Empress of Eternity

by L. E. Modesitt

  Surprisingly, Bernyt didn’t jolt him when he described The Twenty’s efforts to destroy or open the station by the dropping of material from orbit…and the heat and the results.

  He did get another series of jolts when he mentioned the manifestation of the keeper as a projection of the Bridge systems…that was the best he could do, because there was no other way to explain how the systems interfaced…but he wasn’t certain he was making any sense.

  “How did you get here? The station is on the south side of the canal.”

  “The Bridge systems…they curved the canal out of time…”

  Another jolt. “Likely story. Try again.”

  “…can’t,” he gasped. “Can’t…how we got to Hururia…how the Bridge blew the Ruche dome…”

  The jolt following those words brought blackness down on him.

  When he regained consciousness, his face was damp.

  “Do you want to try again?”

  “You…can kill me…with that…won’t change anything…no other way to get here. No boats. The wheeler…buried in sand…”

  Pain coursed through every nerve in Eltyn’s body, and, again, blackness swamped him.

  When he slowly struggled through grogginess, a slow thought crept through his mind. Was there that much difference between the methods of TechOversight and those of The Twenty? Except he still had his mind. So far.

  “Try again.”

  “I told you. The Bridge systems told us…” Behind the pain, he kept telling himself that the keeper was only part of the systems.

  From that point on, he wasn’t even certain what he was saying.

  Then, abruptly…another darkness swept over him, and the pain ended.

  58

  20 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

  Duhyle and Helkyria—and all the others in the station—ended up waiting hours, although Duhyle doubted that any time had elapsed outside the station, not that he had any way of telling. The outside monitor screens showed the same image as they had ever since he and Helkyria had triggered the synchronizer. Helkyria had gone down to the lower level to go over the assault plans with the two officers, while Duhyle had fashioned a chest harness for the grenades, placed the grenades in it, and considered how best to use his makeshift weapons. While he knew they would explode as designed, how much damage they would do inside the refurbished antique Aesyr warship was another question entirely.

  For all the time he had pondered, he wasn’t certain he’d accomplished all that much when he finally stood and eased his way down the ramp, far enough that he could hear Helkyria.

  “…and remember…the control center for the Hammer has to be located directly behind the bridge on that behemoth. We can’t get there directly. At the single point the Bridge can touch the ship and we can cross, the only hatch open is one a level down and twenty yards aft of the ship’s bridge. We’ll have to fight our way from there. Subcaptain Symra and the spec-ops team will take the hatch and hold it, and Captain Valakyr’s troopers will spread and secure the superstructure, especially the ship’s bridge and area just aft…” When Helkyria had gone over the rest of the plan, she looked to the two junior officers. “Form up your techs and troopers. The keeper will return when we’re ready.”

  Duhyle hoped that was so, but how would they know?

  “How do you know we can trust this…keeper, Commander?” asked Symra.

  “I don’t,” replied Helkyria. “The probabilities favor trust, but they’re far from absolute. I don’t see any other options. Do you?”

  “No, ser.”

  Duhyle slipped back up the ramp and waited for Helkyria in the large main-floor chamber. When she returned from the lower level, he asked, “Are they more settled?”

  “As settled as they can be.”

  “If the Bridge is out of time—or out of this event-point,” asked Duhyle, “why can’t the keeper just have it open inside the Aesyr ship?”

  “There’s a layer of something that’s similar to the stone of the canal in the armor of the ship. That’s why it survived so long. I’d guess that the Bridge, even if it exists out of what we call time, can’t penetrate anything that’s existed for a long time, either, like a mountain.” She paused, then went on. “If we’re actually out of time, or suspended where time doesn’t exist, that will give us the advantage of surprise.”

  “Because we’ll appear sooner than Baeldura would expect?”

  “That’s the hope.”

  The two looked at one another, waiting, when the silvery radiance began to build, almost directly before Helkyria.

