by S. L. Viehl
“It was an experimental prototype,” I assured him. “That’s probably why it malfunctioned.”
“As you say.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but the lines around his nose and mouth eased a fraction. “I will ask one more question: Do either of you mean to do harm here?”
“I’m a physician and my husband is a linguist.” I smiled at Reever. “We’ve taken vows to do no harm.”
He nodded. “Then you are welcome.”
That night, in the quarters the Torin had given us, Reever and I sat together at a terminal scanning history files. Many of the events from our past were still recorded, but many of the details and outcomes had changed.
After humans discovered they were not alone in the universe, Terra had struggled with an ugly period of rampant xenophobia. This time, however, some wiser souls had instigated a social revolution to address the problem. Tentative contact with offworlders was made, first to prove they were not a threat to humans, and then to find out exactly what they were. As the benefits of becoming part of a much larger intergalactic community became apparent, the governments of my homeworld actively encouraged interspecies events and enterprises.
The humanoid and reptilian species had still clashed on occasion, especially over the practices of enslavement and free colonization, but many of the massacres and wars had been prevented—by, of all species, the Hsktskt and the Terrans, who had somehow become partners in diplomacy.
“I can’t believe they’re running around the quadrants settling territorial disputes and disbanding slaver depots,” I muttered. “The Hsktskt hate humanoids. Dear God, the Hsktskt used to eat humanoids.”
“TssVar remains Hanar,” Duncan said as he scrolled through another file. “He rose through the ranks by his work creating slaver-reformation programs and establishing reptilian-humanoid trade cooperatives. The arenas never came into being.”
I thought of all the suffering Reever had experienced as an arena slave. “Good riddance. Are Squilyp or ChoVa still around?”
“The Omorr practices as a surgeon on his homeworld, and lives with his mate and their twin sons,” Reever said. “TssVar’s eldest daughter is now named UtessVa, and recently was mated to a Hsktskt who looks remarkably like PyrsVar after he was changed.” He read a little more. “TssVar began his career in the militia as a slave liberator,” he added. “He saw to it that freed slaves were given sanctuary on Vtaga until they could be returned to their homeworlds.”
“The universe always corrects itself. He took your place.” I grinned. “Maybe that’s why you two always liked one another.” I saw a strange expression come over his face, and touched his arm. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Kao Torin lives.” He turned the monitor toward me. “So does his bondmate, a former Akkabarran physician named Jarn.”
I looked at the image of the happy couple, taken during their bonding ceremony. Kao smiled down at his Choice, a lovely female with pale skin, light brown hair, and dark eyes. She was very attractive, but she didn’t look a thing like me.
At first I wasn’t sure what to say, and then I did. “I’m glad they found each other. How about you?”
He pulled me onto his lap. “I have my woman.”
My first search had been through Terran census records, but I hadn’t found any listing for Joseph Grey Veil, his daughter Cherijo, or her husband, Duncan Reever.
I leaned back against Reever’s shoulder. “I wish I knew what happened to us.”
“You were never born,” a familiar voice said.
I stood up and turned around to see Shon Valtas standing just inside the door panel. “I secured that panel.”
“You’re still using the same codes you did before the time shift,” he chided. “We weren’t sure if you would be coming back, but when I heard a rumor about two Terrans suddenly appearing out of nowhere, I thought it might be you.”
“You know where we’ve been,” I said cautiously.
“Yes. All of us do.” He turned and opened the door panel, and several beings entered: a crossbreed ’Zangian, a Jorenian whose skin was covered in a layer of crystal, and others I’d never seen.
Shon introduced the others by name before he said, “Like you, we were unaffected by the time shift. Our memories of the past are unaltered.”
“So you remember the war between the League and the Hsktskt?”
“That, and the Core plague on K-2, the destruction of Skart, the rebellion on Akkabarr, and the attack on Trellus,” Jadaira Rask said. “Although we soon found out that none of them occurred in this new universe.”
“Maggie once told me that we were created to exist outside the timeline.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “Does anyone know about us and what we are?”
“Happily, no,” Renor, the crystalline crossbreed, said. “Nor have we revealed ourselves to anyone.”
“After witnessing the changes in reality, we thought it best to remain silent and observe,” the Tingalean added in its soft, hissing voice. “You and your bondmate were successful, Healer Grey Veil. The Jxin did not separate their species or attempt to ascend.”
I looked at Shon. “So the black crystal was never created.”
“No. The Jxin are gone now, but before their species died out, they became space explorers, and colonized over seven hundred worlds. They caused life on those worlds to evolve, and spread to others, and eventually founded every sentient species known to us.”
Renor came forward and held out an etched crystal disc. “This was discovered in the ruins on Jxinok centuries ago, and since has been preserved in a museum of curiosities on my sire’s homeworld. When I saw the mark on it, I knew it was for you, and so I . . . borrowed it.”
The mark on the crystal was simple: three parallel lines, one golden, one black, and one silver. I carefully inserted the disc into the computer and opened it.
The image of a Jxin male who looked a little like my creator appeared on the screen. He began speaking in an ancient dialect.
