Eternity's End

by Jeffrey Carver

  One... two... THREE!

  Their release was uncoordinated, and the coil tumbled away and sank like a stone.

  Deutsch pulled it back in, zzzzzip. Try it again. Focus, people. Timing is everything.

  He counted to three. This time Ker'sell held on an instant too long, and the coil flew up over their heads. Deutsch brought it back for a third attempt.

  A voice broke into the net: What are you doing in there? Are we getting any closer? The coil vanished, the image broken.

  Legroeder explained to the captain.

  Can you do this without damaging the net? Glenswarg asked.

  We'll have to watch the stresses if we do make contact. But right now we see no other way.

  Glenswarg's reluctance was palpable. Very well, since we can't seem to raise their captain on the flux-com. Is there anything you need us to do here?

  No, we just need to concentrate. With your permission... Freem'n? One more time?

  Deutsch recreated the coil.

  After two more tries, they finally came together on the rhythm and direction. The coil sailed out toward the glittering net of the other starship. Catch it! Legroeder shouted.

  The shadow figures in the other ship's net moved and shifted, and stretched their own net...

  And missed.

  Two more failures followed. And then, at last, the shadows in the other net moved together, and caught it.

  The line snapped taut. The sudden strain in Phoenix's net left them all gasping. The net was stretched out like a nylon stocking with a boulder in its toe.

  As they struggled, a voice reverberated down the net. Are you guys for real-l-l?

  Startled, Legroeder sharpened the focus. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of two, no three, faces peering back through the net at him. Hello, Impris, he called. We're Phoenix. We've been looking for you. What is your condition?

  Our condition? said a different Impris voice, this one tinged with hysteria.

  The first voice: We're stranded!

  I know. We've been—

  Are you stranded, too? cried the Impris rigger.

  No, we're—Legroeder hesitated—the rescue party.

  RESCUE? There was stunned silence in the joined nets. Do you know how to get us out of—

  It's impossible! interrupted the second voice. We've been here forever!

  You've been here for a very long time, Legroeder said. But we're hoping to help you. We need to bring our ships together. If we can draw both of our nets in VERY GRADUALLY, we might be able to do it.

  The Impris rigger acknowledged. There was a sudden jerk on the net.

  EASE OFF! Legroeder shouted.

  The pressure eased.

  Legroeder glanced back at his alarmed rigger-mates, and together they began to draw the net in slowly. Deutsch soon got on the com to the bridge, asking for as much power to the net as the flux-reactor could give them. The effort was difficult and unnerving. What would happen if they overstrained the net?

  Behind him, the Narseil worked with dark, silent determination. As the riggers hauled in the line, like sailors on some ancient sailing ship pulling with their backs, the two ships drew slowly, almost imperceptibly, closer together.

  * * *

  On the bridge of starship Impris, Captain Noel Friedman stood with his hands on his hips, glaring from one control station to another. A strange, slow-motion pandemonium seemed to have taken hold of his crew—and truthfully, he wasn't in much better shape himself. A glance at his own reflection had shown a white-haired man, wild-eyed and unkempt, scarcely a man Friedman would have wanted to trust with his ship. When the summons to the bridge had echoed through the ship, he had been jarred out of a dazed stalk through the corridors. How long had he been doing that? And how long had his bridge crew looked like escapees from an asylum?

  Tiegs, the sanest of the bunch, had been on duty for most of this eternity as rigger-com; he was darting urgently back and forth among the com-console and the various bridge officers. Johnson, the navigator, was running around shouting like an evangelist that rescue was at hand. Gort and Fenzy, on systems, looked like two old drunks trying to decipher whether or not it was all a hallucination. The rest of them looked as though they were dreaming and happy to have it that way.

  Friedman stared at the image in the monitor, reflecting on Tiegs's report. Voice contact with another ship. The question was, were they in contact with spirits, or flesh-and-blood humans? That ship in the monitor looked awfully solid. But so had the other ships down through the years... all the ships that had turned out to be nothing but vapor, jests of a malicious universe.

