Because I must. You offer the hope of intelligence against the dead hand of a dead faith. Go! All of you.
Rhyana was the first through the doorway. Eltyn and Faelyna hurried after her.
Eltyn stumbled, and then righted himself as the rainbow incandescence quickly diminished. He blinked. The three of them stood in a metal-lined corridor with a ceiling less than a yard overhead. Behind them the last of the rainbow flared momentarily…and then vanished totally.
Toward them hurried a man in a drab brown garment that had been a TechOversight singlesuit before it had been subjected to far too many cleanings. He came to an abrupt halt. “Who…how did you get inside? What was that light?” He almost reached for the stunner at his waistband, then saw the weapons in the hands of the three.
“Tech Eltyn, Tech Faelyna,” said Eltyn. “We were stationed at the MCC MetStation when the RF uprising started. We received the order for Contingency Three. It took a while for us to get here.”
“How did you get in?” demanded the older tech, his voice bearing equal traces of anger and concern.
“The only way we could,” replied Eltyn.
“How did you manage that rainbow effect? Did you burn…?” He stopped speaking and looked past them toward the dead riffie, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“The riffie tried to kill us,” snapped Rhyana.
“We’ll be happy to explain that, as well as we can, when we’re debriefed,” added Eltyn.
“The only place you belong is in detention.”
“I have a suggestion, Supervisor,” Eltyn said pleasantly. “Along the way, we also blew the top off the Ruche dome in Hururia. We’ll be happy to wait quietly until you get confirmation.”
“Oh…and when did this explosion occur?” The supervisor’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“Most amusing.”
“It’s true. All you have to do is wait.”
“I could brain-scan all of you.”
Eltyn didn’t mention that the supervisor was outnumbered and outweaponed. That wouldn’t last long.
“That wouldn’t make you any better than riffies and The Twenty,” snapped Rhyana. “We’ve worked hard to get here. You might look over the riffie’s body.” She half-turned and pointed to the limp figure on the composite floor of the tunnel. “It might tell you something.”
Eltyn frowned. Was there a pulse-net in Chiental? He extended a probe, trying to determine…
Authenticate! demanded the system.
Eltyn entered his TechOversight codes and ID.
Accepted. Level three.
Eltyn looked to Faelyna and mouthed, “Pulse-net.”
After a moment, she nodded and smiled.
Interrogative access? demanded someone.
The supervisor glanced from Faelyna to Eltyn, then back to her.
Project Canal-three, MetCom cover, replied Eltyn. He had the feeling that the Chiental pulse-net was operating on individual segregation, except possibly on the supervisory level. They’d never needed that at the canal station, not with two people. How many techs and others were sheltered on the multiple levels of the redoubt?
Supervisor Tauryl…bring the canal techs to debriefing section. The net command conveyed absolute authority.
Even so, Eltyn wondered how well the speaker might do against the Bridge-keeper. He kept the thought to himself. No one else in the Ruche was likely to ever enter the station.
“How did you manage that?” asked Tauryl.
“Senior net access,” replied Eltyn.
“You might as well come, too,” Tauryl said, glancing at Rhyana. “Chief Interrogator Bernyt will want to know everything.”
“What about the riffie?” demanded Rhyana.
“I’ve sent for a crew to pick it up. Now…let’s go.” He pointed deeper into the mountain tunnel.
Chief Interrogator? Exactly what had they gotten themselves into? questioned Eltyn.
Faelyna eased closer to Eltyn, murmuring, “Just tell them everything about the Bridge systems.”
Eltyn didn’t understand what she meant, but only for a moment.
“No whispering!”
“I was just telling him to make sure to tell them everything.”
“You both will. The interrogators are quite thorough.”
“We’re both TechOversight operatives,” Eltyn pointed out.
“You say you are. The interrogators will make certain.”
Eltyn had no doubts of that, nor that the process would be painful to some degree. Still…what else could they have done?
56
9 Tenmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn
The silvery shadows vanished from the main chamber of the station, and Maertyn glanced around, taking in the familiar furniture—and the still-unfamiliar ghostly light-images of unfathomable equipment. His eyes came to rest on Maarlyna, wearing the red singlesuit that remained an instant reminder of how much had changed so quickly between them.
“Dead hand of a dead faith?” offered Maertyn. “Where did that come from?”
For a moment, Maarlyna did not answer, her eyes and senses still somewhere else. Then she looked at Maertyn and smiled, wanly. “From me. Well…the words were mine, but it came from seeing everything the old keepers saw. Why do you ask?”
“The words seemed strange…that’s all.”
“Strange…or strange coming from me?”
“Both,” he admitted.
“What I said is the problem in Caelaarn, too, dearest.”
“There are more than a few problems in Caelaarn,” Maertyn admitted, “but I don’t see the dead hand of faith as one of them.”
“Dead hand of a dead faith…that’s what I said.”
“What did you mean by that?”
“Why can’t you or anyone else see what I see here in the station? What I saw from the beginning and didn’t mention because I was afraid you’d think I had lost my mind?”
