“Nothing is ever concrete when you’re dealing with an alien species,” Tarke said. “Sometimes a good guess is the closest you’ll ever come to the truth. Intuition is a great guide, and shouldn’t be ignored.”
“Why this girl is so important?”
“I told you, she’s supposed to be the Golden Child, and from recent events, I think it’s safe to say that she is.”
“But if the Ship’s gone, why pursue it? Maybe the Atlanteans are right.”
Tarke snorted. “In my experience, the Atlanteans are never right. I have a feeling the Ship will be back, if she fails.”
“But how can we help her?”
“That remains to be seen. First we have to find her.”
“Are you sure there isn’t another reason for this?” Vidan asked. “According to the prophecy, she must face the challenge alone, and she should succeed. It doesn’t mention anyone helping her.”
“What are you inferring?”
Vidan smiled. “That you might be a little too concerned about her, maybe? And perhaps your concern comes from something else?”
Tarke chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you. The thought never crossed my mind.”
The Shrike preceded Vidan into the corridor and set off towards the control centre, his grey coat flaring. All who encountered him stepped aside with smiles, some bowed, and most paused to watch him walk away, clearly glad to see him on his feet again, albeit with a pronounced limp.
In the control centre, Tarke viewed the pirated information several times. The commonest theory amongst his scientists was that the Crystal Ship had taken Shadowen into the energy dimension, where he would have been destroyed. This clearly did not please Tarke, and nor did he agree with it. He had the visual data replayed at a slower speed, pointing out the various anomalies, and froze the image at the critical point when events became confusing.
The image of the Crystal Ship filled the screen, awe inspiring in its beauty, slashing space with beams of light. Tarke pointed to the upper right-hand corner of the screen, where a golden energy shell had just come into view.
“There. That’s Shadowen approaching the Ship, still in his shell. Now watch this.” He advanced the image and froze it again. “There, he’s shedding his shell, preparing to emerge from the link.” He advanced the image again and stabbed his finger at the screen. “Look at that. Shadowen has shed his shell, and suddenly he’s almost on top of the Crystal Ship.”
The scientists nodded, their blank expressions telling Vidan that they could not see Tarke’s point. Vidan was having difficulty with it too. Tarke advanced the image yet again. A spear of light linked the two ships, which had become transparent. Stars were clearly visible through them. Tarke advanced the image once more, and there was only a faint, ghostly outline left, then, on the next image, nothing.
The Shrike turned to the scientists. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is not a ship going into the energy dimension. It faded. There was no energy shell, no link. It’s as if they dissolved.”
“But where else could they have gone?” a senior scientist asked. “There’s nowhere else to go. They definitely left this dimension.”
“Right, but they didn’t go into the energy dimension, so they went somewhere else. If they didn’t go up or sideways, they must have gone down.”
“Down?”
Tarke waved a hand. “A figure of speech. There must be another dimension, and I want you to find it.”
The scientists stared at him, patently stunned. A grizzled man in his fifties ventured, “Sir, it’s all very well to conjecture something so bizarre, but to actually find such a thing...”
“It’s there. The proof is on the screen. All you have to do is find it. Find a way to detect it, look into it. You’re looking at the surface of an ocean without seeing into its depths. Plumb it, and do it fast.”
The Shrike strode out, leaving a stunned silence behind him. Vidan shot the scientists a sympathetic look before hurrying after him. He caught up in the corridor.
“Tarke! You’re asking the impossible.”
“No, I’m not. If the Crystal Ship can go there, it can be found.”
“But even if they do, we can’t go there any more than we can go into the energy dimension, except in a transfer.”
Tarke halted. “She’s in there, trapped with that damned Envoy. I have a feeling she needs my help.”
“You don’t know that. Perhaps the Crystal Ship used this other dimension to transfer itself somewhere else.”
“Why would it, when it can use the energy dimension?”
Vidan’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. No one does.”
“Let them try, at least. In the meantime, I’m going to look for this Endrix entity.”
“But you don’t know where to look!”
Tarke limped away down the corridor again. “I know where they disappeared.”
“That’s too close to Atlan. You can’t go there!”
“Since you don’t have a sleep inducer over my head this time, I’d like to see you try to stop me.”
Vidan groaned, then hurried back towards the control centre.
Rayne woke in waves, her consciousness contracting from the Ship’s vastness back to her limited perception. The universe expanded around her, becoming once more a limitless expanse of vacuum with widely scattered stars and planets, instead of the much smaller reality the Ship understood. She tried to open her eyes, but they were glued shut. Plucking a hand from the sticky surface on which she lay, she wiped the goo from her eyes and opened them.
At first she thought she had been struck blind, the darkness was so complete. She seemed to be in a vast cavern, for she sensed invisible dimensions. A warm wind blew over her, roaring in distant tunnels and chambers. She lay on a slope, the goo that coated her holding her to it. Lifting an arm, she climbed, hoping to find more light. The Ship’s alien thoughts hissed in her mind, but it was unable to understand her request for light. She struggled on, her progress slow.