  Or had they? Tiegs had maintained all along that those were real ships they'd seen, real voices of real riggers. Soho... Mirabelle... Ciudad de los Angeles... Centauri Adventurer... Friedman had never been sure himself. One way or another, they'd all slipped back into the night like dreams. But this one... could be different, he thought, rubbing his stubbly chin.

  Captain Friedman felt it in his gut, though he couldn't have said why. That black and gray ship out there, with its net stretched out toward Impris like a piece of ethereal taffy: Could this really be their rescuer?

  "Tiegs," said Friedman to his earnest young officer, "is that thing actually in physical contact with our net? Can you confirm that?"

  Tiegs hesitated. "Well—actually, Poppy says it is, and Jamal agrees. But—"

  Friedman frowned.

  "—Sully says it isn't, and they're arguing about it right now." Tiegs touched his ear, listening to the conversation in the net. "Sounds like Sully's getting a bit worked up. Claims they're hallucinating, and wants Poppy and Jamal to leave the net."

  Friedman closed his eyes, pondering through the haze of a sudden migraine. It was beyond him how the rigger crew had lasted this long together, after all the times their visions had turned to dust. The headache still thudding, he opened his eyes and studied the monitor again. The image of the other ship had grown noticeably. "That's no goddamn hallucination," he muttered. "Tell Sully to get out of there before he screws up the whole operation. If they need someone else, get Thompson."

  Tiegs pressed his throat mike. "Sully, Captain's orders are to come out of the net. Do you read me on that, Sully?" He touched his ear. "Did you hear me on that, Sully?" Tiegs shook his head. "We may have a problem getting him out."

  Friedman strode to the rigger-station where Sully was reclined behind a scratched and smudgy window. He rapped on the window, then pressed the com-key. "Sullivan, get your ass out here on the bridge!" After a moment's thought, he added more gently, "We need your help on something."

  He stepped back, waiting. The window opened, and Sully squinted out at him as if he'd just emerged from a cave. Staggering, Sully climbed out of the station. He was a big man, with sandy hair. He looked as if he'd been in the rigger-station for days.

  Friedman steadied him with one hand. "Sully, I want you to keep an eye on the monitor here and keep me informed about what's happening." And stay out of trouble, for God's sake.

  Sully looked around in puzzlement, then shrugged and went to stand in front of the monitor. "I see we have the hallucination up here on the screen," he said matter-of-factly.

  "That's right," said Friedman. "That's exactly the sort of thing I need you to tell me. Let me know if it gets any closer." He turned to Tiegs. "Find out if those two need help in there. And find me my backups."

  Tiegs nodded and returned to the com.

  Friedman stabbed a finger at Fenzy, a lanky fellow who had gotten up from his station to stare open-mouthed at the screen. "You—fire up the fluxwave and see if you can put me in contact with that ship's captain out there."

  * * *

  Through the joined nets, the faces of the Impris riggers were growing larger and clearer. There was definitely a haunted look about them, Legroeder thought; the ghost images earlier had not been all wrong. While the spectral faces staring back did not necessarily reflect the physical appearance of the men in the other ne
t, they undoubtedly echoed the men's states of mind. Was it surprising that they looked this way, if they had spent the last hundred twenty-four years in the net, waiting hopelessly for rescue?

  There was some inaudible crosstalk in the net.

  Say again? said Legroeder.

  I said, don't do that.

  Do what? Legroeder asked, then realized that some argument was going on in the Impris net. Maybe that explained the jerky hold the Impris crew was exerting on the line.

  The Phoenix crew continued to draw in the net, slowly but steadily. The effort was becoming somewhat less difficult as the reach of the net shortened.

  Cantha's voice cut in from the bridge. We're getting a call on fluxwave. It's from the captain of Impris.

  Legroeder wanted to cheer. Can you let us hear it?

  Stand by, said Cantha, and then a new voice filled the net.

  —is Noel Friedman, captain of Faber Eridani starliner Impris. To whom am I speaking?

