La Mar had called ‘Full stun!’ to her across the crowd. ‘STOP!’ she had yelled in return. Stun was not an emergency condition. The effects from full stun were temporary on a healthy person. She did not see the life threat that this pandemonium implied. A squad of Base Security personnel hovered behind the mob.
If this is some stunt to keep these people clear of Security I will have strips off La Mar and the marines both, she thought. Aesca had noted the grey uniforms on two of the bodies.
The wave stopped at her feet.
‘The disposition of the psych,’ stated La Mar loudly. For whose benefit Aesca was not sure until the Specialist was turned upright in front of her.
‘Trahern is critical. I must be with him as he recovers from the stun,’ breathed out Specialist Celene.
She looks critical herself, thought Aesca, automatically searching for signs of trauma. The mild stun that would have hit Celene inside the vest did not provide for the panic and hurt in the small woman’s eyes. Her next words went some way to explain.
‘Spence moved through the stun,’ said Celene. ‘He put himself between.’
‘Straight on the table with him. Neurological. Call Turner,’ she directed. ‘Trahern and the Specialist into E1. Who else do you have?’ A look. ‘Gati, of course. Put him in his old room. All the rest of you OUT!’
Celene caught her sleeve as she was swung past. ‘Medical only, your people will suffice,’ said the tiny woman. ‘Gati’s hand was empty.’
Aesca did not understand all of this. The vests were used as protection against personal attack, producing a three hundred and sixty degree field of full stun out to four metres from the wearer that would stop anything with a nervous system. Unfortunately, the wearer was affected also but with a reduced field. Psychs used them to deal with dangerous patients. As in this case, the psych would recover first and direct the care of the patient. Celene was telling her that this was not a security matter, even though the use of the vest implied a life threatening attack. This was the ‘disposition’ that La Mar had proclaimed. It kept the Greys out of Security’s hands.
Aesca strode through the milling soldiers to the Security team. ‘The Specialist says this is not a matter for you, but give me two of your best just in case. The rest of you hold the doors and make sure this lot gets out of my ward.’
Aesca went to neuro first. A light stun stopped most voluntary muscle control. Full stun took out everything, involuntary control for an instant only, the rest for tens of minutes. Like getting struck by lightning. It was not possible to move under those conditions. Somehow Spence had. She wished someone would make clear to the marines what ‘impossible’ meant. He may have done serious damage to his nervous system.
The team in neuro was good. Although his systems were functioning, Spence had already been hooked up to life support. The life support was there to take over if he dropped out, not such a small possibility given his exposure. The team was in contact with Turner who was on his way. ‘Moved through full stun,’ Aesca said to Niome, the tech in charge of the team. Niome nodded back. It was all Aesca knew that had to be passed on. Nothing more for me to do here. She made her way to E1. The two Base security men followed at a respectful distance. Two of her own security tagged along.
The team in E1 had not fared so well. The Grey was on a bed but the Specialist, still in her vest, stood beside him. ‘You need to be checked,’ ordered Aesca.
‘I need to be with him as he regains consciousness, even before, as his brain function returns.’ The Specialist was almost pleading.
‘Pads on his skin,’ Aesca directed her techs. ‘The monitors won’t be fine enough for what she wants.’ She stepped behind Celene. ‘Let’s get you out of that vest.’
When Celene pulled away she let fly. ‘Either he is a threat or not. If he is a threat he does not belong here.’
‘The threat is only to himself,’ said the Specialist, turning to face her. ‘He was - is giving in to despair - catastrophically. In that state, the memories he confronts would destroy him. The stun was to stop him.’
‘What do you plan to do now?’ asked Aesca. Celene stayed silent. The hint of panic in her eyes told Aesca enough. She doesn’t know. ‘Why did you start something you couldn’t finish?’ she demanded.
The small woman lifted her chin. She forced her breath to say, ‘My intention was to break him, find out what he has been hiding, from himself as well as us.’
You have done the first part, thought Aesca, and how many others have you hurt to achieve that much?
‘There was a possibility that he carried imprints that caused him to kill Briodi,’ said Celene flatly. ‘I could not leave it untried.’
That set Aesca back. She knew there was more to Trahern but she had not thought of anything so vile. Her anger at the Specialist died. She would have taken a knife to him herself if the possible corruption had been in her domain.
‘Can anyone else do this?’ she asked. ‘You should not be having trouble breathing now. There is something wrong.’
‘I don’t know if I can do it. It may be impossible.’
Aesca helped the small woman out of the vest. ‘Impossible’ … sounds like a job for the marines. ‘Your marine did the impossible. It is not possible to move under full stun yet Spence did.’
Aesca guided Celene to the other bed. Her tech had his arm raised with the palm down, indicating that the Grey was still under. She would have time to examine the Specialist. The room seemed crowded. She signalled everyone except her aides out with her free hand, all the while talking to Celene. The Scholar was there, next to the door. When did he come in? He was unaffected by her glare, standing like a statue with that long staff of his.
