Resurrection

by Arwen Elys Dayton

  Adaiz and his older brother approached, awed by this private audience with so august a group. Behind them, the attending officer silently shut the doors.

  The central member of the Triad spoke. “Leader Enon-Amet and Officer Adaiz-Ari, you are welcome to our chamber. Your superiors have spoken nothing but praise of your service to Clan Providence and the Lucien race.”

  The two of them bowed deeply in response to this high compliment.

  “There is a matter of great import before us today,” the center Lucien continued. “We have deliberated for many months, and our minds are now clear. We have a course of action.” His two companions flexed their remnant antlers almost imperceptibly in agreement. “You know well of our plans to dispose of the Plaguers. This plan continues on schedule. Indeed, the Council of One Hundred deliberated so long and so carefully on that plan that it is considered infallible. There is, however, a slight wrinkle.

  “A clan member has turned treasonous and informed the Plaguers of our intentions. They know of the coming attack.”

  Enon’s antlers pressed back along the sides of his silver scalp in an expression of surprise. Adaiz’s human face mimicked this expression, which resulted in a drawing back of the muscles around his ears.

  “We still do not know the reason our spy did this,” the center Lucien continued. “Such a thing has never happened before. Still, the fact remains that the Plaguers know of our plans. Their response to this knowledge has been odd. Another of our spies informs us that, in addition to building shelters deep underground and attempting to create space-based defense systems, they are mounting an unusual mission.” The Triad member on the left reached forward to a small set of controls. On the wall behind the Triad, a map sprang up, projected by lasers. It was a star map, and on it Enon and Adaiz could see their own star system and another.

  “They are sending a ship to this system, eight light-years away,” the central Triad member said. “There, they will retrieve a technology from their distant past.” He continued to tell what little they knew of the Eschless Funnel. This little was nonetheless impressive. Current Lucien science did not even admit of the possibility that faster-than-light travel was possible. “If the Plaguers are convinced that this technology exists and are willing to spend their precious few resources to mount such a mission,” he continued, “there must be some substance behind this improbable claim.”

  Enon and Adaiz stood silently, taking in the words of the Triad, trying to hide their own excitement.

  “Considering this information, we now have two objectives to accomplish before our deadline arrives and we rid this universe of the Plaguers. First, if the technology behind the Eschless Funnel is valid, we must possess it for ourselves. Such technology would secure our future forever. It would open the door to Lucien rule of not just our star system but of the universe itself.

  “Second, we must prevent the Plaguers from ever regaining this technology. With it, they could surely build weapons and ships that would allow them to defeat us, even in the limited time they have left.

  “To achieve both of these objectives, we have selected you, Leader Enon-Amet and Officer Adaiz-Ari, for the honorable mission of following the Plaguer ship to its destination.”

  Adaiz felt his heart leap. What honor they would bring to their family, to their clan, and to their race. If this technology was real and they succeeded in capturing it, they would secure a future for the Lucien greater than any he had ever dreamed possible.

  That audience with the Triad was now a decade and a half gone.

  Now, removed from that day by both time and enormous spans of distance, Mission Officer Adaiz-Ari stood in the semi-darkness of the cramped Lucien ship and watched the winking lights of the main control panel. All was well with the ship’s systems, and beautiful Galea was light-years away.

  He picked his way carefully around the perimeter of the tiny one-room craft, glancing at other control panels set into the smooth, curved metal walls. The controls were beautiful in their industrial simplicity: banks of readouts and small indicator lights cased in metal plates, which were, in turn, cased in the metal of the walls.

  He ran a hand over the bank that controlled the sleepboxes. The skin of his hand, he noticed, was now light brown, with a yellow undertone. So long away from sunlight, even if the time were spent in a sleepbox, was unhealthy. He ran his hand over his bare chest, noting that the skin there was faded and his ribs were beginning to show.

  The air smelled stale. Adaiz rechecked the air filters and found them functioning properly. The ship air was reading in a normal, healthy range. He mused that a computer, however, could not appreciate the subtleties of taste inherent in a living organism. Simply because the air was breathable, one could not assume that the air was pleasant. Ah well, few missions were intended for this long a period.

  He moved to the sleepboxes and looked in through the thick plastic at his older brother and crewmate Enon. The two of them woke by turns, twice a year. Six months ago it had been Enon who was awake, checking on the ship and on the sleeping form of Adaiz.

  Adaiz was concerned with Enon’s pallor as he watched his sleeping body within the box. His skin had become a dull gray, no longer reflective at all. He wondered about the long-term health effects of this journey on both of them. Certainly so many years spent in deepsleep were not beneficial. But it did not matter. The mission was their duty, and they were honored to carry it out, whatever the personal cost. Their own lives amounted to little. Their physical bodies and the decades of this mission were merely the passing of dust in space. There would be other lifetimes.

  Ahead of them, in the cold blackness of space, the Plaguer ship was barreling on toward its destination, and they were following. It would be only a few more years until they both arrived.

  In a few hours Adaiz would return to his own sleepbox. Now, however, it was time to clear his mind and reaffirm his place in the scheme of the universe. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs.

