“What about your ship?”
“Mr. Sho has generously offered us the temporary occupancy of a warehouse to use as a hanger. Nicole will stay behind to effect repairs and join us as soon as she is able.”
Sho nodded and stepped away to speak with his security guard. A moment later the guard walked off toward one of the warehouses and Sho returned.
“She’ll open it up and your companion can move the vessel inside. I have a car waiting to take us to the hotel, and I can send it back for her to so she can join us when she’s completed her work. I’m told you have an appreciation of fine food, Mr. Conroy.”
“I’m told that’s something we share, Mr. Sho.”
“Yes and no. I enjoy an excellent meal, but my highest appreciation is in understanding the components and the process that produces it.”
“Hence your interest in cookbooks?”
“Exactly. That’s the bait our friends here have used to hook me. They have promised me access to thousands of recipes that no one from Earth has ever seen. I hope to adapt them to human materials and palates. Perhaps we will get a chance to sample some of them together.”
“So you’re a chef as well?”
“Me? My word, no. But I am old friends with the chef at the El Presidente. He’s the finest in the state, and has always been interested in whatever obscure recipe I’ve brought him in the past. He’s also the reason why the Uary have a suite there.”
Nikos had been nodding to himself during all of this, presumably letting the humans get acquainted. He jumped in now to suggest we adjourn to the hotel as planned, and Sho excused himself to alert his driver we would be leaving. As he walked away I confronted Nikos.
“Okay, so I understand Sho’s motivation for your little experiment. What do I get out of it?”
The Uary smiled again. “Patience, Mr. Conroy. Patience and breakfast.”
The El Presidente had been built just three decades prior, but with the look and feel of a grand hotel from two hundred years ago, a blend of 19th century Spanish splendor and native charm, all while quietly equipped with the technologies of modern life. Our driver dropped us off at the front entrance just as dawn was breaking, and Nikos led the way to a spacious set of rooms on one of the hotel’s upper floors. Sho took it upon himself to call down to the kitchen for room service and I used the opportunity to freshen up. Something I’d been intending to do since before Nicole had snagged me after my show.
It’s the routine moments amidst chaos that grounds us, and as I splashed water on my face and experienced the fluffiness of the El Presidente’s towels, one thing rang out over the absurdity of groupmind aliens, spaceships disguised as planes, billion year racial feuds, and ancient calendrical systems: Reggie had been taken.
In my travels, I’ve discovered it’s best to just accept the chaos that the universe can throw at you, rolling with the cosmic punches and all that. But I draw the line at people harming the handful of things that are important to me, and my buffalito stands at the head of that list. I’d cooperate with the Uary for no other reason than to be present when the Svenkali assassin put in its next appearance with Reggie along as witness, but over and beyond their own goals and purposes, I would have an accounting.
I returned to find that either I’d taken longer than I’d imagined or that the hotel staff was just that good. Nikos and Juan Sho were sitting down at a wheeled table spread with a white linen cloth and crowded with an array of covered plates and place service for four.
Nikos waved me to a seat. “Excellent timing, Mr. Conroy. Please, fill a plate and I will begin to fill your ears.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your payment,” he said and held out a hand, palm up, to reveal a pair of simple silver rings. Sho grinned and selected one, placing it immediately on the middle finger of his right hand. I took the remaining ring and let it rest on my palm; too heavy to be silver.
“Platinum?” I said.
The Uary shook his head and gestured at Sho as he turned to me. “Not actually, nor is either of them really a ring. These devices are composed of interlocking nanoids possessing a platinum chitin that facilitates signal transfer at the necessary speeds as well as providing a surprisingly good interface with a wide range of sapients, humans included.”
“I have no idea what any of that means.”
“They’re to help you with your hypnotic regression.”
“Okay, you need to understand something. Hypnotic regression, it doesn’t work like you think it does. It has therapeutic value in some cases, but as a metaphor to help a hypnosis client get in touch with different aspects of their personality and potential. They don’t actually tap into past lives. And even those who claim to be able to do that, they’re talking about reincarnation of the spirit, not direct biological lineage like you’re after.”
Nikos was giving me that broad grin of his again. “We know that, Mr. Conroy. We understand that the hypnotic regression is only a psychological component. Thus, we add the rings.” He pointed to the one I held.
“And how is it going to help me to regress Mr. Sho?”
“His ring is busy cataloging his genetic provenance and correlating the string of his ancestors with markers that exist in the field of memory and personality that the Svenkali are able to tap into with nothing more than a unique name. After you have established the hypnotic trance, Mr. Sho has agreed to our injecting him with a drug that will facilitate access to his racial memories. At that point, you will attempt to recreate the technique Kwarum Sivtinzi Lapalla used with you. Your ring will link with the identifying information from Mr. Sho’s ring and make it available to your own nervous system, which will then guide his chemically primed consciousness. We believe the combination of factors will allow you to temporarily grant him access to the ancestor with whom we wish to speak, so we can learn the origin of their calendrical system.”