  Glenswarg's voice filled the com. This is Captain Jaemes Glenswarg of Kyber-Ivan Phoenix. Captain, we are extremely pleased to have found you. Are you in need of assistance?

  Are we—? The other skipper's voice was choked with emotion. Captain, we are very much in need...

  As the captains conferred, Legroeder and his rigger-mates continued drawing Impris closer. Progress grew faster as the nets shortened and became stronger. Sooner than Legroeder would have imagined, the ships were nearly alongside each other. Legroeder signaled his fellow riggers to begin reaching all the way around Impris with the Phoenix net. It felt to him as if they were about to embrace a long-lost, estranged family.

  As his crewmates handled the net, Legroeder called across to the Impris crew, I'm Rigger Legroeder. We met once, years ago. I was aboard Ciudad de los Angeles then.

  Ciudad de los Angeles! echoed an astounded voice. Have you come back to haunt us, then?

  Legroeder blinked in astonishment. They had heard the L.A. riggers! With sudden exultation, he remembered his own first reason for being here. He had witnesses! Are you recording all this, Cantha? he shouted into the com. Get it all! Every word! As Cantha muttered an acknowledgment, he called, Impris—we heard your distress call seven years ago, on Ciudad de los Angeles. We couldn't help you then—but we've come back to get you!

  The confusion in the other net was palpable.

  What do you mean—?

  Seven years—?

  Deutsch murmured to Legroeder, It might be better not to try to explain too much right now.

  Legroeder nodded agreement. Impris, you're caught in a fold of the underflux. We will do our very best to get you out. May we grapple and dock?

  At that moment Glenswarg came on the com to tell the rigger crew that they had permission to dock with Impris. Legroeder drew a deep breath of triumph and relief.

  As the riggers began to enfold Impris in their net, he had a sudden unsettling vision of the joined nets echoing with manic laughter.

  Chapter 30

  Ghost Ship

  The grappling with the net turned out to be more difficult than Legroeder expected, despite Phoenix's net having been built for just such operations. Just as they were about to close around Impris, the passenger liner began to ripple in their grasp like a great silver fish. Afraid they might lose it, Legroeder called for more power to the flux-reactor. The shimmying became worse; it was like trying to hold onto a frightened whale. A low groan began to reverberate through the net. Everyone, stop! Legroeder cried. His pulse thudded in his ears as the net relaxed. Gradually, over several seconds, the reverberations subsided.

  Impris—what just happened? he called. Do you know what caused that instability?

  What instability? came the answer.

  Legroeder blinked. You didn't feel yourselves shimmying in our net a moment ago?

  Pause. We didn't feel anything.

  Legroeder turned to his crewmates. Did you feel it?

  Indeed, said`Palagren. Give me a moment to speak with Cantha...

  As the Narseil turned his attention to the com, Legroeder asked Ker'sell, What did you feel?

  Ker'sell's voice sounded sluggish, as though he were in a daze. Time, he said slowly. There's something wrong with it.

  What do you mean, wrong? asked Legroeder. Do you mean the tessa'chron? Is there something in the immediate future?

  Ker'sell hesitated, as if embarrassed. It's not that. It's as though it's... blurred, he said finally.

  Was this a Narseil admission of a weakness? Legroeder wondered. Ker'sell turned away, avoiding his gaze. Legroeder glanced down at Deutsch, who simply looked annoyed at the situation.

  Palagren spoke again. Cantha thinks what we were seeing was a temporal flutter. They measured no spatial anomalies from the bridge, but all of the Narseil felt a blurring in the tessa'chron.

  That's what Ker'sell said. What's it mean?

  Palagren took a moment to readjust himself in the net. I'm not seeing a clear window on past, present, and future. It's difficult to explain. My viewframe is smeared out, as if something's... vibrating the spacetime continuum. He looked closely at his fellow riggers. He did not appear to share Ker'sell's embarrassment about the subject. We may be feeling continuing quantum effects from our passage into this layer.

  Legroeder shivered. How much do we know about that?

  Palagren answered cautiously. Cantha and Agamem are studying it.