  “Tell Symra and Valakyr to muster everyone for action. Then have the two of them join us.”

  Duhyle hurried to the ramp and down to the lower level.

  The two officers jumped up from the bench where they had been sitting.

  “The commander said to muster your forces and then join her on the main level.” Duhyle immediately turned and strode, at not quite a run, back up to rejoin Helkyria.

  Behind him, Valakyr ordered, “Stand by for deployment!”

  Duhyle supposed that was as good a command as any, and better than “Be ready to go through a stone door of an ancient canal station into the hatch of a slightly less ancient warcraft.” When he reached the main level, Helkyria was listening to the keeper.

  The keeper stood less than a yard from the scient-commander …ready to move against the Aesyr?

  Before we go any farther, I’d like a few words with you, Keeper. Privately. Helkyria stepped forward.

  We can do that. A silvery curtain flowed from somewhere around the two women.

  “How did she do that?” murmured Symra, as she hurried up on Duhyle’s right. “Why now?”

  “She’s bargaining for knowledge,” Duhyle said in a low voice. “That’s my guess. The keeper isn’t in our time, and we’re fighting her battle as much as our own. The commander wants some payback, and all that’s possible is knowledge.”

  “Let’s hope it’s worth it,” murmured the subcaptain.

  Neither of them mentioned that the knowledge would be useless if Helkyria did not survive the attack on the Aesyr warship.

  After a time—and Duhyle wondered what time was when people were out of time and whether they aged—the silvery curtain vanished.

  Helkyria stepped back and pointed to the space where the southern door of the station had always opened. “Spec-ops, forward!”

  Symra strode down the yard or so of the upper ramp and stood at one side. Duhyle moved back to the bottom of the ramp leading to the upper level, then halted as the seven remaining spec-ops techs positioned themselves directly behind the southern door of the station.

  Once the spec-ops techs stood ready, the first of the security troopers moved up the lower ramp to form a tight column that doubled back on itself and then ran down the ramp to the lower level. Captain Valakyr stationed herself behind the first three troopers.

  The keeper looked at Helkyria. Are you ready?

  We’re ready.

  Surprisingly, the keeper moved across the main chamber to where Duhyle stood. She extended her hand. In it was the tiniest sprig of greenery. When all else fails against the Aesyr leader, affix this to your last grenade before you throw it. The grenade itself may not suffice, but the mistletoe will not fail.

  Mistletoe…how could that help? Duhyle did not voice the question, but accepted the sprig. Anyone who controlled the canal…or the Bifrost Bridge, as she had termed it…might know more than he did.

  You think you are blind and slow compared to all the others, she went on. You will see what they do not. A sweet smile followed.

  Duhyle felt that sadness lay behind her expression, or perhaps a lifetime or an eternity of sadness. He fingered the green sprig, barely the size of his thumb, realizing as he did that his fingers did not actually touch the greenery, as if an invisible shield surrounded it. There was more to that greenery than met the eye. But why had she given it to him?

  The keeper in red had
already headed back toward Helkyria. She stopped just to the right of the first spec-op techs. The Bridge is almost in position.

  “Spec-ops!” called Helkyria. “Stand by for insertion!”

  Duhyle fumbled in his waistpak for the stiktite, easing out a strip and holding it and the mistletoe in one hand. With the other, he levered out the cylindrical grenade from the topmost strap holder on the right side of his makeshift harness. Then he pressed the sprig against the stiktite and wrapped the strip across the surface of the grenade, before carefully slipping it back into the strap holder.

  “Spec-ops…stand by!” ordered Symra.

  There was no feeling of movement or anything else, yet when the south door to the station opened, what Duhyle saw over the heads of the fast-moving spec-ops techs was a brilliant rainbow of light, so bright that it hurt his eyes…and beyond that a wall of blackish brown metal.