‘I have another marine coming in that did the impossible,’ she continued. ‘Stood on two broken legs, completely fractured, all the large bones. Squad leader Seca, out on the Rim. She moved to man a mag cannon emplacement. She and Tommo held the valleys long enough for the others to suit up and go over the ridges. Their counterattack was fierce enough to drive off the enemy. But our losses have been great.’ She paused to open Celene’s shirt and lay a sensor on her chest. ‘Squad leader Seca will be shorter by a few centimetres.’ The amazing marine had held on to the controls and balanced on the broken ends of her bones while the vibrations from the cannon ground them together.
‘And Tommo, what of him?’ asked her tech from the Trahern’s bedside. The big marine was well known and well liked on Base.
‘They are bringing something of him back,’ answered Aesca. The talk, meant to calm the Specialist and give her time to think, had raised Aesca’s own fears. The Rim. Michael would go there soon. It is a deadly place, a shredder of lives. We should destroy it. Reduce it all to dust! Her anger returned.
‘Your vest must be faulty,’ she told Celene. ‘The stun has hit the nerves to your lungs hard. They are only now recovering. This is not meant to happen even on the full stun side of the output. I don’t know how it missed your heart.’ Aesca lifted the sensor pad off and flipped Celene’s shirt closed. ‘Take action on this. If you don’t, I will. I will not have my wards filled by our own neglect.’
The small woman buttoned as she stood, darting a quick glance at the Scholar.
Surely she didn’t mind me exposing her fine little breasts to that old stick, thought Aesca. Ah, I don’t know this one well enough.
Celene moved across to Trahern. Aesca followed. ‘I’ll take over now,’ she told her techs. ‘You two back to the wards. Check in on the Amazon and the scout for me.’ She and Celene took up positions on either side of the bed. The Scholar remained near the door, unmoving. I must find a pigeon for his head, she thought spitefully. The Specialist seemed more sure of herself. ‘You know what to do now?’ Aesca asked.
‘I know what has to be done,’ answered Celene. ‘His existence is threatened by what he experienced in the deep. In your terms, sensory deprivation, more absolute than anything that could be set up by our most advanced technical sy
stems. Not for days, but for years. And not artificial. An emptiness he recognised as the preponderant component of the universe; the matter and energy and the minor fraction of space organised by these two entities which we normally consider to be ‘the universe’ only a thin film defining the other.’
‘How could he endure it? How could he come back to us as whole as he has?’ asked Aesca. She did not need concepts of the universe, the sensory deprivation was enough. I understand that.
‘This is Trahern. I don’t believe there has ever been anyone with a will forged so strong.’ Celene shook her head in apparent awe. ‘He opened himself to stay in touch with the barest hints of matter and energy and shut his mind to the rest. To survive, to get back here.’
‘Can you help him shut it out again?’ asked Aesca.
‘No. I precipitated this but it was inevitable. He can not contribute to the Guard as he is. He knows that now. He will not ignore it.’
‘And if he faces it, he loses his mind?’
‘Unless I can change his perception.’
‘Then get ready to try your magic. His function is starting to return.’
Celene knelt down and placed her mouth close to the Grey’s ear.
*
She had done it. Trahern was now sleeping peacefully in Gati’s room, the handsome Grey sitting alongside, their positions reversed from their earlier time in Med. A time that did not seem so long ago to Aesca. That thought in turn brought Michael to her mind. I hope he comes soon.
Aesca’s comm buzzed. An urgent call from Sub-commander Visco. The Head Psych was required immediately but was not answering her comm. Was she in Med?
‘Yes, Commander,’ answered Aesca. ‘I am on my way to her now. I will advise her.’
A request.
‘Yes, I can keep the comm open,’ she answered.
He is in a state, thought Aesca. She had not heard that much life in his voice in a long time. She had been planning to call him in, concerned about his health. Visco had lost his spleen and one of his kidneys in an Arm action long before she joined the Guard. His recovery was charted as complete yet his recent listlessness suggested the onset of complications. This excitement was a good sign. Perhaps the problem is only psychological.
The door to Spence’s room was open. A marine nodded to her and moved off down the corridor as she approached, a wistful smile on his face.
The sight inside stopped her at the threshold.
Another pair, one in the bed and one sitting beside. There was something strangely moving about the scene.
Both were asleep. Spence had passed from unconsciousness directly to a deep sleep earlier in the evening. His body twitched occasionally, very slight movements that did not wake his companion. Definitely some damage, said the clinical side of Aesca’s mind. The other side of her mind was melting. Oh, where is Michael? He should see this.
Celene sat straight in the chair, her head tilting slightly forward the only capitulation to her exhaustion, even in sleep. Her arm was out to the side, her palm on Spence’s bare shoulder. That’s it, realised Aesca. She is touching him. I have never seen her touch anyone, ever. Lean in and berate, sure. But never contact. Aesca was surprised and happy. She knew of Spence’s infatuation, his friends teased him endlessly. But Celene? How had he caught her heart? For she knew that’s what this scene showed, as clear as herself tangled naked in Michael’s long limbs, this bare touch. I don’t think he has even spoken to her.
A low murmur from the comm brought her back to herself. Visco was waiting. It will be a shame to break this up, thought Aesca.
