Empress of Eternity

by L. E. Modesitt

  “The Ruche people…they sound like they live in almost a hive culture,” he finally said. “They all look alike—”

  “The ones I saw did. They all might not, but I think you may be right,” replied Maarlyna.

  “They don’t have even the weapons we do, from what you’ve said, and almost all the people just went along like sheep with the new tyrants.”

  “Do most people in the Unity really care if Tauzn becomes the next EA?”

  Maertyn paused. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but…He decided to go on. “They’ll support Tauzn because they believe that D’Onfrio isn’t getting results, and they’re frightened…even when they’re the ones who’ve elected people who are cautious.”

  “What if The Twenty are just like Tauzn? What if they gained power because those in control weren’t solving the problem?”

  Maertyn paused before replying. “From what you said, their problem is worse than ours. We’re fighting the ice, and they’re fighting warming so great that where our fertile lands are they have desert, and where we have ice, they have forests and cropland. And because whatever this Fifty is or was couldn’t stop the desertification, there was a coup, and some sort of tyranny took over. At least, we don’t have the Earth burning up on us.” He paused. “Are they in the future, too?”

  “Yes. Not so far as the Vanir.”

  “How far are the Vanir, then?”

  “I can’t tell. I don’t see things that way…but it’s far. They’re different, physically, especially the women. They’re bigger than the men, and their hair actually changes color, almost as if each strand has tiny lights in it, and they can consciously focus their eyes, I think. Well…the Bridge systems made that observation.”

  Maertyn found himself fingering his stubbly chin. “With all those changes…did they come from the Ruche people or from us? Could it be that Tauzn gained control and forced both genetic changes and geo-engineering…?”

  “And when the solar cycles changed, the Ruche ended up facing a runaway green house effect?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It takes time for a society that rigid to evolve from the ruins of another, and anthropogenic warming builds faster than that. Then again, it might not, if there were significant depopulation.” He paused. “These three want you to help them?”

  Maarlyna nodded. “They were part of a team that was trying to learn more about the canal station. Whatever the political change was, the results make Tauzn look moderate. This Twenty group either kills people or alters their brains, and they do it on the scale of thousands of people.”

  “Do you think they’re telling the truth?”

  “The systems help. I can tell that they believe they’re telling the truth, and there is a large and very recent crater in the seabed northwest of the station—in their event-point locale. The water was still boiling.”

  “That’s very recent.” Maertyn winced. “I thought Tauzn was cold-blooded.”

  “In a hive culture, only the hive as a whole truly matters. Only survival…” Her voice caught for a moment, and she stopped. “Then…it could be that all human societies have more of the hive in them than we’d like to admit.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to help the hive people and the Vanir. Both of them were well on the way to deciphering some of the station controls. Can you imagine what would happen if this Twenty gained control? Or Tauzn? Or those Aesyr?”

  Unfortunately, Maertyn could, but her question raised several others. “Could you help them to operate the station…the Bridge…in their time?”

  “From what the Bridge has gathered about the equipment they used, it would take years.”

  “Does time really matter?”

  “There’s elapsed time. That means it would take years of my time. They also don’t have the right equipment, and I don’t know how effective I would be in trying to explain, even with the help of the systems. There’s also the resonance problem.”

  “Resonance problem?” Every time Maertyn thought he understood a bit more, something else came up.

  “All the event-points in a universe are linked, some more strongly and directly than others. When similar events occur they resonate across the whole. If I can resolve our problems, those of the Ruche people, and those of the Vanir, while they are still linked, the end result will be better. If it takes more of my elapsed time…then it gets harder, and the Vanir solution won’t have the same effect. Because I’m nearest the one event-point that has the least impact on the resonance, I have more leeway in elapsed time here. If I can help the Ruche people first, before the Vanir…that would be better.”

  Maertyn had the feeling that Maarlyna wasn’t telling him everything. “What are you leaving out?”

  A brief rueful smile was her first reply. “It’s harder that way, but if I can make it work, things will be easier for you…us.”

  “A great deal harder?”

  She shrugged, not totally convincingly. “I don’t know how much harder.”

  He wasn’t going to get a better answer. From experience, Maertyn knew that. So he asked the other question that had nagged at him. “Why was the station left open? The one at the other end was locked. Is it like this one?”

  “They’re the same,” she affirmed. “The records don’t say. The keepers’ memories don’t, either. I think the last keeper might have stepped outside…and died or…Whatever happened, she or he didn’t lock the station.”

  “Maybe they knew the only way to find another keeper was to leave it unlocked.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “That’s possible, too.”

  “You’ve told me how you’re going to help the Vanir. What about the Ruche people?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before I promised anything to them.”

  Maertyn almost said something about being glad to be of some use, but he bit back the words. “How far will the Bridge reach—outside the now…the event-point, I’d guess, of each time?”

