Crucible of Time Read online

  The Ocellet flicked her right hand open toward Ruall. “I believe when our people have seen the images of what just happened—you did take images, didn’t you—?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I believe they will see the wisdom.” She bowed to Ruall. “Please—get us back to Karellia as quickly as you can.”

  ***

  It took several hours to maneuver to the other main launcher, on the opposite side of the planet, and two minutes to destroy it. After that, The Long View set course for Karellia. Dark flanked them, more or less, though from time to time she ranged off through the nebula, searching for Mindaru, or maybe just scouting the territory. Akura spent considerable time communicating with the Uduon leadership, and she reported that there were no asteroids in flight. Ruall accepted that statement, though it was clear she intended to scan continuously on the flight back, to verify.

  Li-Jared was starting to feel like a veteran of the back-and-forth trip. He spent much of the time talking with Quin. If they were related, even distantly across multiple generations, he wanted to get to know her at least a little during this enforced waiting period, and maybe learn something of his own family lore. Quin wanted to talk, too, but her reasons were more urgent. That evening, after everyone else had left the commons, she fixed him with a penetrating, blue-green gaze.

  “Li-Jared, I need to know that the people of Karellia can trust you.” She raised a hand to stop his protest before he could even draw a breath. “I’m not talking about myself. I do trust you. But there are others, powerful people, whom I must persuade to trust you. This is not just about our personal relationship; it is about ending a war; it is about lowering our defenses. This is no easy thing to contemplate.”

  “I know,” Li-Jared began. “But you have seen—”

  “Yes, I have seen the Mindaru, and I fear them. But my council has not. They must trust me when I vouch for you. We may be cousins, but there is a gulf of time and experience between us.”

  Li-Jared gazed at her evenly for a long minute. Finally he flicked his fingertips outward to her, and laid his hands palm-up on the table. “Ask me what you want to know.”

  ***

  What she wanted to know was pretty much everything that had happened to him since his mysterious disappearance from Karellia, hundreds of years before she was born. Rubbing his chest unconsciously, he told her: of his abduction to the astounding place called Shipworld, and his subsequent meeting and partnering with Ik, and later Bandicut and his robots, and Antares. “I think they are the most loyal and trustworthy companions I have ever had,” Li-Jared declared, thinking, I have never said that to anyone, not even to them.

  Quin wanted to know about their missions together, and why, if they were so trustworthy, Ik and Antares were not here with him. He told her, and it took a pot and a half of jorrel tea between them to get through his condensed account. He lingered on the details of the Starmaker mission, because that was where they had first encountered the Mindaru, at least by that name. He did wonder, sometimes, if they were in any way connected to the boojum that had nearly crippled Shipworld, or the adversary that had threatened the sea world of the Neri. Quin’s eyes were bright as she listened to him. She seemed genuinely moved by the risks Li-Jared and his friends had taken on behalf of people they didn’t even know, and he found himself thinking, Did we really do all that? Retelling it to her now, it all seemed hard to believe. Was this a point of connection, or pride, that she might use in “vouching for” him? Karellian scientist becomes galactic hero . . .

  She did not say anything like that to him directly, but her body language softened as he spoke, and he gradually acquired the distinct feeling that he was talking to kin once more, rather than to an interrogator.

  Finally he had to ask her: “What happened after I left Karellia? Did anyone miss me? Did my work come to anything? How did you come to be leader of the planet?”

  Quin hissed a quiet laugh, in spite of the gravity of their situation. “It would take days to tell you all that. And remember, most of this was before my time.”

  “Tell me something,” he pleaded.

  With a hint of dry humor, Quin said, “I think your cousin Sari—or should I say my great-great-great-great-grandmother Sari?—might have missed you. And some of your colleagues who were waiting for you to finish work on your time research.” He gulped and nodded, waiting for more. Quin waggled her hands in a shrug. “As I told you before, you apparently became something of a legend, so yes, I think people missed you, and your work was seen to be important.”