It seemed like hours later that the slope levelled off, and she unglued herself from the surface to stand up. Instantly she regretted it as she lost her balance and teetered, arms wind milling. The Crystal Ship had no gravity, and she almost floated into the air. The sticky surface saved her, and she bent to place her hands on it, resolving to crawl. Without gravity, she had no idea if she was crawling on the floor or the ceiling. Did it matter? Why had she thought she was climbing a slope earlier? Puzzled, she crawled forward, hoping to find light.
It appeared several hours later, a faint rosy glow that made her think of the seething chamber. She headed towards it, more cautious now. Strange, spicy scents floated on the wind that blew in her face like a warm exhalation. A vast tunnel became visible in the growing light, forested with crystal stalactites and stalagmites. She appeared to be in the Ship’s respiratory system. Gaining confidence, she rose to her feet and walked, with difficulty.
Each step entailed plucking her foot from the sticky surface and pressing it to a new spot, then repeating the process. Although slow, it was a little faster than crawling. The light ahead brightened, turning the walls a strange pinkish grey. She followed a slight bend in the tunnel, which opened into a vast area that made her stop in surprise. Giant pink puffballs tipped crystal columns of surpassing beauty, and soft green moss heaved and breathed under her feet.
The chamber’s vastness, combined with its damp air, contrived to shroud the distance in mist. Long fronds of brilliant green, tree-like growths waved in the breeze, forming a filigree web stretched out to the light. The panorama extended up the curving walls, an endless land of bizarre alien growths sprouting from a green carpet. The light that filled the air with rainbows came from all around, channelled into this amazing chamber through crystals that glowed like stars in the walls.
Taking a step, Rayne yelped and retreated. The green moss was not sticky, offering no purchase, and she had almost drifted off. She pondered the fantastic landscape in frustration, unable to traverse
it. Her emotions brought a hiss of alien concern, and she tried to express her need for gravity, unsure if the Ship would understand, and, even if it did, if it could do anything about it.
A subtle change passed through the flesh beneath her feet, like a tightening. The Ship’s vague thoughts conferred assurance, and she stepped forward again. This time, there was enough gravity to stop her floating away. With gliding steps, she walked into the fabulous landscape. For a while she just gaped at the scenery, too enthralled to remember her purpose.
The Ship’s thoughts prickled her mind. Her fascination with its innards seemed to surprise it, and it seemed confused that she found it so strange. When she tried to walk up a wall, which was only up in relation to her down, but in the scheme of things appeared to be an extension of the ground on which she stood, the walls had no gravity, so it had to come from the huge creature’s distant core. That gave the chamber a definite sense of top, sides and bottom, although all were uniformly grassed with the emerald moss and forested with weird growths.
It also explained her earlier sensation of climbing a slope. She must have been nearer to the core then. She chose a path along the bottom of the chamber, wandering deeper into it without really knowing where she was going. A vague sense of purpose urged her to find the Envoy, but the Ship constantly rinsed that thought from her mind. The distant roof could be glimpsed through the cloud-like shrouds of mist, and the dampness condensed on her skin and clothes, becoming a little unpleasant. Further on, she encountered what appeared to be a stream of clear water running along the floor. It gushed from a hole in the wall and ran for a distance before soaking away into a plain of verdant growths.
Occasionally, she passed more tunnels entering the chamber, some exhaling warm wind, others inhaling it. This part of the Ship seemed dedicated to producing oxygen, and at times clouds of rich air made her dizzy. Only when her legs ached did she realise that she had been walking for several hours, and hunger clenched her stomach. She sat down beside a tall, yellow tree-like growth, rubbing her legs. At this rate, she might never find what she was searching for, and she had a feeling that the Envoy was far from her present location. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the Ship’s mind, calling it into hers.
It rushed in, joyful at her summons and eager to share itself with her. She wondered why it was so keen to communicate with her, and the answer came in a gush of sorrow, an alien concept of minds sharing a single awareness, a vast communal being of which the Ship had been a small part. In its home nebula, each ship shared its experiences with the others in a wonderful medley of sensations, and any individual could tune into another at will, side-lining the rest. Thus, lifelong friendships formed, and some blossomed into relationships so strong that the ships moved together physically as well.
Scrysalza described two friends who had grown so close they had meshed their wings and become one, quite literally. This, however, did not please the Envoys, and the parasites had forced them apart. The Ship’s mind link was a limited one, however, and since it had left the nebula, it had lost contact with the others and grown lonely. Rayne shared the loneliness of the dark emptiness of space, cold and inhospitable after Scrysalza’s warm nebula. She sent it sympathy, and was rewarded with a flood of new thoughts, which she sorted through.
The Ship liked her. It found her to be friendly and sympathetic, unlike the harsh, domineering Envoy. It had therefore decided to keep her safely away from the Envoy, so she would not be harmed. A brief vision of the seething rosy chamber hinted that it was far away, near the Ship’s core, and so she was safe where she was. Rayne drew several conclusions from this. Scrysalza was a creature with a short attention span, one that, although it did not forget, quickly forgave prior abuses. When Rayne had first encountered it, the Envoy had recently hurt it, forcing it to bring him to Atlan.