I shook my head. “Channeling my dead aunt was a one-time event. Kwarum doubted I could do it again. And I’ve tried it a few times in the years since, but without results.”
“I know this,” said Nikos. “I was on Hesnarj because of Kwarum. He thought it was a place likely to be free of other Svenkali, as they have no use for sharing planets — let alone eternal resting places — with other races. Having already been ostracized by his people, he was working with the Uary to explore other possible ways to ensure some portion of him would endure after his death. We met several times, our last was shortly after your own encounter with him. He revealed to me that humans are one of the galaxy’s few races that can manage the Svenkali trick of channeling the dead, even if only once or twice. Since then, the Uary have been exploring ways to expand that possibility. These rings are the prototype of our efforts, and yours also serves as payment. The Uary believes there is a high probability that success will reactivate your ability.”
“Don’t be so skeptical, Mr. Conroy,” said Juan Sho. “They told me you encountered aliens on a regular basis in your career. This can’t be your first time running into Clarke’s second law.”
I frowned. Ever since the end of the Mayan calendar and the realization that the galaxy was a lot smaller and more interesting than we’d ever dreamt, science fiction had experienced a renaissance. I’d read my share, but the hard science variety hadn’t really appealed to me. I vaguely remembered Clarke as a name associated with early satellites and Sri Lanka and some rules that people invoked every time an alien race showed up with something new and shiny.
“Was that the one about unfamiliar technology looking like magic?” I asked.
“That’s the third law. The second says, ‘The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.’”
I turned to Nikos. “Is that what we’re doing, venturing into the impossible?”
He spread his hands in an all too human gesture. “It is fair to say that nothing like this has been attempted before, Mr. Conroy. But such efforts and pursuits are a common pa
rt of Uary existence.”
Nicole arrived just as we were finishing breakfast.
“Did anyone see you come here?” I asked.
“I think so. I made several stops along the way and did my best to leave a clear trail.”
I was halfway across the room towards her with no clear idea what I intended to do once I reached her but she brought me up short with a raised hand and the words, “You do want your buffalito back, don’t you?”
Nikos stood. “We have a plan, you know.”
She nodded. “A simple trap. A sequence of stun grenades that will trigger after Lorsca enters the suite, a sufficient quantity to leave it incapacitated for thirty hours. More than enough time for us to complete the project and depart.”
“How does that get me Reggie?”
“Our assassin will have Reggie with it when it arrives here,” she said.
“And be on the receiving end of thirty hours worth of stun!”
“Mr. Conroy, there are few things in the galaxy more durable than an Arconi buffalo dog. Even assuming your pet succumbs to the stun, the worst effect he will experience is a period of unconsciousness.”
“And then what?”
“After we have left you can come here and collect your animal. Even if Lorsca has awakened, you’ll have nothing to fear; you are not among its targets. And we will have moved on.”
“Why not come back yourselves, and deal with it once and for all? Why keep running?”
Nikos joined Nicole at the door and as I looked into his eyes I could truly believe he was eighteen hundred years old.
“The Uary is incapable of violence, Mr. Conroy. Each of us is part of a vaster archive than exists anywhere else in our galaxy, but I can no more cause harm to another sapient being than you can engage in dialogue with the cells of your body. Not even to one who has dedicated its long life to eradicating my kind. We cannot defeat the Svenkali, we can only escape it for a time and continue our work.”
“Would you care for something to eat first?” asked Juan Sho.
Nicole smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, no. I obtained a light meal at one of my stops. Now, if you please, a cab, the first of several, is waiting for us downstairs.”
‘Several cabs’ turned out to be eight. We’d exit from one and as soon as it drove off Nicole or Nikos would hail another and we’d continue on. We crisscrossed the city of Veracruz several times in this way. I suppose if I had an assassin who would stop at nothing to track and kill me that I’d be paranoid too. Then again, it’s not paranoia when someone’s really after you.
We finally arrived at what was basically a private park. Nicole had somehow arranged the use of a vast bit of green space kept clear in the middle of a small forest on the estate of some wealthy and powerful personage in Veracruz.
The Uary believed that a natural setting would facilitate what we were attempting. Tall trees surrounded us on all sides, hiding the buildings of the land’s owner. The eighth cab had dropped us off at a locked gate that had yielded to a series of codes Nicole had ready. We entered the estate, walked a good quarter mile down a dirt drive, and then angled off into the adjacent trees.
After about five minutes of walking through the woods, we passed a small relay station, one of a dozen which, according to Nicole, defined an early alert sensory ring. She tapped out a sequence on her padd, activating the device as we passed within its perimeter, and ran a diagnostic. We kept walking until we left the trees behind and reached the center of a glade. If anything intended to disturb us, the sensory ring would let us know, and even if that failed we’d see it coming.
In addition to her padd, Nicole and Nikos both carried large wicker baskets of assorted gear, including additional food and drink, the first hint of how long their endeavor might take. We settled in as for a picnic. Juan Sho and I sat across from one another on a blanket Nicole spread for us on the grass. Then she and Nikos sat behind Sho, silent and immobile and out of his view. The Uary nodded to me in unison. I thought about Reggie, wondered if he were scared or just taking it all in stride, if the Svenkali saw him as a living being that it should feel responsibility for, or more like an inanimate object that it needed to bring along as it finished its mission. Either way, I couldn’t do a thing about it. I nodded to Sho.