  “In what way?” He was trying not to tremble now, but he couldn’t help it. To finally be in reach of learning what had happened in his absence . . .

  Quin whispered a sigh and rested her right hand on his left for a moment. He quivered at the touch, a connection across the centuries. “I wish I could tell you everything. But Li-Jared, it is not my field. Perhaps, when this is all over, I can find a scholar to help you learn all about it.”

  He twitched again, hopes receding.

  Quin released his hand and added, “From the records I saw very briefly, it seemed that some of your colleagues thought there was something almost magical about you and your work.” She tapped the back of his hand again. “Or perhaps you just owed them money,” she added wryly.

  He stared at her in disbelief for several long heartbeats—and then he decided she was joking, and they both hissed in laughter.

  As they talked, Li-Jared began to feel as if he might truly be returning home. It was a very strange feeling. He had never quite felt at home in his own life, even when he was living on Karellia. On Shipworld, with the friendship of his newfound company, he had discovered a kind of belonging that he’d never known before. He had mostly stopped thinking about any chance of returning to Karellia. But now, here he was forming a new bond, a familial and collegial bond, that felt different.

  They were brewing their third pot of tea when Akura came into the commons to get something to drink. “Oh,” she said, in halting Karellian. “I am . . . sorry to intrude.”

  “No, it is all right,” Quin said gently. “Would you please join us? And call Sheeawn? I think perhaps we all have a lot to talk about.”

  ***

  When The Long View exited the Clouds of Fire once more, with Karellia approaching fast, everyone gathered on the bridge to decide how to handle the next step. Ruall’s view was that Quin’s word ought to be sufficient to change Karellia’s policy regarding the temporal shield—and if it wasn’t, well, the Karellians had been warned. But Li-Jared doubted that gaining the Karellian government’s full cooperation would happen that seamlessly, a view confirmed by the Ocellet. They had Quin’s word, yes, and she was already using the comm to talk to Aylen and other trusted counselors. But Quin was not an absolute ruler. She had Koro’s backing, and his supporters were to some degree a different group from her own base; but that was still no guarantee that shutting down the defensive shield wouldn’t spark a movement to topple her leadership.

  “We need to go back down to the planet with her,” Li-Jared said to Bandicut. “Quin’s seriously worried about opposition to her decision, and that’s not something we can really deal with from up here in orbit.”

  Bandicut raised his hands. “Your world, your people. Whatever you think.”

  Li-Jared rubbed his chest, considering the question. “Actually,” he said, “I think maybe you should stay here with Akura and Sheeawn. We might need to bring them down later. But right now, I’m afraid they’d just be caught in the middle of a political hurricane. I don’t think bringing them down into the middle of it will help.”

  Ruall floated up alongside them, reverberating softly. “At the risk of agreeing with my Karellian colleague, I agree. Li-Jared should handle that while you, John Bandicut, serve as liaison here. The less we confuse the issue the better, I think. Besides, we might not be done with the Mindaru.”

  “That’s just what I was saying,” Li-Jared began, nonplussed by th
e idea of Ruall actually agreeing with him.

  “Are you ready to board the landing craft?” Ruall asked.

  “Uhh . . .” They were still well outside the range of the Karellian space forces and the temporal shield. “Aren’t you going to get us closer first?”

  “You should be on your way as soon as possible. We’ll take you inside the defensive screen. But then we must be off in the other direction. We must be positioned to intercept any other Mindaru coming out of the starstream.”

  Li-Jared didn’t like the idea of leaving his friends to face more Mindaru without him. But it seemed the best option. He glanced at Akura, wondering if it would be better after all to take the Uduon down and spare them the danger of another firefight. But no—they had been through it and made the decision, and Akura looked satisfied. “All right,” he said.

  Jeaves broke in from the console near Copernicus. “Sorry, but this just in: One of our remotes has detected another object in the direction of the starstream, heading this way—probably another Mindaru. We’ve asked Dark to go take a look.”