Maertyn knew it had to have had something to do with the regeneration and partial recloning that had restored her. “Because you see things differently.”
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“I had to learn to see all over again. You remember that?”
“Yes,” he responded with caution.
“I learned then that we don’t actually see the world around us. Our eyes scan constantly, relaying bits of information to our brains, and our brains interpret that information into a coherent whole. They also filter out anything that doesn’t seem…relevant…I’m guessing, but seeing event-points outside or away from where we are makes surviving harder, not easier, and our brains have to process a great deal anyway.”
“What does this have to do with faith, dead faith?”
“What you see is based partly on what you believe, even if what you believe is not truly the way things are.” She shook her head. “The Unity…everyone believes that biological solutions are always the best. That’s faith. The ancient ancients believed that technology could solve everything. That’s another kind of faith. Their ancestors believed in deities who would put things right if one only believed. The Ruche believe common values will prevail. They’re all faiths, and because they’re incomplete, they’re dead. Those who follow those faiths are chained by the dead hand—”
“Of a dead faith,” he finished. “The only problem is that people won’t accept that.”
“That’s why, I think, I felt better when I came here, even though I didn’t know why.”
Maertyn wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. After several moments that felt endless, he finally said, “Can you rest for a bit before you deal with the Vanir? You’re looking pale.”
“Only a little while.” Maarlyna stepped back and settled into the antique Laarnian chair, taking a slow deep breath, then another, as if what she had said to him had been an effort.
As he seated himself across from her, Maertyn half-smiled, reflecting that the chair had existed for little over
a century and that he’d thought of it as almost ancient while standing in a structure that predated his entire culture by hundreds of thousands, if not millions of years. The flickering of the ghost images reminded him of another nagging question. He cleared his throat.
“What is it?” Maarlyna’s words were gentle.
“I see all these images of equipment lining the walls, and I’m guessing that they come from past times. The station still operates, but there’s no equipment in our time, and there hasn’t been for a long time. And I know time doesn’t exist the way I’ve always thought of it, but…if the station still operates…what happened to everything?”
“I wondered about that, too.” Maarlyna’s lips quirked. “I asked…and searched. In the last years before the great catastrophe, the ancients changed everything and incorporated all the functions into the structure, the stone, itself, so that nothing could ever damage it.”
“But they couldn’t save themselves or their civilization?”
“How many times have you told me that finding practical solutions that could be readily implemented is easy, but that getting people to accept them is almost impossible?”
He had to smile at hearing his own words from her.
“Before long, I’ll need to talk to the Vanir.”
“I thought you could enter their time right after you left…”
“It’s not that simple. They need time to prepare…and there’s the resonance problem.”
“You mentioned that before. Why do actions now or with the Ruche or with the Vanir have any direct relationship to each other? They’re in different times…event-points…as you call them.”
Maarlyna sighed. “I’m not sure I understand enough to make it clear, and some of the words…some of the concepts…don’t exactly translate. The universe…the multiverse…religious people, believers, all tend to think that there is something beyond it. There isn’t. On the other side, the rationalists assume that any universe is, I’d guess you’d say, limited and neutral. It’s not. The confluence of all actions within its event-points determines its…flow. Actions by intelligences have a greater proportional impact as the universe…progresses…”
“Of course. Technology and biological sciences can affect more.”
Maarlyna looked as if she might say something, but did not.
Maertyn waited.
“That’s true,” she finally said, “but it goes beyond that. Universes, like individuals, seek meaning.”
“You’re saying that a universe is alive?”
“I don’t think anyone knows that. The ancients didn’t. But universes progress from initial exploding chaos into structures that continue to evolve. Those that don’t…they collapse.” She shook her head again. “I can’t make it clear, not in Laarnian. All I can say is that what they face is the negation of everything, and that if the Vanir defeat the Aesyr, if the Ruche can force back the negation they face, and you can halt the negativity Tauzn represents, the struggle…the evolution toward meaning…will continue…”
At that moment, Maertyn had no idea whether Maarlyna was mouthing nonsense, trying to translate the untranslatable…or whether he was incapable of understanding exactly what she was trying to convey to him.
“Maertyn…just let me have a moment…”
He could do that. Yet, as he sat back in the familiar comfort of the old family chair, a familiarity that no longer reassured him, he had to wonder if all the things he’d watched and heard were really just part of a grand delusion. He knew the canal existed…and the station. But what else was real? Did he know…for certain?
57
35 Quad 2471 R.E.
As Eltyn had suspected, before they had gone another twenty yards into the mountain, a half squad of techs armed with heavy long-barreled stunners appeared. All wore TechOversight singlesuits, and each stood ready to fire at an instant’s notice.
Relinquishing your weapons would be advisable, came the command from the redoubt pulse-net.
Eltyn looked at Faelyna, then at Rhyana. “They suggest that we leave our weapons.”
“It’s not as if we’ve got much choice,” pointed out the delivery woman. “Thought we’d get a warmer welcome.”
