Eternity's End

by Jeffrey Carver

  (Not really,) said Legroeder.

  (It's right here.) This was perfect, Deutsch thought; it seemed too good to be true.

  And usually, he realized an instant after he started up the thread, when something seemed too good to be true...

  * * *

  Kyber underground? And Impris in the same thread? Legroeder sent a flash summary back to Cantha and flew up the thread after Deutsch.

  A fraction of a second later, it occurred to him that perhaps there could be more to this than met the eye. Why would a connection to these two things be linked? Was the underground concerned with Impris? Or was it a...

  A new sound came up suddenly in the back of his head—a wiry, nervous sound like a buzz underwater. It came first from one direction, then another, and suddenly grew to a hollow gonging that filled the space all around them. (What the hell is that?)

  (It's an alarm,) Deutsch answered. (We may have tripped something. We'd better back off. Fast.)

  Legroeder cursed and hurried after the ghostly, retreating Deutsch. He felt a sudden, terrible suspicion. Had Deutsch triggered the alarm on purpose? Was this all a setup?

  Deutsch's voice echoed, (If we don't get out of here, they'll be down on us in no time.) Deutsch peered back at him. (What's wrong?)

  For a heartbeat, Legroeder was frozen with doubt and indecision. Could he trust Deutsch, or should he flee? But where could he—?

  (Legroeder, MOVE!)

  That snapped him out of it. (Coming!) Legroeder fired himself down the thread after Deutsch—his friend, yes?—trying to outrun the buzz of the alarm. Whatever his doubts or fears, they were in this together.

  Endless picoseconds later, they were back in the smoky room where they had started, in the docking station's intelnet subsystem. It still smelled oily and metallic, but the bass rhythm was more subdued now, and overlying it was a kind of harmonica sound. A persistent and growing harmonica sound. It made Legroeder increasingly uneasy. (Freem'n, did we do that? I've got a bad feeling—)

  He shut up when he realized that Deutsch was already scanning all connections into and out of the smoke-filled room. Legroeder could see little rays of light shooting this way and that through the data-matrix, as Deutsch unleashed his inner search machines, trying to localize the alarm. Trying to stay out of Deutsch's way, Legroeder conferred with his implants.

  // We have stored data to 13% of our capacity, which we are currently analyzing. We believe the sounds you have identified are indeed alarm transmissions, possibly with autonomic blocking attachments. There may be danger. We recommend attending to your personal safety.//

  (Meaning what? Should I get out of the intelnet?)

  // Quickly, if possible.//

  Legroeder hissed his breath out into the sudden chill of the data-matrix. Deutsch sensed it and turned. (What is it?)

  (My implants are telling me to get the hell out. Is there a security squad on the way?)

  Deutsch's voice seemed seared by a dark pain. (I think there might be. I don't know that we can do anything about it. You'd better pull out and warn the others.)

  Legroeder blinked hard. (Okay,) he whispered.

  So close, he thought. So goddamned close. And now...

  He pulled out of the intelnet.

  * * *

  "He's out!" called a Narseil voice.

  Fre'geel strode across the room, his face half covered by a transparent breathing mask. "What have you found? There are alarms going off all over! Did that pirate set them off?"

  Legroeder gulped air. He felt as if he'd just come out of a cocoon. "Not on purpose. Everything I got went out to Cantha. I got—I'm not sure what all, but—" He closed his eyes for a moment and saw a streaking flash of emerald: an enormous amount of data. But any of it useful?

  "Should I tell Cantha to transmit?" Fre'geel demanded.

  Breathless, Legroeder tried to think. It might be their last chance to get a message out to H'zzarrelik, and at that they would have to be very lucky. But if they did transmit, it would telegraph their presence and their intentions to the entire Kyber defense—if they weren't already known. That would not only endanger them, but would also betray the presence of H'zzarrelik, hiding out in the Flux.