“We send this prayer of gratitude to the healer of all things,” Reever translated out loud. “The one who brought great wisdom to our people thousands of years ago. We are the last generation of the Jxin, and we would have you know that we have kept the promise made to you. We hope that you have made safe passage, and that you will always watch over our children among the stars.”
The man who might have been Joseph bowed, smiled, and then disappeared from the screen.
I didn’t know quite what to make of it. It had taken hundreds of thousands of years for the Jxin to reach the end of their species’ existence. To think that they had passed along our warning for so many generations . . . “I didn’t think they’d give up ascension to save the future.”
“You gave up your future to save the Jxin,” Jadaira said. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.”
Maybe it would be, in a couple thousand years, when I got over the loss of my child. Because Reever and I had not been born in this timeline, neither had Marel. We couldn’t risk trying to have another child, either, not with the genetic curses we carried.
But there were plenty of orphans in the universe who needed parents, for when we were ready to start a family again. I looked at Shon. “We should talk about where we go from here.”
There wasn’t a lot of debate during the discussion that followed. Because time no longer affected us, and eternal life would still attract mortals who wanted it for themselves, we would have to be careful not to draw too much attention to ourselves. That meant living simply and blending in with surrounding populations. We could all simulate aging, but we couldn’t settle in one place for longer than a few decades.
“We should establish our own colony,” Renor Kalea suggested. “A place where we can gather or take sanctuary when necessary. Perhaps on a world that would be inhospitable or unattractive to mortals.”
“I suggest oKia,” Shon said.
“Last time I checked, oKia had a native population of a couple million,” I reminded him.
&n
bsp; “You have been gone for several million years,” he countered. “Protocrystal drove my people from our world at the turn of the last century. They convinced the Skartesh to relocate with them to one of Kevarzangia Two’s moons. To date, oKia, Skart, and the entire solar system remain uninhabited.”
“The protocrystal cannot harm us,” Reever said thoughtfully, “and since her last transformation, Cherijo has the ability to communicate with and control it.”
I never wanted to see another form of crystal for as long as I lived, much less reside among evolving, intelligent pools of it. Then something occurred to me. “Was the protocrystal affected by the time shift? Or is it still eating oKia?”
“It was somewhat altered. Now it merely tries to absorb other intelligent life into its matrix,” Shon said. “Since the Great Exodus, that part of space has been quarantined by the Allied Faction. All trade routes have been abandoned, and even the worst of slavers and mercenaries avoid it.”
The Allied Faction. I was never going to get used to hearing that. “Then if it’s still willing to listen to me, I think I can work out some living arrangements.”
“We will still need a mission,” Jadaira said. “Immortality without purpose would be torture, I think. I would rather fly my strafer into the nearest star than spend eternity adrift among the living.”
“We won’t be drifting,” I assured her. “The Jxin are not the only species who will ever discover or take a shot at ascension. Not now that their DNA is a part of every intelligent race in existence.”
Shon seemed surprised. “So you believe our mission should be to suppress such evolution?”
“We could stop them, but I think we can accomplish more by guiding them,” I replied. “We watch, we check, and when someone goes astray, we help them find their way back to sanity. We’ve got the rest of eternity. It’ll probably take that long.”
The Tingalean’s eyes gleamed. “And if they choose to ignore our guidance?”
Reever answered him. “Then we stop them by any means necessary.”
We all agreed to meet in a few days to solidify our plans and make arrangements to discreetly sojourn together to oKia. Then everyone left except Shon, who stayed behind to discuss the current status of several troublesome races, including the Toskald, who had abandoned their homeworld but had chosen ship life over settlement, and were now existing as pirates on the fringe of colonized space.
After figuring out how to work the prep unit, which was stocked with a bewildering variety of Jorenian and offworlder dishes, I prepared a meal for the men and then excused myself.
“Where are you going?” Reever wanted to know.
“I thought I’d take a walk and check out the settlement.” I bent down and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Beyond the settlement, Joren’s moons arced above the horizon, a floating giant’s neck ornament of light and dark pearls. The moonslight glided along the streets with me, illuminating the faces of the settlers and merchants I passed. Most were happy, some appeared preoccupied, and a few scowled at everyone and everything in their path.
I saw so many odd pairings and groups it was difficult not to gape. A pair of Hsktskt and Jorenian males stood by a screen display of the latest agri equipment and gestured while they discussed seasonal planting. Warriors turned farmers.
A trio of young Terran girls giggled as they glanced back at three boys trailing after them: one lean, tough Omorr, one healthy-looking Taercal, and a sound-shielded P’Kotman. All the adolescents alternated between whispering to their friends and casting flirtatious looks at the other group. Young courtship, it seemed, would never change.
Time had crossed more than a few barriers, I thought as I saw aquatics socializing with desert dwellers, and avatars mixing with miners. I stopped counting the Jorenian and offworlder crossbreeds I spotted; they were everywhere. Although Shon had told us there were still disputes and skirmishes between some species, it seemed intelligent life had decided to be more intelligent.
Balance, it was a beautiful thing.
