The Tau Ceti Diversion

by Chris McMahon

  Karic had stored armfuls of heavy-duty data-disks in the commander’s cabin, each crammed with information they had retrieved from the surface of the planet. They contained everything they knew about Cru: every instrument reading, each image and radio message, recordings of voice journals, and personal notes by Janzen and Karic. They had traveled over a hundred light-years and lost thirty-four lives in order to win this knowledge. It was priceless. Despite the apparent lack of any device planted on board the ship by the Fintil, he was taking no chances.

  They had placed the data-disks in the commander’s personal safe, a heavily shielded metal storage device fashioned from toughened armor. It was completely sealed from the ship and had its own power supply. Even if the Starburst was destroyed, and all the Shipcom’s memory with it, this would survive. Only Karic knew the numerical code that would release the shield that protected it.

  Karic checked the safe. Satisfied, he turned to Mara. “So what do you want to say?”

  Their eyes touched.

  “It’s not what I want to say. I’m just sick of being afraid. I want to do it,” said Mara. “I want to mind-bond with you. This time with no barriers.”

  Karic’s heart raced. He reached for the fugue state and waited for her. Mara concentrated, but nothing happened. She screwed up her face in frustration. “It seems to be getting harder.”

  Karic reached across to her mind. With a shock, he realized it was once more dormant, like Andrai’s. Somehow the presence of the Fintil — and their mental contact — had stimulated her mind while on Cru. Now it had grown quiet. Maybe she had closed the doors to her latent abilities herself. That did not matter now. He could supply the energy for both of them. He reached into the dormant, dreaming parts of her mind and poured that power into her, desperate to make contact. He had to know. Had to know her fully, at least once.

  Her mind surged, swelled outward.

  Karic gasped as their spirits met like two titanic walls of water, merging into one turbulent mass. Their minds lay open and unguarded. Thoughts and images swirled around them like pools of color. Karic watched Mara’s mind, listening like a thief to her darkest thoughts. At last he understood her guilt, her pain — and the need to end it for good. At the same time, he could feel her reaching into his own mind, searching.

  A sudden pain lanced through his temples. He could not keep this up. And now there was no point. The corpse of their love was long decayed.

  Karic withdrew the mind-bond.

  Despite the pain, a sense of lightness filled him and true freedom beaconed. At last he could let her go. At last he knew.

  After coming to the edge of human space, his bond to humanity was stronger than ever. Yet, in another way, he was alone. There was no one standing behind him. No supporting hand on his shoulder. He had to find the strength to carry on inside himself.

  Mara held Karic’s gaze, ready for any recrimination.

  “Thank you, Mara. Thank you.”

  “I loved you Karic, desperately. But our moments were always hidden things. At first that was the way I wanted it. Then it seemed you were ashamed of me. Touring off with Evelle. I thought you would go back to her.”

  “I never would have left you.”

  “I know,” said Mara, bitterly. “I know that now.” She had misjudged Karic badly, but it was too late.

  “The truth is, Mara, I loved you both, in different ways. But you were my lover. It was over with Evelle. That tour was just something I had to do. I could not risk losing the Starburst.”

  “Instead you lost me,” she said.

  Karic bowed his head for a moment.

  Mara felt a growth of joy in her: the relief of a heavy sadness expunged. Despite the sense of invasion, she realized that without this unwitting contact of minds — the brief moment of total knowledge and abandon — her feelings of bitterness and rejection would always have remained with her. Now she knew the truth, without a doubt, and that dark knot of twisted emotion was simply gone. Mara wiped the tears from her eyes. Was the human race ready for honesty this profound? What would this remarkable gift bring to Earth?

  “Let’s put it behind us. All I want to do is return to Earth. To smell the wind and feel the Sun, our Sun, on my skin,” she said. “I don’t ever want to leave Earth again.”

  “I can’t wait to return either, Mara, but what I really long to see are the advances. We will have been gone almost a hundred and sixty years. Just think of the technology we could command! The starships! Just imagine if they have broken the light barrier?