  "Should we transmit?" Fre'geel asked, his voice suddenly iron. His hand, much larger than Legroeder remembered it, was reaching out as though to seize Legroeder by the throat. "Did we get information worth transmitting?"

  Meaning, if they had, this was the time to make themselves expendable. But if not, their next best hope was...

  Legroeder shook his head, his stomach knotting. "I don't think so. We were just on the verge. Dammit."

  "The verge of what, Rigger?"

  Legroeder peered anxiously up at the Narseil commander. "Just before we tripped the alarm, we'd found a thread connected to the Kyber underground. There were also references to Impris. It could have been a trap, I suppose—but why? Unless there really is an underground out there."

  Fre'geel's expression stopped him. He was squinting in the odd sort of way only a Narseil could squint, working at a decision. An army of Kyber troops was about to descend on them. But if they sent what they had, or boarded the ship and tried to flee...

  No. Legroeder didn't want to die for the sake of a bunch of planning commission reports. "I think there's still a chance we could get what we came for. Impris. Maybe contacts that could make a difference if..." If they could hook up with a Kyber underground. But as captives?

  "Are you prepared to take on your role, then?" Fre'geel said with a sharp glance upward. Footsteps could be heard through the ceiling. Fast and hard. "Rigger Legroeder—"

  Legroeder could barely draw a breath; the thought filled him with dread. Yes, he said, then realized it hadn't come out. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

  Fre'geel's gaze snapped around to check the positions of his people, then back to Legroeder. "Very well. Begin your role now. And Rigger Legroeder, I hardly need to say—"

  "Yes."

  "This radically alters the mission. I will do what I can to protect my people. But you must leave us to whatever happens. The next step is yours." The Narseil's gaze held him like a steel pin. "Deutsch. Will he help you?"

  "I think so," Legroeder said softly. He picked up his headset and put it back on. "Dear God, I hope so." And with great deliberation he turned away from Fre'geel.

  * * *

  Fre'geel watched with terrible unease as Legroeder returned to the intelnet connection. He had just dropped an enormous responsibility on Legroeder's shoulders. Would the human botch the job and bring the entire mission to an end? Would the pirate rigger betray them all?

  It was out of the Narseil's hands now.

  Fre'geel turned, touching his com-implant. "Cantha," he said, calling to Flechette.

  "Here," said Cantha.

  "Inform the crew to prepare for boarding and capture. Do not resist. We have turned primary control of the mission over to Rigger Legroeder. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," said Cantha, and Fre'geel knew that in that simple word were many emotions that Cantha would not reveal. The officer had developed a great fondness for the human, and was well aware of the risks. "Will there be a transmission to H'zzarrelik?"

  "No," said Fre'geel. "Store what you can in your augments. Erase the rest." Risk all that they had gained so far, in hopes of gaining more later.

  "Understood," said Cantha.

  Fre'geel broke the connection. The Kyber troops were in the corridors outside. His voice tightened involuntarily he called to his crew of commandos, "Lower your weapons and prepare to surrender!"

  * * *

  Fre'geel's voice echoed in Legroeder's thoughts even after he was immersed in the net. The next step is yours...

  In the data-matrix, everything was so confused that he had trouble even finding Deutsch. Before, the station had been a tech shop stinking of oil and smoke; now there were jets of steam everywhere, and lights flashing behind the billowing clouds of mist. (Freem'n!) he called, need overcom
ing caution.

  There was no direct answer from Deutsch, but he heard a tap tap tap somewhere on the other side of the dataspace, beyond the clouds of steam. He tried to move that way, and called out again, but there was still no answer from Deutsch. Tap tap tap.

  (Freem'n?)

  A blast of steam shot out in front of him, sending him staggering backward. He cursed, steadying himself. It felt so real, he almost forgot it was just a rush of data, probably a security-sweep protocol. He hesitated, crouching, then launched himself past the dissipating billow, searching for Deutsch. (Freem'n, where are you?)