That was fading now, however. The Envoy had been dormant for many hours, and already the Ship had forgiven him. When Rayne suggested that Scrysalza should return to the nebula, she received only blank fear, which told her all she needed to know. The Ship had been trained. It knew that disobeying the Envoy would bring punishment, and would not risk it. Its lack of initiative also warned her that Scrysalza was not very intelligent, or if it was, its character was so gentle it appeared to be stupid.
Either that, or a worse possibility, that the Envoy could inflict so much pain that to disobey him would result in the kind of suffering no sentient being would willingly endure. She tried to insist that Scrysalza take her to the Envoy, but received only shocked refusal. Even reminding the Ship of why it had brought her aboard would not sway it. It had decided that she was a pleasant companion, and would not put her at risk.
Tarke stared at the energy-sheathed screens as Scimarin decelerated towards Atlan. Vidan’s concern was not without foundation, but he had been here before, and it was possible to venture this close without being detected. Scimarin transmitted the identity signature of an Atlantean freighter called Parnal, and only a visual scrutiny would reveal his true identity. The Atlanteans were distracted by recent events, and, after a brief challenge, ignored him.
The vast fleet that surrounded the area where the Crystal Ship had disappeared did not bother him; Scimarin could outrun any of them with ease. What did bother him was the growing sensation of helplessness that sat in the pit of his stomach. The prospect that he might not be able to find Rayne unsettled him, for although he had been in hopeless situations more times than he cared to remember, they had never involved the safety of anyone other than himself.
As Scimarin drifted past the area where Shadowen and the Crystal Ship had vanished, Tarke studied the information scrolling up on the various holographic readouts. Nothing appeared to be unusual about the area. No anomalies offered any explanation for the disappearance of the two ships. He ordered Scimarin to make his deceleration as slow as possible, allowing more time to study the area and probe it with his impressive array of sensors. Tarke’s gloom deepened as test after test came up blank.
A Net link, even for a transfer, left behind a distinct signature of ionised plasma, which could be detected even days after the link had been broken or moved away. Such trails could be followed. He could track a ship like that, provided he could distinguish a particular trail from all the others, which was not easy. This area was rife with ionised plasma, since it was heavily trafficked, yet no other tell-tale sign revealed the method by which the Crystal Ship had stolen Shadowen. If the Ship had acted alone, she might be safe for now, but if the Envoy had ordered her abduction, he doubted that she would survive unless he found her.
A readout flashed, drawing his attention. The numbers it displayed did not make sense at first, and he frowned. “What’s this, Scimarin?”
“An anomaly detected in the coded yellow spectrum, a residue of a sort, but not created by any ship I know.”
“Where?”
“In the centre of the suspect area, but at a distance of several light minutes.”
Tarke tapped the arm of his chair. “How’s that possible?”
“It’s in another dimension. The residue is a continuous stream, like smoke from a fire. It’s rising into this dimension from the one below, if it can be described like that. The coded yellow light is the result of vast amounts of dimension energy being burnt in a void.”
Tarke considered the readout again. “Coded yellow light is not a recognised residue of dimension energy, only ionised plasma.”
“In this dimension. The dimension this seems to be emanating from must be so devoid of any matter that the ionised plasma itself is consumed, and the coded yellow light is the result of that.”
“I see. Send your report back to base. Tell the scientists to make something of it, then find a way to follow that trail.”
The console lights flashed, then steadied into a different pattern. Tarke wondered why he drew such pleasure from watching those superfluous lights, put there solely for his entertainment, to show that the ship was doing something when it was s
ilent.
Scimarin said, “I have sent the data, but following the trail, as you so blithely put it, is impossible.”
“Why?”
“The dimension it’s emanating from would consume me in about a second.”
“Then how is the Crystal Ship able to survive there, or Shadowen?” Tarke enquired.
“Shadowen’s fate is unknown, but the crystalline entity is using dimension energy to build a massive shield, I would assume, to protect itself from the ravages of the void dimension. That would account for the trace of coded yellow light that’s filtering back.”
The Shrike jumped up and paced the short curving space in front of his chair. “What about a transfer into the Crystal Ship?”
“We don’t have its co-ordinates, and a transfer into a third dimension might not work.”
“What’s the possibility of it working, if we can pinpoint the Crystal Ship’s location from the coded yellow light?”
“Even if we could estimate the Crystal Ship’s co-ordinates, which would be difficult, since we can’t detect this third dimension, I can’t project such a conclusion based on non-existent data.”
The Shrike eyed a console. “Sometimes you can be really irritating.”
“My personality is based on yours.”
“And nothing is more frustrating than arguing with oneself.”
“Or as pointless.”
He snorted. “Thank you for that gem of wisdom.”
“Several Atlantean ships are becoming interested in our extremely slow deceleration, which is almost a standstill. They’re asking if we require assistance.”
“Tell them we’re working on the problem. It’s not a serious one, just a constipated computer.”
“I am offended, Tarke. I’m not a computer.”
The Shrike returned to his chair, rubbing the ache in his chest. “Then use some of that vast artificial intellect and logical capacity to find a way to reach the Crystal Ship, or at least contact Shadowen.”
Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship Page 9