  “It can reach a distance of its length from any point along its course—except it’s not actually penetrating the event-points.” Maarlyna smiled, almost ruefully. “That’s something that takes getting used to. The old ‘me’ still doesn’t understand that. The ‘new’ part of me…that’s silly in a way, because everything I’ve learned and felt from all the keepers’ memories is much older—”

  “All the keepers’ memories? Plural? How many memories are there?”

  “It’s all one memory, but the part of each one back is fainter than the one nearer to me. The past few years are clear and sharp, especially since we came to the station. The memories of the Maarlyna I was are hazy, but I can remember most things, I think, even if they don’t always feel real. The previous keeper’s memories are hazier than that…and each one is fainter than the one before. It feels like that, anyway, even if the ones I think of as later take place earlier. That’s why I can’t remember much about the terrible disaster when the ancients actually used the Bridge…there are images of the sky being filled with fire, and massive things falling everywhere…” Maarlyna’s voice faded, and she shuddered. “But the feelings of terror…and desolation…they’re still there.”

  Maertyn wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, and he waited.

  “Why did you ask about the reach of the Bridge?” she prompted.

  “I wondered if the capital city happened to be in reach?”

  “Hururia? That’s what they call it.”

  “How can you remember all that?”

  “I really don’t. The Bridge does, I think.” She paused, then said, “Hururia is…well, it will be…eleven hundred thirteen kays to the northeast of the station.”

  “So the Bridge could reach there?”

  “Yes. What do you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know, not exactly, but I have an idea. You’ll have to talk to them again. We need to know more about the Ruche and how their government is set up, and if there are any
symbols that have special significance…things like that…” As he talked, Maertyn couldn’t help but feel that he needed to think about similar issues himself—because the Gaerda outside the station weren’t likely to go away any time soon.

  Not now that Tauzn had proof that Maertyn had gained some control over the station, although that control was totally Maarlyna’s.

  52

  35 Quad 2471 R.E.

  Eltyn, Faelyna, and Rhyana sat around the end of the table where they ate in the pale luminescence now exuded from the blue-gray stone of the station itself, a light slightly dimmer than that cast by a few antique candles, yet an illumination so diffuse that it cast no shadows.

  “Who…or what is she?” asked Rhyana.

  “The keeper?” asked Eltyn. “She obviously controls the canal and the station.”

  “How do we know that?” persisted the delivery woman. “Just because she can appear and change what we see?”

  Eltyn looked to Faelyna. “What do you think?”

  “What would be the point of deceiving us?”

  “To keep us from learning how to control the canal?” suggested Eltyn.

  “If that happened to be her aim, couldn’t she have killed us when we were blind and immobile?”

  “Not if she’s really not in our time, like she said,” Rhyana pointed out.

  “If she’s communicating across time, wouldn’t that suggest she’s telling the truth?” asked Eltyn.

  “What if she’s not?” countered Rhyana.

  “Do you think we’re just dealing with a programmed intelligence that we woke up when we closed the canal?” He looked to Faelyna.

  “That’s possible. That raises other questions. She/it can communicate through our minds…in our language. If she’s from what amounts to our future, why would she bother? If she’s from the past, how does she know how we speak? None of the ancient tongues are like Hururian.”

  “It bothers me,” declared Rhyana.

  “We don’t have too many choices,” Faelyna pointed out.

  That concerned Eltyn. None of their choices were good.

  The light intensity in the lower level brightened, and the three turned to see the keeper standing there, with the same silver-shadowed presence behind her. I need to know more if I am to help you.

  Why did you contact us? asked Eltyn. Why do you want to help us?

  The keeper did not answer immediately, as seemed to be the case, Eltyn thought, whenever a difficult question was posed. Was that a sign of an artificial intelligence?

  By closing the station, you contacted…me. The Bridge has great power, but using all but the smallest fraction of that power will destroy the Earth. If we help you, that power is less likely to fall into the hands of those like The Twenty.

  Why don’t you show us how to operate things? asked Rhyana. That way we can decide for ourselves.

  The keeper laughed, yet there was a sadness behind the soundless gesture. You cannot operate the Bridge the way I do. If you had more time and more…advanced equipment, with help, over years you might discover those means. For many reasons, that is not practical.

  Not practical for us…or for you?

  For either of us. You do not have the supplies, and there is no way to get them to you. If you do not act soon, in terms of your own event-point, the chances for success decline.

  How do we know that all of this isn’t just a way to get us to leave the station? pressed Rhyana. To keep us from finding out how it works?

  If that were my intention, all I need do is nothing. All I need do is wait. Your food and water will not last forever.

  We can unlock the station, Eltyn replied.

  The keeper smiled sadly. Not any longer. You should try. I will wait.