  From a pocket in his trousers, he pulled out a small book with a braided leather cover and filament-thin pages written upon in calligraphy. This was his copy of the Katalla-Oman, the Lucien book of self-knowledge. The Katalla-Oman had been handed down to their race in the distant past, it was said, by Omani himself, the god of wisdom and unity.

  Adaiz gently flipped it open and read aloud his favorite chant. He had known it by heart since childhood, but the feel of the book in his hands and the timbre of his voice when he was reading aloud were pleasing.

  I, Adaiz-Ari, of Warrior Clan and Clan Providence

  Am awareness

  Am light

  Am a point of knowing

  With closed eyes, I can yet see

  Apart from body

  Apart from the asteroids which are my home

  Apart from sun and stars

  The universe exists

  It surrounds me

  It passes through me

  But still I am

  Awareness

  Light

  A point of knowing

  As he spoke the final words, he could feel their meaning. His body faded. The ship faded. He could feel himself as a point of awareness. Time did not matter; space did not matter. The whole of the universe was his. He existed. He knew. He was.

  CHAPTER 4

  One Year Ago

  Harris Edward DeLacy III, or “Eddie,” as he was known to everyone except lawyers, was doing sun salutations on a yoga mat in his bedroom. He relished the feeling of his muscles as he exercised. He worked hard to keep himself lean and strong with yoga, jogging, and occasional classes in martial arts. It was the only thing he worked hard at. It was the middle of the afternoon in Los Angeles, and there was bright sunlight streaming in from outside.

  He could hear Callen in the bathroom, just getting out of the shower.

  “Where are the extra towels?” she called, her voice carrying through the closed bathroom door.

  Eddie was holding downward dog, the final positi
on of the exercise. “In the cupboard under the sink!” he called back.

  He held the position for five breaths, then came out of the stretch and sat down on the mat. Callen appeared with a towel wrapped around her. They had spent an hour together in bed, and she always took a shower after making love. Eddie would soon shower too, but for the moment, he was savoring the feeling of his body after being with her. She slept with him so little these days. It was no longer like it had been in college, or even in high school, when they had drawn each other into brief, passionate affairs between other relationships. Eddie was afraid that she was finally outgrowing him.

  “Come here,” he said, taking her hand.

  She complied willingly, settling into his lap and kissing him. He kissed her back for longer than she was expecting. She put her hands on his shoulders and withdrew from him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What does it look like?”

  “I have to go, Eddie.” She stood up and started collecting her clothes. “We really should stop doing this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s too easy to fall back into being together.” She was pulling on her underwear. She was quite pretty. Though her body was perpetually ten pounds overweight, the weight did not look bad on her; it added to the curves of her chest and waist. Eddie had always loved her body and loved making love to her. “We both know we’re not going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

  “We do?” But he knew it was true.

  Eddie’s father, Harris Edward DeLacy, Jr., was the chief executive of Bannon-DeLacy, the aerospace firm founded in 1912 by Harris Edward DeLacy, Sr., precient engineer and businessman. Callen was Callen St. John, whose father was the chairman of Bannon-DeLacy. She and Eddie had grown up together, had shared each other’s amazement that the families they had been born into were so different from the ones they would have imagined for themselves.

  She pulled on her jeans and her shirt and looked around for her socks.

  “They’re on the chair,” he said, smiling because she always forgot where she left her clothes.

  She didn’t move to get them. Instead, she came back over to him and took a seat on the mat. “I do love you, Eddie.”

  “I love you too. You know that.”

  “Yeah.” She slid her arms over his shoulders. “But it’s not that kind of love, is it? You could be my brother.”

  He hugged her and shifted her body so she was lying down across his legs. She looked up at him. He had shaved that morning, and his face was smooth. He had brown hair that was slightly curly, and it was unkempt just now, as it often was. He was good looking, but she knew that he was careless about such things. He said, “Then I think what we did this afternoon is illegal in most states.”

  “You know what I mean. We’re thirty-two now. I have to figure out what I’m doing with my life.”

  “You’re outgrowing me,” he said quietly, running a hand through her hair.

  “Maybe,” she agreed. She took hold of his chin between her thumb and forefinger and lightly shook his face. “It’s just…I can never find the center of you, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I have that problem too.”

  She used his arm to pull herself up to a sitting position. “I really have to go. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.” She worked for an advertising agency. Her brilliance as a writer went into ad campaigns to sell cars and soft drinks and feminine hygiene products. But she didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t need the money, but enjoyed her job and enjoyed Los Angeles. He admired that without understanding it.

  He watched her get up and put her socks and shoes on. “Okay,” he said, after a long pause.

  “Okay, what?”

  He put his hands on the mat behind him and leaned back into them. “Just okay.”

  She smiled at him, understanding. It was okay with him that she didn’t want to sleep with him anymore. He was still her friend and would always be her friend. She nodded.

  “I think I’ll go back to Egypt,” he said after a few moments. He said it just as though he were proposing a trip down the block to get a cup of coffee. It was his way. Everything was casual.