  Well, if you figure it out, don't forget to tell us, Deutsch muttered.

  Palagren looked at him wordlessly for a moment. Cantha suggests that we pull tight for a hard dock without actually encircling Impris with the net. He believes a physical joining might keep the two ships in better synch.

  I concur, said Captain Glenswarg, coming onto the com circuit. Pull us in as close as you can. We'll fire tethers across.

  Legroeder signaled the other riggers, and they began drawing the two ships together as before. When the gap had closed to a hundred meters, the captain ordered magnetic tethering cables launched across to anchor on Impris's hull. Bumper forcefields were turned on, to keep the ships from colliding, and the tethers drawn in. Finally Glenswarg ordered a boarding tube stretched between the ships. Before sending anyone through, he asked Legroeder if there was a chance of bringing the two ships out into normal-space.

  Legroeder hesitated before answering. The captain's desire was understandable; they all wanted to know that they had done more than just join Impris in eternal limbo. And yet...

  If I may interject, said Cantha, I believe it would be unwise to try. Until we understand better how we got into this fold, we could run the risk of burrowing ourselves in deeper.

  Glenswarg's silence sounded like a curse.

  Captain, said Legroeder, I think the sooner we get over there to talk to their crew, the better.

  All right, then—stabilize the net and come on out, Glenswarg said. I'll send in the backups.

  "Fine work," he said, when the four riggers were standing on the deck with him. "Now I want you to go get some rest."

  Legroeder started to protest, then saw the other ship begin to ripple in the monitor with a slow-motion distortion. He held his breath.

  "Don't worry, I'll call you when it's time for you to go over," Glenswarg said, reading his thoughts. "But first, we need to establish safe passage. That's going to take time. And I'm not about to risk you people until I have to. You're the only ones who have any hope of getting us out of here again."

  The captain was being smarter than he was, Legroeder realized. They were all exhausted. Very definitely, the smartest thing they could do right now was to go get some sleep.

  * * *

  Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easily. Legroeder kept thinking about Impris, floating beside them. He was desperately eager to cross over and physically touch the ship, and at the same time, the prospect filled him with fear. Several times, as he was just drifting off, he awoke again with a sudden, burning sense of dread—an inexplicable feeling that something was waiting
to haunt him in his sleep. He told himself not to be foolish; he was just overtired.

  Something out there... hidden...

  Go to sleep.

  In the end, with some help from the implants, he did sleep; but even in the depths of sleep, he remained aware of an irrational fear... a feeling that there was a monster in this realm, lurking just out of sight.

  When he awoke, he felt as though he had not slept at all. He had the strangest sense that he had somehow slipped through time as he slept. (I don't feel quite right,) he murmured to his implants, as he was getting dressed.

  // We register an inconsistency in your biological clock, compared with our clock mechanism.//

  (Explain.)

  // We cannot.//

  Cannot, he thought, frowning to himself as he looked in the mirror and gave his umbrella-cut hair a quick swipe. His eyes looked bleary. He sighed and went to find the others.

  It wasn't long before the riggers were gathered, with rolls and cups of murk, in the briefing room off the galley. "I just spoke to the captain," Deutsch reported. "They're about to open the boarding tunnel to Impris. Let's see if we can get it on the monitor here." Deutsch made some adjustments to the wall screen, and soon had a picture of three Kyber crew members, including the first officer, making their way through the Phoenix airlock and then into the tunnel-shaped boarding tube. As the three men floated toward Impris, half the screen showed them dwindling down the tube and half showed a view, apparently from a shoulder-mounted camera, of the other ship drawing near. The Impris airlock opened as they approached.

  Legroeder realized he was holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale.

  "We're in the airlock now," reported the first officer on the comlink. "Airlock's closing." The image became shadowy as the other ship's hull came between the men and Phoenix, but the voice transmission was still clear enough to hear: "Cycling and opening on the inside..."

  Standing in the briefing room, they could make out the door sliding open, and a large group waiting inside Impris.

  "Hello!" called the first officer.