Eltyn didn’t comment, not in the face of that many weapons. He handed the projectile rifle to the tech, but only after releasing and pocketing the magazine.
“You’re not exactly trusting,” noted the tech.
“Stunners don’t kill. That does.” Eltyn nodded at the rifle, noting that Rhyana had followed his example and stepped forward with her weapon. “I’d rather not have someone accidentally killed.” Especially if it happened to be one of the three of them.
Faelyna surrendered her long-barreled stunner without a word.
“Good.” The tech handed all three weapons to one of the squad members who had moved forward, then turned and began to walk, not looking back. That showed he was linked to the redoubt’s internal scanners as well as the pulse-net.
The three followed.
The metal-lined corridor still stretched more than a hundred yards farther westward when the tech turned into a small hallway that headed north. “This way.”
Eltyn glanced back. The armed squad still followed, stunners at the ready.
Their escort stopped a few yards farther on. “Tech Eltyn…you go in there.” He pointed to a featureless gray door.
Eltyn looked back at Faelyna, hoping it was not the last time he would see her—or remember seeing her. He smiled as warmly as he could, trying to convey more than concern. Then he turned and walked up to the door, pressing the lever and opening it. He stepped inside to find a woman standing there, clad in a gray-brown TechOversight singlesuit. Her oval face was not quite angular. Her brown eyes were flat, and her short brown hair was without highlights.
She did not smile. She closed the door behind him. “I’m Chief Interrogator Bernyt.” She gestured to the heavy chair with the high headrest anchored to the floor in the middle of the small room. “Please take a seat.”
“I’m not certain that’s in my best interests. We’ve had to survive a great deal to comply with Contingency Three, and when we get here, we’re treated like enemies.”
“That’s because you could be.” Bernyt’s smile was cool and professional. “Even with all the codes you have, it’s possible that you’re an RF plant. We intend to discover whether you are who you claim to be.”
“What about DNA, gene maps, and the like?” asked Eltyn.
“If you’re a deep plant, they’ll match, because you’ll always have been in the system,” Bernyt pointed out.
Eltyn suppressed a wry smile. TechOversight had used similar means to get Faelyna and him assigned to the MCC.
Do not make matters more unpleasant than they have to be.
Eltyn didn’t care for such reminders, especially from the pulse-net. He also didn’t have much choice. He settled into the heavy gray chair gingerly. He even managed not to wince as the restraining cuffs clamped his wrists.
“We’ll make this as painless and as quick as possible.” Bernyt stepped back from the chair.
Eltyn had definite doubts about either aspect of that reassurance.
“Tell me your full name, your place of birth, and birth cohort.”
“Eltyn CyanRed, Ascensia, Primia, Fal-233.”
“Your occupation and current assignment.”
“Senior Tech, MetOps, assigned to MCC MetStation (W), meteorological operations. Cover for TechOversight project CCS-3.”
“Explain this project.”
“The objective of the project was to determine, first, if higher-level technology was contained within the station and, second, if that technology could be accessed and developed…” Eltyn continued by repeating, as he remembered it, the official description of the work he and Faelyna had been assigned to undertake.
Before he finished a burning jolt ran through his entire body. “All you’re doing is reciting. Explain the project in simple and direct terms.�
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“That was the description TechOversight provided—”
Another jolt burned through him, and his eyes watered.
“Stop stalling. Explain it without the jargon.”
Eltyn swallowed, then began again. “No one’s been able ever to even make any impression on the stone of the canal or the station. The doors and windows slide into the stone itself without leaving any openings or traces—”
Thud! Eltyn’s head slammed into the back of the chair from the force of the nerve jolt.
“Do you expect anyone to believe that?”
“I’ve seen it,” he replied groggily. “There…are books and monographs…describing it…Lasers have been fired at it…no effect.” His entire head throbbed.
“How much progress did you make?”
“We’d been able to detect a response on the fermionic level—”
Another pulse of pain jolted him. “No jargon!”
“Not jargon…fermions are subatomic…have a detectable…shadow…with proper equipment…showed symbols…”
More pain slammed into him. “Symbols?”
He moistened his lips. “Symbols…when we duplicated them… before the coup…just before…we could open doors…windows…without touching them…no one…done that before…”
“What happened after The Twenty announced their taking control of Hururia?”
“They didn’t…announce it that way. First, there was an announcement demanding power reductions, and then an announcement on the emergency band saying The Twenty had superseded The Fifty in accord with some prime emergency directive…”
That brought another jolt. “Some emergency directive?”
“We’d never heard of it…thought it was an RF invention…”
Bit by bit, Bernyt led him through the attacks by the riffie inspectors, with only a few jolts, until he got to how they had “locked” the station.
Three stiff jolts in a row left him reeling in the chair.
“Explain that again. You’re not making any sense…”
He just let his head loll there against the headrest. “I can’t…not any better…could jolt me to death…but it’s physics, fermionic theory…practical application…and things…they got stranger after that…”
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