  Two massive and red-bearded Aesyr stood on the narrow metal platform before an open hatch, their mouths agape. The techs surged forward, and both Aesyr fell. In moments, the techs were inside the hatch, and Valakyr and the first of the security troopers were pouring onto the platform and through the hatch.

  Duhyle moved across the chamber to a position near the open door. There he waited until several groups had left the station, then jumped in front of another threesome and hurled himself through the opening. Landing on the hard metal platform deck sent a shock up through his boots, almost as if the Aesyr ship carried one sort of charge and the station another. He staggered, then righted himself and followed the troopers into the passageway beyond the hatch, its dark brown metal bulkheads two yards apart. The overhead was also metallic, a smooth silvery cream that emitted a cool and indirect light.

  He’d taken only three steps before something like a jagged lightning bolt flared down the metal passageway, striking some of the techs and missing others, crackling and leaving the acrid odor of seared flesh, fabric, and equipment.

  Duhyle started to catch a falling trooper, then let her slide past him to the deck as he realized that the charcoaled face held no life. He swallowed and followed two troopers who were dodging toward a ship’s ladder up to the next level.

  “Boarders on the bridge! All marines midships! Second deck house level!” The announcement reverberated off the metal bulkheads with such volume that it almost deafened Duhyle as he followed the pair of troopers toward the ladder.

  More of the lightning-fire flared down the ladder toward a trooper at the bottom. He lifted a small shield, and the electroplasma flared harmlessly around him.

  Duhyle flattened himself against the bulkhead to let another three troopers rush past him, then followed them closely. All four of them stopped short of the area at the foot of the ladder.

  While the trooper at the bottom of the ladder continued to deflect electroplasma bolts, the force of the bolts froze him in place. No one else would have been able to climb the metal stairs in the face of that barrage, either.

  “Marines midships! Midships on the double!”

  The announcement reminded Duhyle that they didn’t have much time to reach the deck above, especially with Aesyr marines swarming toward them from all over the enormous vessel. He eased out one of his grenades and made his way past the troopers near the open space at the base of the ladder. He stopped just short of where the electroplasma bolts could reach him.

  There he pressed the detonator, then waited a slight moment before taking a quick two steps. He leaned forward and flung the grenade underhanded and up the ladder—before jumping back before another electroblast streamed downward.

  The explosion of the grenade was thunderous within the metal-enclosed space, but when the trooper with the shield started to move up the ladder, another jagged plasma bolt flared downward, forcing him back.

  Duhyle pulled another grenade from his chest harness, waited for the next plasma bolt, then pressed the detonator, jumped forward, and flung the second grenade. This time, the return bolt passed close enough to his arm that he could feel the heat and power.

  But…no more bolts followed the second explosion, and a wave of troopers flowed up the ladder. Duhyle was more than glad to let them. He followed after a good squad’s worth of troopers had scrambled up the metal stairs to the bridge level.

  Once up the ladder he followed the cross passageway toward the center of the ship, keeping low to avoid the occasional and intermittent projectiles and electroplasma bolts that ricocheted off the dark metal walls or the well-lit overhead.

  Ahead of him, the midships passageway intersected a fore-and-aft passageway, predictably enough, in the middle of the superstructure. Several troopers hung back from the fore-and-aft passage, even while snapping fire around the corner because of the fire coming from the direction of the bridge.

  Why hadn’t the Aesyr closed the hatch to the bridge? They’d had enough time. Or was there something preventing them?

  Duhyle pulled out another grenade as he moved forward, pressing aside several troopers and stepping over one who had fallen. As he neared the corner, he dropped to his knees, then took a quick look toward the bridge, then jerked his head back. The passageway was strewn with bodies, but one of the dead or immobile Vanir troopers had jammed something in the hatch, and the Aesyr were struggling to remove it, and several bodies that blocked the hatchway as well.

  Taking another grenade, Duhyle tabbed the detonator and then leaned forward and hurled it toward the hatch, ducking back and reaching for another grenade from the harness.