“Are you ready?”
He grinned at me, his weak chin aquiver with excitement. “I’ve never been more ready in my life. In a couple hours I’m going to have access to recipes no other human being has seen. Let’s do this.”
“That’s fine. Just relax. Rest your hands lightly in your lap. Take a deep breath in, hold it, that’s right, now let it out. Bring your eyes to mine, focus on them, and let the world around us fade from your awareness…”
I continued with a straightforward induction, keeping the tone of things light but not flashy; no snappy patter or clever quips. This wasn’t a stage show and my goal wasn’t entertainment. Sho slipped into a light trance without resistance and in short order I took him considerably deeper.
I nodded to Nikos who soundlessly rose to his feet, coming forward to hover just above Juan Sho. He’d taken a pressure hypo from one of the baskets and now applied the business end to my subject’s neck. The sorghum executive winced but did not otherwise react or awaken. So far, so good.
Deeper and deeper I guided Sho into his trance, blocking out all other frames of reference or competing stimuli. My voice was the only thing in his entire world, the source of everything that existed. I took him down to the point where I could instruct him to regress, reach back, and begin to confabulate past lives.
But it wasn’t going to be like that. I took his hands lightly in mine, holding them so that our rings touched.
“Juan Sho, we are going to go on a voyage now, not of distance but of time. We are traveling backwards down your family tree. As we slide, from one ancestor to the next, you will briefly experience that life. With each generation you will find the connection growing stronger. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Let go of your sense of self, and merge with the memory of your father. You know the man, you can feel him inside you as we step backwards in time.”
Deep in his trance Sho murmured. “I’m my father.”
“Very good. Now we're letting go again. That was just a stop on the way. Let go of your father's memories and slip back another generation. Your grandfather's memories are all around you. Reach out, wrap them close.”
“We're in Guatemala,” said Sho.
“Your grandfather is in Guatemala?”
“Yes. My grandfather. And you.”
Pronouns are funny. I hadn't intended it, but Sho was taking me along with him. No problem. One of the first things I learned as a stage performer is to work with whatever your subject gives you. There are no glitches, only unplanned features.
“That’s right. I’m there because I’m your guide on this journey. I’m going to introduce you to many people. Now, let go of your grandfather's memories, and reach back still further to his father. Rise up through them like a diver swimming upwards to break the water's surface. The water is his memory, his sense of self. And it is vast, deep as a mountain lake. It doesn't matter where your surface, you are somewhere in his life's memory.”
“Yes, that’s true. I am.”
“Where are you? What are you doing?”
“I am carving.”
“What are you carving?”
“Puppets. I am carving puppets. For my son's birthday. We are having a party. Will you come too?”
“I'd be delighted. But wait, it's time to move on. This too was just a stop for us. Let go, dive down again, plunge deeper. Reach back again, and slip to his father's memories and find yourself surfacing again a generation further back...”
I continued like this, slowly easing him along a patrilineal line of ancestors, and each time Sho's mind added me to the scene. I wondered what he thought of me, an eternal friend of his father's side of the family, always present in ever
y generation. It had to be eerie.
Sho became more adept at leaping into one ancestor after another, but even so it was slow going. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Nicole had moved closer. She held her padd in one hand and a stylus in the other, taking notes and checking off each generation as we eased backward.
After two hours, I had guided him back through eighty-nine generations. More grandfathers than would fit in our suite back at the El Presidente had been invoked and then sent on their way. Through it all Sho had responded in English, a language most of his ancestors couldn't have known. How then, could the Uary believe him to be truly regressing into the memories of earlier generations when all the while he retained a fluent command of a language that should have long ceased being his native tongue?
“Very good, Mr. Conroy,” said Nicole. “Now we can ask him.”
“I don't think so. You said your drug made him more sensitive to racial memory, whatever that means, but I don't think you've got the real deal here.”
She gave a knowing — and perhaps somewhat condescending — smile. “The drug was what allowed him to follow your instructions, to track his lineage back generation through generation, nothing more. Does he not believe he is his ancestor? Does he not know with a certainty that he is a high priest of the Mayan people?”
“Yeah, that's all true as far as it goes, but that's only because he's so suggestible. He's going along with what he's been told, and he may even believe it, but it's all confabulation.”
“Oh, we understand that,” said Nikos. “But that is why you are here, Mr. Conroy. His belief, however false, is still solid in his mind. Think of it as a clearing.”
“What do you mean, a clearing?”
“A clearing for the real thing,” said Nicole. “A space in his mind and personality that calls to the ancestor we wish to question, that is shaped to that one individual. And now, if you are ready, we want you to use the technique you acquired from the Svenkali to invoke Mr. Sho's ancestor, and land him in this clearing.”
Calendrical Regression Page 4