CHAPTER 29: WITNESS TO THE MARVELS
Elsewise stood on the sand of Nata’s training ground high on the roof of Base, his staff, as ever now, in his hand. His small friend was nearby, motionless also, seated with legs folded across each other and hands on knees.
In the grey light of the night we must appear like statues from ancient times, one from the west and one from the east, thought Elsewise. And though millennia separate us, our thoughts would not greatly differ from our ancestors. Does man have free will? Is there such a thing as fate?
He had advised Nata that his contemplation would be deep and perhaps lengthy, no time limit to be applied as this was of his own volition. His friend had eased down into a meditative pose of his own.
He has had better success than I, thought the scholar. The concentration Elsewise sought had not come. His thoughts would not settle into a concerted flow. Each wanted to run in its own direction.
Trahern had not interacted with the beings of the Ships while lost in the deep. The Specialist had established that, talking the Grey through his ordeal once again. All his time was accounted for and his behaviour explained. So much for my hopes.
Nevertheless, Trahern was unique. ‘Forged’ had been the Specialist’s description. Forged by accident and circumstance, was the Scholar’s conclusion. He did not want to give AI credit for so involved an evolution. But their purpose did await this being. The Box, prepared to last for eons, clasped within the protective embrace of the Guard, was positioned to test the hardened thousands already winnowed from billions. Thousands became millions themselves over the time available. Are there other such installations scattered through our universe? pondered Elsewise. Not only at military locations but perhaps also at nodes of exploration or navigation. Increasing the numbers to all but eliminate chance.
His thoughts had almost coalesced here, but even with as great an import as they promised, his mind moved on.
Specialist Celene. He knew who she was now. Perhaps it was this dilemma which disturbed his mind. He had rationalised his way past it, yet still it hovered over his contemplation. I may have conditioning of my own relating to such matters.
Her work with Trahern had been masterful. From his position next to the door of the medical room, Elsewise’s hearing had been fine enough pick up the low repetitive tones she had used to prepare the Grey, to bring him to consciousness receptive to further discourse. This was the most critical step. If it had failed there would have been nothing anyone could do to save him. His mind would have been unreachable.
‘Trahern, listen to me. These words are important. To the Guard. Commander, your attention. For the Greys.’ Her inflection changed slightly with the phrases, sometimes commanding, sometimes pleading, intent or respectful. Repeated close to his ear, intimately. Gradually more words were added, concepts increasing in complexity to match his returning awareness, his level of consciousness indicated in curious hand movements by the doctor on the other side of the bed, now also on her knees.
‘Trahern, listen to me. We are aware of your state. The Guard has information that applies. It has been studied. We have an answer. This is our domain. We guard the Passages. That is our duty, the duty of the Greys. Your cadre needs you to carry out its role in the Guard. Listen and consider.’
Her words were repeated, gradually strengthening, a mantra building in time with the medic’s signals. That stern woman’s hand tapped out the Grey’s pulse on her own chest. Slow at first, then up to her ear, slightly faster. A long time there by Elsewise’s reckoning. Then to just below her eye. Trahern’s lids twitched to compliment her sign but did not open. Then sharply her finger stabbed to her temple and fixed there. The Specialist continued without losing a beat, her words flowing freely now.
‘The Passages are our charge. It is not enough to simply know that they are there. We must know their makeup and that of their surroundings. We have this knowledge. It bears on your experience. You spoke of spreading your existence thin so that it wasn’t crushed by the emptiness you perceived. Your intent here is correct and that is why you succeeded, although your perception was wrong.’ She paused only long enough between sentences to allow her words to register. Elsewise admired her pace. She controlled the discourse, not allowing Trahern to fall into deeper consideration or denial.
‘Thinning is no way to resist or oppose a crushing force or weight. It is, however, a practical way to ef
fect a transition. This process is all around us. Your response in the far reaches was ‘natural’, no different to everything animate or inanimate in the universe. Everything has an edge, an apparent boundary. But these are merely differences in the organisation of matter, energy and space. And one other entity that we as humans can comprehend. Time. Here we find the explanation of the Passages.’ She paused a little longer this time.
‘The Passages are the only parts of the universe that are truly empty. Their emptiness is absolute over time.’ She emphasised the last two words. ‘There is nothing there and never will be. So there is nothing separating two points in our universe and you can traverse instantly what would be incredible distances should you try them by any other route. This is the basis of humankind’s movement into the wider universe. I am sure you are aware of this circumstance. The far reaches, the deeps, whatever we choose to call them, are different.’
Elsewise saw where she was attempting to take Trahern. He recognised the theorem, and it was here that he had recognised Celene. This was Luccalt’s Exposition, arrived at after millennia of study and presented to the courts of the Inner Belt. It dealt with the concept of time. Considered to be of great philosophical interest, he had never heard the implications explained so concisely or put to such practical use. Celene wisely avoided the discussion of the elements of time which make up their own set of dimensions that occupied the core of the theory.
‘Your perception was limited by time and your own involvement. It is part of our condition, the human condition, that we can, and must, reconsider our perceptions. Remember this point. We will come back to it.’ Trahern’s eyes were open now, mere slits, yet they betrayed cognisance and interest.
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