  “I long to see more of the cosmos. My time on Cru, as threatening and terrifying as it was, has only increased my determination to explore space.

  “The Fintil were advanced, and they looked at the Starburst with contempt. But we did it, Mara. We have journeyed through the empty spaces, seen another world and communicated with the sentient alien life it supported.” Karic grew thoughtful. “The Fintil were ill-suited as friends of humanity, but there must be other races in the stars, other living worlds waiting for us, other wonders to discover.”

  Mara frowned. “Do you really believe we belong out here after all you’ve seen? Weren’t the lessons we learnt on Cru enough?”

  Karic grew serious. “The Fintil are an ancient and arrogant race. Their knowledge was tainted with their own sense of superiority.”

  “We do not belong in space!”

  Karic was silenced by her anger.

  “We were aliens on Cru, in every sense of the word. Believe me, Karic, I know. Humans will never thrive on any world that does not have our sun, our moon, our sky.”

  Karic turned away briefly, then met her gaze with sad, yet resigned intensity. “The human race cannot continue to cram into the concrete cities of Earth, Mara. We have always needed new frontiers, always needed to grow beyond our limits. We need new worlds. Before we die and fade to nothing.”

  They stood in a silence filled with jagged edges.

  The voice of the Shipcom startled them both. “The suspension equipment is on standby,” said the computer. “Do you wish me to switch it off for you, Commander?”

  “No. The remaining crew will be entering suspension shortly.”

  “Understood, Commander.”

  They moved in silence to the accessway, then up the narrow tube to the darkened central hold. They followed each other through the zero-g of the hold with practiced movements, finally reaching the lander. Inside, Karic helped Mara position herself on the makeshift couch, which cushioned and partially encapsulated their bodies while they were under the influence of the field. He watched as the cloud of energy grew thick like smoke around her, and her guarded expression froze in place.

  Karic lay on his couch and let his body relax into the contours. His finger hesitated over the button that would send him toward the unknown future. His mind was in turmoil; and it seemed he could not bear to silence such an angry multitude of inner voices.

  Karic honestly believed mankind had a destiny, and that it lay somewhere in the depths of space. Something had always drawn him out beyond the static revolutions of the worlds he knew, both the scientific and the corporeal; and he would continue to search until he found that destiny, as elusive as it may seem. His years spent developing the suspension field, working always against the derision of his colleagues, were simply a means to an end. And what were the Fintil’s warnings anyway, if not simply the paranoia of an aging culture on the verge of collapse? Nothing would keep him from the stars. Nothing.

  Karic felt a wave a tiredness wash through him. He settled deeper into the couch and let a warm, pleasurable feeling of relaxation take him. Before he could stop himself, or trigger the suspension field, he had drifted into sleep.

  Karic dreamt of Cru.

  He soared across the skies of the planet on wings of spirit, sent forth by the same winds that spawned the Fintil. He passed the terminator and reached the bright side, racing from each shining, jeweled city to the next. As he flew onward, he saw the golden Fintil bus
y at their tasks. They were rebuilding their future. The Fintil scientists with their large, purple-crowned, dome-shaped heads, were busy learning and extending their ancient technology, others worked as craftsmen, some — perhaps destined to be Old Ones like the Fountain — cloistered within the great libraries of their race, seeking knowledge, expanding their minds and their thinking, preparing to lead the race into a new era.

  Of the Fountain, he saw nothing.

  In time, he approached the greatest of the cities. He flashed through the brightly hued walls as though they were made of gas, led onward by instinct until he came to a circular chamber. High arches formed a dome high above him, while slender windows of exquisite design flooded the space with Tau Ceti’s bright light.

  Here lay the Fintil Queen.