  Li-Jared swore. “Moon and stars! Quin? Koro? Are you ready for a ride down to the surface?”

  Ocellet Quin responded at once. “We will get our things now. Yes, Commander Koro?” She gazed out the viewspace, perhaps to enjoy one last time the stunning view of the slowly growing ball that was her homeworld. The luminous energy clouds curved around behind the planet, as though enfolding it in a blanket.

  Koro coughed sharply, once, getting her attention. “Shall we communicate our intentions to the defense forces before we fly in across their protection zone?”

  “A good idea,” said Quin. “A very good idea,”

  ***

  By the time she’d alerted the planetary defenses to their approach, and issued a call for a meeting of the defense board immediately upon her return, the planet had grown visibly in the viewspace. They’d passed through the time-shield with barely a ripple, thanks to Copernicus’s increasing mastery of the interface. Li-Jared beckoned to her and to Koro, and with a bow to the Uduon, Ruall, and the robots, they left the bridge and made their way back to the docking bay.

  Bandicut walked with them. “Can you fly this crate, if you need to?” he asked, as Li-Jared paused at the craft’s hatch.

  Li-Jared rubbed his jaw, waiting for Quin and Koro to get aboard. “I think so,” he said quietly. “But I won’t need to, will I? If I had to, wouldn’t that mean we were about to die anyway?”

  Bandicut looked thoughtful. “Probably true,” he conceded. “But don’t worry, the autopilot on this thing is rock solid. And if it goes out—well, maybe Bria can fly it.”

  Li-Jared shivered, wondering if the gokat had slipped aboard. She seemed capable of just about everything else. With a hissing sigh, he reached out and clasped Bandicut’s hands. “Don’t you worry, Bandie. We’ll get this straightened out down there, and be back up to help you with the Mindaru. All right?”

  “I’ll be looking for you,” Bandicut said. He tightened his grip on Li-Jared’s hands. “I promised Ik I’d look out for you.”

  “Me too,” said Li-Jared. Then he turned and ducked through the door of the little spacecraft.

  ***

  The little vessel dropped away and streaked across their field of view and twinkled out of sight in the direction of Karellia. Bandicut sighed and said to no one in particular, “What’s the word from out by the starstream?”

  Jeaves answered immediately, “The word is, we must make another intercept. Dark has just confirmed the second Mindaru. This one is solid already, probably preparing to fight. But that means we have something to shoot at.”

  Bandicut felt a sourness in his stomach. “Ah, man. So soon? Is Dark going to be here to give us an assist?”

  “She’s begun a wide sweep, to reconnoiter the area around the starstream and see if there are others. She’ll be back soon.”

  Bandicut sighed, suddenly deeply missing Charli. /Where are you, my friend?/ There was, alas, no answer. With Li-Jared gone, he had no one to talk to but two robots and a Tintangle. Well, also the Uduon, who were resting now in their quarters. He regretted the need to have them here, if their immediate future was to face repeated, deadly confrontations. It was one thing to make them viscerally aware of the danger. But he hadn’t really meant to expose them to the enemy again and again.

  He noticed that Copernicus had already put them on a fast course in the direction of the starstream and the incoming Mindaru. “Battle plan?” he asked.

  Ruall made a rumbling sound. “I am open to suggestions. Our previous plans did not seem overly effective.”

  “Except when Bria took charge.”

  Gong. Her voice sounded distressed; she wasn’t happy about the reminder of the danger to the gokat. “I do not plan for that to happen again.”

  “Agreed.” Bandicut had no immediate suggestion, but he bent his thoughts to the question. They probably couldn’t expect Dark to grab every Mindaru and hold them for shooting practice. He wondered how many would be coming. Somehow, he didn’t think it would be just one more.

  There was little to see in the viewspace, just Karellia shrinking to a little ball behind them, and empty-looking space ahead. Somewhere out there was the second Mindaru. It had taken on solid form, so it was ready for a fight. Had it received reports from the first one? Or did they always expect an attack? Perhaps that was part of their makeup.