  “Did your father reinstate your allowance?” she asked with a hint of mischievousness.

  “I don’t have to depend on him,” Eddie said with mock pride. “My mother takes pity on me from time to time. Behind his back, she sends me money when she worries I might be starving. If she won’t pay for a trip, I could always sell my car.”

  “Right. Who needs a car in LA, anyway?”

  He smiled at this, but he was already daydreaming about his trip. “I’ve always thought the center of me was somewhere over there.”

  “If there is a center of you.” She was dressed now. She came over and kissed him on the forehead.

  “That’s all I get?” he said petulantly.

  She patted him affectionately on the cheek. “Might as well start now.” She glanced at her watch. “Good-bye, Eddie. Love you.”

  “Me too.”

  She walked out of the room, and a moment later, he heard the front door open and shut behind her. Then there was the engine of her car as it pulled out of his driveway and slowly faded away.

  He sat where he was for a few moments; then he moved onto his knees and started his yoga routine again. He was thinking of Egypt.

  CHAPTER 5

  2607 BC

  Year 0 of Kinley Earth Survey

  In my vision I saw a storm-wind coming from the north, a vast cloud with flashes of fire and brilliant light about it; and within was a radiance like brass, glowing in the heart of the flames.

  —Ezekiel 1:4

  The Engineer walked the brightly lit catwalk that encircled the engine room below. He could look from this raised height down into the central control space for the ship’s great drives. Down there were eight stations, each one manned at this moment, for the ship was preparing to shift phases.

  He carried an opaque clipboard propped between his chest and hand. He was marking on it with a stylus. This catwalk was one of the observation points on his comprehensive checklist. He wore a one-piece uniform of white material, with a name tag on the breast which read simply “Engineer.” It had been their pact, on embarking, to give up the names of their old life and take new ones for this historic trip. Thus, each member of the crew was called by whatever job he or she did.

  On his chest, next to his name, was a stylized representation of the ship’s famous engine. The Engineer loved that picture.

  Below were his junior engineers, each doing their own checklists to ensure their areas of supervision were in perfect operating order. The Second Engineer, or “Second,” as he was known, was busy disassembling a set of flow pipes. The Engineer watched Second’s actions and smiled. The man was good.

  He made a full circuit of the catwalk and then stepped over the side, into a heavy air chute that floated him down to the main floor. Here he examined the work in more detail. He stood over Second as the man carefully catalogued the state of each piece he removed, then set them down into neat rows of crystalline parts on a sticky pad on the floor behind him, safely waiting to be reassembled.

  “How’s it going, Second?” the Engineer asked.

  The man looked up only after noting down the piece in his hand and ensuring it was secured on the floor pad. “Very well, sir,” the man replied. “Slight wear on a few parts, but well within our projections. You’ll have my report within the hour.”

  “Excellent.” He moved to the Third Engineer, and then the Regulator and the Powerhouse Controller, and the other four men. All reported the status of their areas. The Engineer made the proper notations on his clipboard, then launched himself back up onto the catwalk. From there, he moved to a sealed doorway, recognizable because it was more translucent than the creamy-white walls surrounding it. He touched the door with his palm and it retracted, the seams forming around the edges as it separated, then noiselessly slid aside. He stepped
into the corridor beyond, and the door melted back into place behind him.

  He wore thin boots, which made very little noise, even while walking over the slip-proof ridged surface of the hallway. He loved the silence of his tread. It allowed him to listen only to the ship. The noises of the ship itself were faint, but the Engineer’s ear was tuned to every nuance. There was a steady hum, just below audible range, a hum he could feel in his teeth and bones. It was not jarring, only soothing. There was no rhythm to it, for its hum was too consistent. It was the sound, the Engineer thought, of pure power.

  The ship was called the Champion, and she was his child. He did not invent the principles of her engine drives, that leap of engineering known as the Eschless Funnel. No, that incredible feat had been accomplished by another, by a man named Eschless, who had lived two generations before the Engineer’s birth. But Eschless had only written the theory of such an engine. Not until now, not until this ship, had man ever put the theory into true application.

  Before Eschless, the Kinley had believed that nothing could move faster than particles of light. Indeed, it had been proved again and again, over centuries, that it was not possible to accelerate an object to light speed. Yet, Eschless, like a few men before him in the history of their race, had unwound what was known, unraveled the universe, then tied it up again in a new shape. Of course, the beauty of it was that the shape was not new at all. It was the old shape, the shape the universe had always had, but none before Eschless had ever been able to see it that way.

  And now, mere decades later, the Engineer was walking the corridors of the first Eschless Funnel ship, a ship he had designed and built. The secret lay in the probability drives, which sat at the ship’s core. There was no more difficult field of mathematics to master than probabilities at the quantum level. It was a chaotic realm, where nothing was stationary and you could never know the specifics of anything with total precision. But that did not matter, it turned out. You did not have to know the exact location of an electron at a particular moment, nor its energy, nor its speed. You only had to know that all of these things fluctuated wildly and could be anywhere within an almost infinite range of numbers at any one time.