  She was attended by ranks of Fintil, while councilors and artisans waited patiently in the verges of the room for an audience. Unlike the queens of the insect world, she did not give forth an endless stream of eggs. It seemed the time for her to give birth was still distant. The room was flanked by ranks of the tall, austere warrior caste, their narrow angular heads, armored thorax and abdomens colored a vibrant, threatening red.

  She had lost none of her elegance and frightening power.

  Utar was at her side, overseeing the myriad minor matters that came to the attention of the Queen’s court.

  Karic let himself drift down toward the Queen and Utar. He examined them with great curiosity, wondering how these shining, sophisticated, metallic beings could have been birthed from the simplistic Imbirri. As Karic approached, Utar looked up suddenly from the glowing device in his hands. He met the human’s eyes with an intense, yet unreadable expression. Karic felt the touch of the Fintil’s mind on his own. He also sensed the awesome power of the Queen’s mind, now focused elsewhere.

  “The curiosity of your race will be its end, human,” spoke Utar to Karic’s mind. “How you found us here is beyond me. And I warn you — if the Queen should know of your presence … forces would be unleashed against your world that your race could not hope to resist.

  “Flee! Before my duty compels me.”

  Karic felt safe, convinced the scene was a dream and not truly real. “I will leave you, Utar, but tell me before I go, is mankind forever doomed to disaster as we reach outward to the vastness that surrounds us? Surely there is a place for us somewhere in the depths of space?”

  Utar spoke to his aides in a rapid staccato. He excused himself from the presence of the Queen, then walked casually toward the less populated regions of the expansive chamber, feigning tiredness. Karic followed him. At last free from company, Utar turned toward the human. Some of his fierceness had gone.

  “Karic, what can I truly say to you? There are worlds for you, and yet you will not reach them before disaster strikes your race. The basic precepts by which you reach outward are flawed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have said enough. It’s forbidden.”

  Karic was enraged. How dare this specter speak to him of forbidden truth! Mankind was destined to know all truths! Karic had been taught by his own mentors in science and engineering that nothing should be hidden from the inquiring mind, and he believed this. It defined who he was.

  “If you know, what gives you the right to withhold the knowledge from us?” asked Karic.

  Utar grew angry once more, turning his huge, glittering eyes on Karic. His body stiffened as if to take flight … or strike out.

  “What do I know of Truth? I foresaw a new beginning for our race, and my prophecy was borne out, yet now …” Utar relaxed his posture. “Now I am only one of the many. Once I was the Deepwatch, now I am one of the subservient mates of the Queen, bound to take the place of the Fountain when he finally expires, which will be all too soon. I envy your freedom.”

  “Utar, you are one of the leaders of an advanced race. You have access to knowledge and a high technology. The universe is yours to explore as you will. Lead the Fintil beyond Cru. Reach outward!”

  Karic felt Utar’s sadness. “Once we were changeless, Karic … lost in innocence. There was only the joy of Union, the magic of song — the Elixir. Now, time presses on me.

  “The jungles in which we wandered for so long seem cold to me, now. So cold,” said Utar sadly.

  “The others?”

  “Only the Awakener has the memories, and she chooses to forget.”

  Karic was frustrated. If only he could take a fraction of the knowledge these beings possessed, or gain the merest words of guidance from them, then the mysteries of space would yield to him.

  “Surely there is something you can tell me? Anything. What path to take? Where to search?”

  Utar raised his wings in fury, almost leaping into the air.

  “Be gone!”

  A mental wave hit Karic like a physical blow. The golden light of the chamber vanished and he was swallowed by darkness.

  Karic awoke to the voice of the Shipcom.

  “… been asleep for one hour, Commander. Do you wish to return to your cabin for an adequate rest period, or enter suspension with the other two crew members?”

  Karic shook his head, feeling a savage pain behind his eyes. He rubbed his temples. “No. I will enter suspension now.”

  “Would you like me to activate the field for you, Commander?”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Karic, depressing the time-delay button with a savage stab of his finger.

