright, we shouldn't dillydally here in the middle of a busy road. So, first things first."

  "Find shelter," I suggest. And it's true, I'm exhausted.

  "And weapons," Rhoda adds. Not a terrible option either.

  Careena scoffs. "No, you idiots. What's wrong with you two? Drinks, dammit! Drinks!"

  I want to complain, but given the heavy news Rhoda has just received, perhaps it's not such a bad idea. We follow Careena into a massive tower of questionable construction standards. The foyer is dirty, the security guard is asleep, and there's a constant stream of strangely dressed people coming and going from the many tiny elevators lining the back wall. We all squeeze into one, along with a few other visitors.

  There's one hundred and eight floors to choose from. Careena presses the button for seventy-nine, though as far as I can tell, she pressed it entirely at random.

  As people get on and off various floors on our way up, I'm offered a small window into life inside this extraordinary tower. Like a vertical city, each floor is its own neighborhood, the tightly packed halls filled with low-priced hostels, barbers, residential apartments, tiny gyms, sex clubs, dentistry clinics, second-rate law firms, spiritual temples, luxury hotels, corner bodegas, massage parlors, off-world visa agencies, export and import companies, fly-by-night entrepreneurial headquarters of every stripe, and on the fifty-fourth floor, even a cafe where patrons pay to dine with kittens. The proprietors of that one were a Thanish couple.

  Our floor opens not into a hallway like the others, but directly into a lounge. It's windowless and smaller than the other floors, which makes me think we're on a level dedicated mainly to building infrastructure. The occasional clanging and whirling from beyond the walls confirms this theory.

  The vibe in the lounge is dreamlike, with soft electronic music and even softer neon lights hanging over the tables and sofas. This is the type of place I imagine people go after leaving the clubs, when the body demands sleep but the mind refuses to comply. A place hidden between the layers of time.

  Careena orders us three whiskeys from the counter and we take a booth in the corner. When the drinks arrive, she takes a hard long look at her glass. When she speaks, it's not to us. "Oh, dear friend, how long has it been?"

  I really don't know what to do with this woman. "Careena, it's been, like, three days. Tops."

  "Three days! Crikey, even worse than I thought!"

  She downs the drink and orders another.

  I turn to Rhoda. "How are the drinks on Kheltaris?"

  "We have no drinks like this," she says matter-of-factly. "There would be no point."

  Careena chimes in. "The point is to have fun, girl."

  "No. You don't understand," Rhoda responds. "My body
will treat this like poison. It will be processed only as a fuel source."

  I'm amazed. "So you can't, like, get drunk?"

  "No."

  Careena has her own thoughts on the matter. "Good lord, no wonder your people went off their trolleys."

  "Careena!"

  "Bah."

  Rhoda slides her whiskey to me, but she turns her attention to Careena. "What made you this way, old maid? You're a soldier deep down, I can sense that. But it was not the war that broke you. It was something else."

  Careena holds both hands on her glass of amber tightly. She doesn't answer the question, not directly at least. "It's irony, ain't it, that just as the world is about to come to an end, I'm brought back here. Back where it all started. The wheel has come full circle."

  I'm confused. "How do you mean?"

  "I mean this is where I met her, freckles. My Samus."

  The sadness in her eyes is likely as close to a tear as she'll ever allow herself to give. I try to put it all together. "Samus was the friend that you lost, the one you were accused of trying to save. You told me it was a setup."

  "It wasn't a bloody setup, you idiot. I was just incompetent. Not only did I fail to save her, but I got caught in the process. I'd have tried again, I'd have tried a thousand times over, but I was kneecapped by Soolin. She revoked most of my privileges. I was to turn myself in after completing the assignment I was on. Somehow I managed to draw that mission out for years. And during that time I guess I got a bit, shall we say, friendly with the bottle. Now I'm nothing. A washed-up, irritable has-been too afraid to face the consequences of her own actions."

  I tell her truthfully. "You're not that to us, Careena."

  "Who was she?" Rhoda asks. "This Samus?"

  "Someone special," the old woman says. "To me at least. She begged me to leave the ministry, to put all this behind me, so we could start something. A bloody family. Can you imagine that? Me? Around babies, dirty diapers, and all that schnitzel. But I'd give anything for the chance now. I was a different person back then. Sometimes, I think it may have even worked..."

  "I don't know what to say, Careena."

  "You don't need to say anything. What's done is done." She finishes her drink. "Well, now. Aren't we a sad trio of ladies? Here. I've booked us private rooms on eighty-six." She slides us each key cards she must have gotten from the bartender. "We meet back here in seven hours. Then we find the Red Man and beat the bloody answers out of him."

  "You told Story we were just going to scope this place out."

  She stands to leave. "I say a lot of things, kiddo. Now I'm going to get some sleep."

  Rhoda and I are left alone at the booth.

  "Can you tell me what we face?" the Kheltic girl asks.

  I lean back in my chair. "I don't exactly know myself. The Red Man stole some minerals used to go back in time, but they're not for him. They're for a cult or something, led by a man named Patmos. That's who we're really after. Careena believes if we find the Red Man, he'll lead us to Patmos. From what she told me, she can detect these minerals with her ring, but only if we're close enough. So I don't know what she plans. Hiking up and down every street in this godawful place doesn't seem too appealing. Not to mention we're short on time. These minerals need to be refined before they can be used, but I think that won't take but another day, maybe two. I really don't know."

  Rhoda is very perceptive. "Something else is bothering you."