I didn’t know where I was going, but something guided me through the settlement. It had begun tugging at me as soon as we came down the hill, and now it wrapped around me and through me like a suture, closing up a wound I couldn’t see or feel. If Maggie had still existed, I would have blamed her for it. But this was something far more primal, and it was coming from inside me and beyond me at the same time.
I found myself standing in front of a multilevel gallery designed completely out of plas. The lighting had been dimmed for the night, but inside I could still see a series of sculptures. They were all hewn from green, blue, and violet stone, and depicted figures from Jorenian history. Tarek Varena I recognized from the features, not the pose; he was sculpted alongside a lovely and very pregnant female. While I was glad to see that Tarek’s sad fate had somehow been averted, the loss of my own friends and loved ones cut into me like a cold blade.
“Your pardon, lady.”
I turned to discover Darea Torin standing just behind me. Just before I spoke, I remembered that in this timeline she had no memory of our friendship or kinship. “Can I help you?”
“My bondmate and I saw you from the café across the street.” She glanced back over her shoulder at a dining establishment. “Would your name be Cherijo?”
“It is.” I saw no reason to deny it. “How did you know?”
“Actually, I did not.” She made a confused gesture. “I know it is impolite to delay you, but would you come with me for a moment? There is someone who wishes very much to speak with you. Her name is Salea.”
I couldn’t see whom she was talking about, but guessed it was another immortal healer who had recognized me. “Of course.”
I followed her across the street and into the café, which was crowded and noisy. We wove our way through to a section where it appeared a celebration was being held. Then I saw the small, smiling face of the child dashing toward me, and the astonishment drove me to my knees.
I looked at the door panel for the hundredth time. If my ClanBrother and that damn Omorr didn’t show up soon, I was going to go hunt them down myself.
“One of the pilots told me we’re going to the Liacos Quadrant.”
Hawk was talking to me again. “That’s right.”
“My father’s homeworld lies along our route there. Would it be possible, I mean—”
“Can we make a stop? Of course.” Reever came over, and I automatically blocked my thoughts. I patted Hawk’s arm. “You’re among my friends now. I hope you’ll give them a chance to be your friends, too.” I smiled at Alunthri. “They’ve enriched my life quite a bit.”
“Cherijo, may I have a moment?”
I excused myself, then went with Reever to another unoccupied corner. As I looked back, Hawk began having a conversation with Alunthri, and two fascinated Jorenians who had approached them in my wake.
“I think we have another potential member for HouseClan Torin.” I looked back at Reever. “What’s up?”
“Why are you so agitated?”
“I’m just, uh, excited to be back where I belong.”
“If that’s so, why are you blocking your thoughts from me?”
“Because I’m thinking about killing two crew members with my bare hands.”
Duncan turned to the viewport and made a frustrated sound. “I could understand why you were blocking your thoughts on Terra. But we are among friends now, Cherijo. It isn’t necessary.”
Maybe it was time I went to find Xonea and Squilyp. “Stay here and I’ll—”
The crowd between us and the corridor door panel suddenly parted, forming a wide gap between them. I saw why, and froze.
Xonea was standing at the other end of the gap. In his huge arms he was holding a yawning, blond-haired toddler.
There she was.
“I know you think my telepathic abilities are an intrusion, but if you would only consider how they deepen our intimacy—”<
br />
She was a tiny thing. Of course, the Jorenians made everyone look dinky. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, dead straight, and nearly touched her shoulders. Her features were rosy and yet not baby-pretty. No, she looked like a miniature adult.
“Uh, Duncan?” I blindly swatted at him, unable to take my own eyes away. “Turn around.”
Xonea started walking toward us. The sleepy child rested her cheek against the wide vault of his chest, making her look even smaller. Given her rapid gestation, the six months I’d spent in sleep suspension on the League ship, plus the time on Terra, she would be about a year old now.
Reever took me by the arm. “I love you, Cherijo. I don’t want there to be any more walls between us. Let me in.”
“I will, in a minute. Would you please turn around?”
“Even now you are distracted. Has someone—”
I grabbed his arms and shoved him around. He went very still. “Xonea.”
The child Darea had called Salea stopped short, and her expression turned grave. “It is you, isn’t it? I still remember.”
I could manage only a slow nod, fast tears, and open arms. Then I was holding her, and laughing, and crying, and saying her name.
“Everything changed when you and Daddy went away,” she whispered. “Everything except me. I had to pretend it was okay until I could find you again. Did Daddy come back, too?”
“Yes, honey. He’s at the pavilion now, with Healer Valtas.” I couldn’t quite catch my breath. “Are you all right?”
Her curls bobbed as she nodded. “It didn’t hurt me, but no one remembered who I was after the last big ripple. When they asked about you and Daddy, I told them I was lost from you and I hit my head, so I couldn’t remember our names.” She wrinkled her nose. “They gave me a new one.”
“Salea?” Darea sounded worried. “Do you know this lady?”
“Yes, ClanAunt.” My daughter looked up with shining eyes. “This is my mother. Her name is Cherijo.”
The Torins swarmed around us, but I knew I had to take her back to the pavilion, back to Duncan so he would know. But as I stood, I looked across the broad shoulders and past the concerned blue faces, and saw my husband walking toward us.