  As the field drew around him, and his final thoughts began to slow, it occurred to him what a remarkable gift they had gained. No matter where in the cosmos they roamed, with the ability to communicate from mind-to-mind, the barriers of language need never prevent them from meaningful contact and dialogue with an alien species. They would know each other fully, in moments.

  Understanding would be quickly attained.

  Conflict would be instantaneous and violent …

  ***

  As Karic was drawn finally into stillness, a glowing sphere appeared in the air above his suspension couch. It hovered close to his inert body for a time, then sped toward each of the others in turn, finally settling to a distant corner of the room, unnoticed by the Shipcom or the ship’s sensors. It drew what little energy it needed from the surrounding lights and electrical systems. Its patience was unlimited. It had waited for almost ten thousand years as the Fintil slumbered in the guise of the Imbirri. It spun slower as it entered its own kind of slumber, alone with its alien thoughts.

  And the Starburst sped on through space, toward Earth.

  CHAPTER 24

  Karic felt a touch on his arm. An urgent voice spoke in the distance. He rose from the depths, finally breaking through the dullness to see Mara above him.

  “Karic!” Her face was flushed with excitement. Andrai was at her side, filled with the same reckless energy. “Earth, Karic. We’ve made it back!”

  They had taken shifts together on the way back to Earth. Memories of the last time they had spoken, seemingly only days ago, were sharp in his mind, and his heart softened to see Mara so filled with unrestrained joy.

  Still a little disoriented from the revival process, he pushed himself off the couch with too much force and sailed up toward the lander’s padded ceiling. Mara and Andrai grabbed his arms to steady him. Both seemed to have been alert for some time. In accordance with his standing orders, Janzen remained in stasis.

  “We have Earth on the viewscreen, Commander,” said Andrai.

  Karic was annoyed that his two crew had roused before him. “How long have we been out of suspension?” he asked sharply.

  “Suspension fields cut forty-seven minutes ago, boss,” said Andrai. “We were roused right after the deflectors powered down. You were in such a heavy sleep we thought it best to leave you to wake naturally.”

  Karic grunted. “Magnetic braking: was it successful?”

  “Went like a charm,” said Andrai. “We are on track for Earth orbit.”

  Karic stretched, the mov
ement causing him to drift up into the air though the zero-g. He took hold of the side of the couch to stabilize himself.

  “Don’t you think it’s time Janzen was revived?” said Mara, the thin line of a crease appearing on her forehead.

  Karic looked over at Janzen, still clothed in the same ExploreCorp field gear he had been wearing during the lander descent, now stained with blood and sweat. The damage he had caused. The lives he had cost. Karic took a deep breath. Mara was right. It was time to rouse him. Soon, he could be handed over to Earth authorities for trial.

  “You’re right. Shipcom, bring Janzen out of suspension. Notify me when he is ten minutes from emergence.”

  “Confirmed.”

  He forced himself into action, pushing across the chamber to lander’s hatch. “Are we receiving the beacon from the ExploreCorp station?”

  “No, not yet,” said Andrai.

  Based on the last transmissions they had received — on arrival at Tau Ceti — ExploreCorp had dropped their fleet and headquarters right back into low Earth orbit, abandoning their stations in the Lagrange fields — but that news was eighty years out of date.

  “Anything from Earth at all?” said Karic.

  “Negative,” said Andrai, his light gray eyes shadowed with concern.

  They had been broadcasting all the way back from Tau Ceti, but had received nothing from Earth. At first Karic had assumed it was a targeting error, or a fault with their jury-rigged equipment. But he and Andrai had both checked the transmitter and receiving arrays. There was nothing wrong with the gear.

  As they drew closer to Earth, Karic’s unease had grown.

  Earth should have been receiving their transmissions and Starburst should have been getting a well-targeted response … but they were not. Perhaps there was some sort of interference outside the ship, disrupting the signal or deflecting it. But what could do that? In their last shifts, Mara had concentrated on finding any rogue astronomical bodies in their path big enough to have a gravity lensing effect, but had come up with nothing.