  "Yeah, I guess Careena's story got me thinking. Your story got me thinking. Fuck. I've tried so hard to push my past life out of my mind. I started this whole adventure puking my guts out in a toilet, if you can believe that. But now I'm thinking about my parents. I think the reality of all this is finally sinking in. I can't go back to them. And the worst part is, I just vanished. Into thin air. What must they be thinking? That I was killed? Kidnapped? Raped? They're probably putting up posters right now, crying themselves to bed at night. That's what I see when I close my eyes. I see them crying. And it's all my fault."

  My voice cracks as I speak.

  "Look at me, I'm in tears."

  Rhoda reaches over and comforts me. "We should do something fun. To get our minds off this."

  Coming from a girl who is serious as a heart attack, this surprises me a little.

  She asks me, "What do you Earth girls do for fun?"

  I look around the lounge. There's only a handful of patrons, most with half-empty bottles. There's the bartender, who I realize is a malfunctioning robot on a dolly. And there's a small stage.

  I smile while wiping away a tear.

  I turn back to my new friend.

  "We call it karaoke. And you're going to love it!"

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The following morning brings the same din of neon lights piercing perpetual darkness as the day before. My room has a window offering a remarkable view of this terrifying mega-city, a metropolis hiding under a dome on a dead rock. I'm seduced by the colors, by the lights, by the sounds emanating from below. The city pulsates. It breathes.

  Eventually I force myself to turn away; I brush my teeth, dress, and head down to yesterday's lounge to meet the others.

  Rhoda is already there at a table, having a breakfast of toast and vegan eggs. The barbaric necessity of animal consumption has been vanquished in the 31st Century, not that there would be many animals on the Valeyard available to consume regardless.

  It looks like the girl has been here a while, despite our late night together and the early hour. I have to ask, "You don't sleep?"

  "Some nights maybe an hour," she says matter-of-factly.

  "Must be nice."

  My own breakfast arrives. The quality is questionable. It looked so much better from a distance. "So you've been up this whole time?" I ask.

  "Yes."

  "Doing what?"

  "Thinking."

  "About?"

  "About my people."

  I can't imagine how hard that must be on her. I wish I knew what to say. But then she tells me something rather surprising. "I heard them, Isabel."

  "Heard them? How do you mean?"

  "Yesterday, I heard them," she explains. "I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid how the old maid might react. And I wasn't even sure if what I heard was real, or just some wishful thinking on my part. But when I meditate, I can hear them. The old maid believes that this Great Pearl they created destroyed them. But that's not what happened. The pearl is them."

  "They told you this?" I ask.

  "In a way. It's not words that I hear. It's a sort of song, but not one of music or language. To be honest, they've transcended my comprehension. But I can hear my sister's voice among the chorus. At least, I like to believe that I do."

  "Are we still a danger?"

  "No, I don't believe so. Ironically, their song isn't meant for me. It's meant for you, for humanity. It's an apology for what they did, for their arrogance. They know you can't hear them, not yet. But one day you will. And maybe on that day the human race can be reunited. Their wisdom is great. They hope to share with you all that they've learned."

  I'm wide-eyed at the revelation. "Can they do anything to help us now? Because, we may not be around much longer if they don't."

  The girl shakes her head. "No. I can't speak to them, only listen. And they've lost all sense of ego. Their concerns are no longer as earthly as ours. It's like they're in a state of meditation now, exploring the depths of consciousness. I think they may have come to know all there is to know about the physical universe. All that's left, the final frontier to reality, is understanding the nature of experience itself."

  I can't say I know what that means, but I can guess the implications. "So you're saying that we're on our own?"

  "It would be appear so," she tells me. "But we will find the Red Man. Don't worry. We are hunters at heart, you and I."

  Despite being the same age, sometimes I feel so much younger than this enigmatic girl. And comments like that really don't help. "Maybe you, Rhoda,"
I say. "But I spent an hour this morning drying my hair and plucking my eyebrows. Look, I even painted my nails. Would a hunter do that?"

  She grins. "A pretty one might."

  Careena appears next to us. "So what are you tarts up to?"

  "Waiting for you, old maid."

  It's me who says this, because it's funny.

  "Bah," comes the response. I notice she doesn't order a whiskey with breakfast. So either she's suddenly turned a new leaf, or today is going to be a truly dangerous one. I'm not sure which of those two options I prefer.

  "Look, you two," she goes on. "This is the plan. Hecate can detect the RGMs, but only if we're close enough, a hundred meters or so. In a city this big, that's going to be a problem. So we're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. We ask around, hunt for clues. Try to narrow down the possibilities."

  "So we're using our detective hats." I'm hoping this means no gunfights.

  "Exactly. And I think I know a good place to start. It's unlikely the Red Man can refine all that product on his own, at least not in any reasonable amount of time. there are a few black market outfits in the city he could partner with. He's going to try to avoid drawing attention to himself, but word is definitely going to get around. So we'll start with a contact I know. He's got his fingers in a bit of everything, and he owes me a favor."

  With our plans decided and our breakfast finished, Careena takes us back into the crowded streets of the Valeyard. We board a double-decker tram heading roughly east.

  The tram is silent as a ghost, levitating an inch above the ground; as such it has to make constant and annoying warning dings as it crisscrosses busy streets and crowded neighborhoods. The sea of people part for us, only to reform in our wake.

  Our ride is roughly forty minutes. When we alight, I have to immediately put my hand over my nose. "Oy. It smells like rotten cabbage here."