  He passed by several darkened pillars. The whole chamber looked different now, and yet was recognizably the same. He came upon a collection of large steel drums, grimy and covered with illegible warning signs. God knew what was in them, or what they represented. He squinted and tried in vain to read one of the inscriptions. As he straightened and moved on, he suddenly saw Deutsch. The man was sitting on a crate, on the far side of the collection, leaning back against one of the drums.

  Legroeder hurried to him.

  Tap tap tap.

  The sound was coming from Deutsch. It was his metal arm, shorn of the garment that had covered it, twitching and vibrating as if trying to move, stuck in a half-extended position. At first Legroeder thought it was tapping against the drum; then he realized that it was the arm jerking against itself in some kind of internal jam.

  (Freem'n, do you need help?)

  Deutsch seemed to gaze directly at Legroeder, but showed no sign of recognition, or any awareness at all. His eyes glowed like tiny light bulbs behind dusty, dark-colored glass.

  Jesus, Legroeder thought.

  What the hell could have happened?

  The implants stirred. // Likelihood: he may be trapped in an electrocution-web matrix. Any attempt to free him could result in injury to him or to you.//

  (I can't just leave him here. How will he get free?)

  // Likelihood: he will be freed when he is freed. Likelihood: whatever intelnet agent detected and trapped him will release him again when it chooses. There is probably nothing you can do.//

  Legroeder circled around, studying Deutsch from various angles. (Freem'n, if you can hear me—if I knew how to free you, I would. If you can speak, now is the time.)

  Deutsch, unblinking, appeared to drool.

  Legroeder made his decision grimly. (I have to go ahead with the job, then—as we'd planned, in case of problems.) He hesitated, afraid to say too much. He started to turn, then swung back. (I'm sorry I doubted you for a moment back there, Freem'n. If I can find a way to help you—inside the intelnet or out—) He ran out of words. What more could he say?

  With a final wave, he rose on the clouds of steam and looked for a place to hide himself while he sorted out what to do next.

  * * *

  The plan, at this point, was of necessity vague. But he could feel, welling up through the augments, a series of datapacks intended to help him.

  // We have prepared all the elements of a working ID for you. Are you ready to assume your new identity?//

  (As ready as I'll ever be. Do you think it will work?)

  // We analyzed the situation while you were exploring. Recommended action: create the impression that you set off the alarm against the Narseil. We can plant tracking indicators in the intelnet to convey this. Shall we do so now?//

  He swallowed hard. It was one of the options in the plan—but it was difficult. (All right.)

  // Please stand by. We will attempt to establish your ID in the system.//

  Legroeder held his breath, as a flower of light blossomed out from where he stood and rose into the upper layers of the intelnet interface. Its shoot vanished into the mists like a beanstalk.

  A moment passed. There were flickerings of light at the top of his vision—the implants at work in his skull, doing whatever the hell they were doing. He felt a sudden blip between his eyes, and the space around him seemed to brighten suddenly, as though a dimmer switch had been nudged up.

  // ID established.//

  // Attempting to place tracking records. One moment... //

  He waited anxiously, as a pattern of streaks shot up and out, twinkling as it spun a spiderweb path through the surrounding matrix. An instant later, it all came back, like a holo in reverse.

  // Done.//

  He felt a chill up his spine. (What now?)

  // For your own protection, you may wish to inspect your physical surroundings.//

  Physical surroundings. Christ. Legroeder started to back out of the intelnet, then realized he could check from here. A series of windows opened around him like shutters: monitors showing the room he was sitting in and the surrounding corridors.

  Full of raider commandos.

  Full of Narseil with their hands clasped awkwardly behind their heads. Their face masks had been removed.

  And seated at the console, two motionless figures. He recognized Deutsch first, then himself. He had nearly forgotten what he looked like, with his flaring, umbrella-cut grey hair.

  Surrounded by the enemy.

  // Reminder: you have an ID now. You are a member of this society. //

  There was a brief flash of images. When it was over, he knew that according to his ID, he was a raider being transferred to this outpost, by way of having served as a spy on the Narseil ship. It should not be surprising if he had trouble finding his way around the station.