  Bandicut recalled what Jeaves had told them about the origins of the Mindaru. They were believed to have been born from the ashes of the most terrible war in galactic history—the survivors of deadly fighting machines that had been pounded to radioactive dust. They were the unexpected remnant that had come back for revenge. Or more precisely, as Jeaves had suggested, to eradicate organic life, set off as many supernovas as possible, and wait for the universe to become more completely seeded with heavy elements and thus hospitable to machine life. They seemed to be nothing if not single-minded.

  Did that help him better understand how to defeat them?

  Not really.

  “John Bandicut, you look thoughtful. Do you have thoughts?” Ruall called.

  He realized he’d been standing defiantly with his arms crossed over his chest, lips puckered as though he were working out the final details of a plan to destroy the enemy. If only it were so. Bandicut cleared his throat, unfolded his arms. “We have to nail it before it knows what hit it.”

  “And? How might we do that?”

  He turned his palms up. “That’s all I have so far.”

  Ruall made a thrumming sound that he imagined was disgust. Finally she spun away and returned to her conversation with Copernicus. Bandicut shrugged and went to fortify himself with some strong coffee.

  ***

  A long-range probe confirmed tracking on the Mindaru moving through n-space, and precisely aimed for an intercept of the planet Karellia. Ruall set them back on battle alert status and put the weapons on standby. She called Bandicut back to the bridge and asked for his newly considered thoughts on dealing with the adversary.

  “I was hoping you had it figured out,” Bandicut said, meaning every word. “Any more word from Dark? Will she join us for the fight?”

  Copernicus replied, “She believes there are more Mindaru—but to find them, she must keep searching around the possible starstream exit points.”

  “That could take a while. So she’s not coming unless we scream for help?”

  “For now, no.”

  Bandicut scratched his side, thinking. “What do we have that we can use at long range?”

  Ruall answered. “We have intelligent missiles. But the Mindaru would likely detect their power trace. Unless . . . we approach at speed, and drop them . . .”

  Bandicut’s eyes widened. “And let them just coast in, silent and dark. And then, boom.” He smiled. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

  “High praise,” said Ruall, making Bandicut wonder if she was actually learning to use humor. “That is
what we shall do, then. Copernicus, prepare for a high-speed pass.”

  “Sir, yes sir,” said the robot.

  ***

  Several hours later, two dark objects dropped from the spacecraft and fell away through the strange void that was n-space. They would take better than an hour to reach their target. When Jeaves reported the missile tracks satisfactory, Ruall called for a course change for The Long View—enough to ease them well clear of the Mindaru, but keeping them between it and Karellia.

  Now they could only wait.

  Bandicut felt exceptionally twitchy, sitting by himself in the commons with a huge mug of coffee, and not just because he was nervous about yet another fight with a Mindaru. There was something about this leg of the mission: he had too much time to think. Damn, but he already missed Li-Jared, his nervous, jumpy, brilliant friend. And Charli, of course, always Charli. Was she really dead for good? Or alive, lost somewhere in space without a host? What an end to a lifetime that spanned millions of years!

  And Antares, Ik, and Napoleon. Oh, how he missed Antares! For most of this trip, he had managed to keep her mostly out of his thoughts. But now, his heart aching, he could not stop thinking about her. What he wouldn’t give right now to hold her in his arms, to feel her gaze, and her empathic touch warming his spirits and his soul. He felt more alone, and lonely, than he had since that first, nerve-wracking journey with the quarx, the journey that started at Neptune and ended at the terribly strange Shipworld, alien and immense. The memory gave him a shiver.

  He yearned for a way to contact Shipworld and discover what Antares was doing, and whether she had ever found Ik. He longed to tell them about his and Li-Jared’s struggles and their progress so far, and about the loss of Charli. More than anything, he longed to share his heartache with Antares! And even—but no, Julie Stone was far in the past, hundreds of years gone, with everyone else he had known.