  Eltyn glanced at Faelyna. Then the two of them stood, followed by Rhyana. They eased from the table, made their way to the ramp, and walked up the lower ramp and then the upper one to where their equipment remained. At a distance, the keeper followed.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” Eltyn looked at the makeshift assemblage, which appeared cloaked with the ghost consoles that represented, he thought, equipment from another time.

  “I’m not going to open anything,” she replied. “I’m just going to unlock one of the windows. The stone will still protect us, and there can’t be anyone outside looking to get in. The riffies will be watching by minidrone, if they’re watching at all.”

  “Do we have enough power?”

  “We should, and we need to know if she’s telling the truth.” Faelyna addressed the screen before her. “We’ll try the south window.” She frowned. “There’s no response.”

  Rhyana walked to where the window had always opened and pressed her hand against the stone before either of the others could say a word.

  The stone remained immobile.

  After several moments, Eltyn turned to the keeper. “You…” As he started to speak, his words went from spoken to thought. …seem to have us where you want us.

  I would not wish where you are upon anyone. I do understand.

  The almost plaintive honesty of her response went through Eltyn like a blade.

  The three exchanged glances.

  Finally, Faelyna asked, What do you need to know?

  Would you tell me more about The Twenty…where they are located…

  We don’t know too much, but they represent themselves as upholders of tradition… began Eltyn.

  Before long, he had lost track of all the questions posed by the silver-eyed keeper, but he did notice that she often glanced at the silver-shadowed figure that always seemed to follow her.

  Much, much later, the keeper finally said, Thank you. We must think of the best way to deal with your problem.

  Then she vanished.

  Eltyn used the back of his sleeve to blot away the dampness on his forehead.

  “She asked a lot of questions about The Twenty and Hururia,” said Rhyana.

  “She asked as many about what people believe,” mused Faelyna. “And about traditions.”

  “And why the questions about the rainbow?” Rhyana wrinkled her brow.

  Eltyn had to admit that he’d been puzzled about the keeper’s inquiry about legends dealing with the rainbow. Then, he’d also been puzzled about her questions about what she had called politics. Even after her explanation of the term, it hadn’t made that much sense.

  53

  20 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

  Duhyle required less than an hour to rig capacitor-jolt detonators for the biotherm. Then he reshaped the explosive into ten makeshift grenades around which he formed thin metal/composite fragments, wrapped in another metal sheath. For the detonators and the casings, he cannibalized much of his own equipment, since he had no doubts that, one way or another, it would be unnecessary in the future. He was finishing sealing the last grenade when Helkyria walked up from the lower level.

  “Are those…?”

  “Grenades of a primitive sort. They’ve got impact/timer detonators. They should go through most impact-resistant uniforms. Even if they don’t, there are likely to be broken bones and other injuries.” He completed the last seal and looked up. “How are the techs and troopers taking it?”

  “They’re more than ready.” Her smile was crooked and rueful. “They don’t like being cooped up.”

  “It hasn’t been that long. It only seems that way. Think of what it must have been like when the ancients sent military forces to Mars and the Belt. Or farther.”

  “Farther? We don’t know that. In any case, that’s old, old history. You might as well ask them about using spears.”

  “What about the officers?”

  “Valakyr doesn’t trust the keeper, not surprisingly, and Symra worries that we’re being double-crossed.”

  “And you?”

  “We’re not being double-crossed, but we’re likely to be very expendable. The keeper doesn’t want the Aesyr to use the Hammer any more than we do. Much less, in fact. I’d judge that
she—or it—is more worried about Baeldura than we are.” Blackish purple light glowed from the tips of her hair and was reflected in her silver irises before fading into a faint blue.

  “We’re the handy tool to take care of the problem,” replied Duhyle. “Do we really have any choice?”

  “That was the point I had to make to Valakyr. It didn’t seem to occur to her that, if the universe collapses, even the canal—the Bridge—will go with it. That doesn’t benefit the keeper. Symra at least understood that.”

  Duhyle frowned. “I might be wrong, but I think there’s more at stake than that for this…keeper.”

  “More than what?”

  “Survival, either of her or the Bridge.”

  “I’d have to agree, but I don’t think we can count on finding out.”

  Duhyle stood and stretched. “You might ask her. You’re the only one who has a chance of understanding the answers.”

  “You might be better than I am at that,” she replied.

  “I doubt it, but that doesn’t matter. The keeper and the officers are both more likely to listen to you.”

  Helkyria sat on the stool facing Duhyle. “Kavn…what do you think the keeper is after? You’ve had a chance to watch her.”

  “I think she’s new at her job. Or she hasn’t done it for a long time, and she’s faced with something she didn’t anticipate.”

  “I had a thought or two along those lines, but…some of the technical jargon…she speaks it without hesitation. Expert systems, you think?”

  “Very expert systems. That’s another problem. I worry that she may be a captive of those systems.”