  He drew a breath and pulled out of the intelnet. He found four cyborg commandos aiming laser weapons at him. Several others were flashing bright handlight beams around; all but the emergency illumination had been cut off. Beside him, Deutsch sat motionless as a statue, still plugged in. A raider gestured sharply. Legroeder raised his hands and lifted the com-helmet from his head. He glanced around, moving only his eyes. Fre'geel and several other Narseil were being held on the other side of the room. They were watching him closely.

  An amplified baritone voice said, "Did you sound the alarm?"

  It took him a moment, squinting through the shifting beams of light, to find the raider who had spoken—to make sure he was the one being addressed. He started to answer, then simply nodded, swallowing his words. His gaze drifted back to the Narseil. Some of them knew the role he was to play, but not all of them. Would they believe he'd betrayed them? It was necessary, to be convincing. His face burned as he forced himself to speak. "Yes. I set off the alarm. Along with him." He nudged Deutsch.

  "You'll come with us, then," said the raider. "What's wrong with him?" He pointed his weapon at Deutsch.

  "He—" Legroeder's voice caught as he tried to formulate an answer "—he got caught in a system loop, trying to help me get the alarm out. He... needs to be released. I don't know how." Legroeder hesitated, looking away from his crewmates as he uttered the words of betrayal. "I... was planted with the Narseil. Undercover. I'm from another outpost."

  "Is that so?" The Kyber made a squawking sound and stepped up to slap his palm to a connector on the console. A second later, Deutsch slumped forward. A pair of guards lifted him effortlessly and carried him from the room. "We'll see to him," said the lead Kyber to Legroeder. "You come with me." He turned and made a sound like a grate opening. The other guards barked commands and raised their weapons—and for a terrible moment, Legroeder thought they were going to kill his friends on the spot. To his relief, they began herding the Narseil from the room.

  Legroeder was escorted separately. Out in the corridor, he was pushed to the right, away from the Narseil. He felt a lump in his throat as he turned his back on his shipmates.

  // It is part of the plan,// said a voice in his head.

  (Yeah,) he muttered, and after that, the implants were silent.

  The raider soldiers marched him through a maze of corridors and finally into a transport capsule set in a large vertical tube. He glanced at the stoic faces of the soldiers and wondered if, with experience, he could learn to read the expressions on those cyborg faces. He suddenly though
t once more about what he was doing. It had taken him seven years to escape from a raider stronghold. Now he was walking into another.

  The transport doors irised closed, and with an upward surge, they were moving.

  Chapter 21

  The Kyber Law

  Legroeder felt a steady vibration through his hands, pressed to the back railing of the transport capsule. He couldn't tell where he was going—there were no windows in the capsule—but he could feel it streaking in a great long arc, and he imagined that they must be shooting away from the docking station toward some other part of the Kyber outpost. He glanced around, trying to gain some clue from his three escorts.

  There was little expression on any of their faces, nor had anyone spoken to him since they'd left the control room. But the leader was busy talking to someone; his lips were moving silently but continuously, his gaze shifting back and forth between Legroeder and a small control panel near the door. Finally he nodded and touched a control, then settled into an alert stance with his eyes on Legroeder.

  After several long minutes, the movement of the transport slackened. Legroeder gripped the rail as deceleration kicked in. No one stirred until the transport came to a stop.

  The door irised open. The soldiers nudged him out into a concourse, brightly lit and full of people. Legroeder was amazed to see people walking around as though conducting normal, everyday business; he felt as if he had just crossed into another universe. This place looked nothing like the raider outpost at DeNoble, where he had been imprisoned; it was more like a spartan version of a space station in the Centrist Worlds.

  The soldiers led him through a maze of corridors away from the concourse. They finally stopped at an arched doorway shrouded by a glimmering, translucent privacy-screen. Through the screen, Legroeder could make out the shape of a person sitting at a desk. The leader seemed nervous. "Time to speak to the law," he said.