  The first grenade bounced down the passageway and stopped short of the hatch, caught on something, before it exploded.

  Immediately after the explosion, Duhyle let go of a second grenade, hurling it toward the opening in the hatchway. His aim was off, and the cylinder ricocheted to a halt just short of the hatch. Duhyle dropped back around the corner and readied a third grenade as the second exploded.

  Beside him, Valakyr grabbed one of the small shields from a trooper, clearly waiting for Duhyle to throw his next grenade.

  Duhyle did, and as soon as the explosion echoed down the passageway, Valakyr sprang clear, ordering “Forward!” as she sprinted the ten yards or so toward the hatch.

  Troopers surged after her.

  Duhyle let them. The Hammer control section had to be aft, and he looked to his right, down the fore-and-aft center passageway. Bolts of force flared from an open hatchway some fifteen yards away, dropping a trooper.

  Duhyle didn’t move. There was something odd…wrong. The trooper had bounced away from the hatchway—before being struck. The forcebolt had held a reddish shade. Duhyle had never seen that before…ever, and he’d seen every kind of weapon used by the spec-ops and security forces.

  He watched the aft hatchway more intently. Another trooper fired a stunner bolt at it, and the energy angled away from the open hatch as if reflected.

  Symra drew up beside Duhyle, gesturing toward the open hatchway. “That’s where Baeldura is.”

  “I thought so.” Duhyle glanced at Symra. “Where’s the commander?” He couldn’t bear to use her name, not when he feared what the subcaptain might well say.

  “She’s still on the lower deck. Part of her leg got torn up some by their flechettes, and we can’t get her up here. She said to tell you she’ll be fine, but that it won’t matter if we don’t stop Baeldura. She’s on a portable comm with Baeldura.”

  Duhyle understood that the “we” mostly likely meant him. He just nodded, then eased around the corner into the fore-and-aft passageway and flattened himself against the metallic bulkhead. Whoever was firing from inside the compartment couldn’t quite hit the space right next to either bulkhead.

  From behind Duhyle, Symra fired at the open hatch, and the heavy flechette shattered against…nothing.

  Duhyle moved quickly, keeping his back against the bulkhead and nearing the seemingly open compartment hatch. Once closer to the hatch, he could hear words, from a voice he could not help but recognize, even from the few times he
had heard it.

  “The very walls, the very air turns away anything your troopers can fire at me!” A manic energy infused Baeldura’s words. “If you do not withdraw all of your forces immediately, I will loose the Hammers all across Vanira.”

  There was a silence.

  “Don’t tell me you can’t…”

  Duhyle reached for the topmost grenade in the harness, the one with the mistletoe strapped to it, knowing that he was almost out of time, hoping that the keeper’s “gift” would make the difference.

  Standing just in front of Symra, Duhyle pressed the detonator stud, waited, and then stooped and turned, pitching the makeshift biotherm grenade toward the open hatchway.

  A bolt of reddish energy grazed Duhyle’s sleeve, destroying the fabric and searing a patch of bare skin. Duhyle almost didn’t feel the pain.

  At that flash and motion, Baeldura looked from the console before her, catching sight of Duhyle. “You…bitch!”

  Those words were directed at Helkyria, doubtless, but the Aesyr commander said nothing more, her mouth open as the grenade passed through the barrier that had repulsed all other energies and projectiles. Her hand jabbed at the console before her.

  “So much for Vaena—”

  The grenade exploded. So did Duhyle’s world, and he was bathed in fire and ice…

  59

  9 Tenmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

  Maertyn stood by the northernmost of the Laarnian chairs, trying to sense the words and the actions of Maarlyna through the silvery veil of time. At moments, he thought he could also make out a woman in silvery armor, although sometimes she appeared to be wearing a pale blue singlesuit. Maarlyna moved across the chamber several times, and once she walked through the low table that had also come from Norlaak. That, more than anything, told Maertyn how much things had changed.