Crucible of Time Read online

  Li-Jared flicked his fingers. “I will be.” He turned his own head. “Coppy? Jeaves? Do we know when we’ve arrived?”

  Jeaves made some whirring sounds. “Sorry, it took me a minute to locate the time signal. It looks as though we were gone for about two months, Shipworld time. In days, that’s about fifty—”

  “Thank you, I can multiply.” Li-Jared turned to Bandicut, his face alight with relief. “We’re still in the present!”

  Bandicut grinned. He called out, “What about our friends? Are they back, too?”

  “Still trying to find that out, Cap’n,” answered Copernicus.

  “Keep on it! Is anyone here to meet us?”

  “We are to be met,” Jeaves said. “I’m just not sure by whom.”

  ***

  Their greeter and escort turned out to be a halo, a floating ring of light that reminded Bandicut of Delilah, the halo who had accompanied them on their Starmaker mission. The halo reported that she was going to take Bandicut, Li-Jared, Ruall, and Jeaves back to see the Peloi, the sea creatures who had sent them on the mission. Copernicus interrupted to request his own release from the ship. “I have done my duty here,” the robot said. “Since my integration with the ship’s AI has been dissolved, I believe my destiny lies with my friends and companions.”

  Bandicut voiced his support at once. “He is right. Copernicus is with us, and custody—if that means anything—should be returned to me. In fact, I insist on it.”

  The halo hung in the air for a moment, perhaps communicating with someone. Then it bobbed, brightened momentarily, and chimed, “Copernicus is released as a free agent, and may join the party to visit the Peloi. Shall we go?”

  Floating luminous before them, the halo led them out of the ship into the hangar area. Bandicut turned to look back at the glowing orange lozenge that was The Long View. Though he was heartily sick of being cooped up in her n-space hull, he felt wistful at leaving. She was a good ship and had served them well. He wondered if they would ever fly on her again. Li-Jared was watching him, his eyes glinting; he suspected the Karellian had at least some similar feelings. Even Copernicus, tapping, had turned to look back. Ruall was spinning, stopping, spinning, stopping; it was impossible to tell what she was feeling. To the halo, Bandicut said, “Will we be coming back for our stuff?”

  Chime. “It will be brought to you. Now, please come.”

  Copernicus punctuated the request with what sounded like a snare-drum rim shot, and they all trooped across the hangar. The halo led them to a group-sized portal, and they passed through together. And with that simple stride, Bandicut thought, they had just left their mission behind.

  ***

  The halo brought them to a small anteroom, which Bandicut recognized as the entry to the cave of the Peloi. A light glimmered far back in the cave, and the halo led them into the much larger cavern, where invisible ocean-tank walls held back unknown tons of water, dimly lit from within. “You will be met here,” the halo said, and vanished.

  Behind the invisible panes, shadowy movement could be seen in the turbid depths, just out of easy sight. Bandicut gazed into the gloom, waiting for someone to notice their presence. Finally he called, “Ho, Peloi!”

  One of the shadows floated just a little nearer. “We see you,” echoed a voice from somewhere. “Please be patient.” And then the shape receded into the shadowy depths.

  Bandicut gave it a few moments, and when the Peloi did not return, he called again. “Excuse me—but we have come a very long way! We have others we urgently wish to see, and many questions. We are tired, and our patience is in short supply!”

  Apparently that was enough to get the Peloi’s attention, because several shapes floated out of the shadows and resolved into the giant, colorful comb-jellies they had spoken with before their flight. Or at least they looked like the same jellies; Bandicut could not really tell. “Hello,” he said, raising his voice. “We understand that you wanted to see us. I guess you’d like to hear the results of our mission?”

  “We have absorbed your filed report,” said one of the Peloi, surging forward, a shimmering blue shape in the water. Then, as they had done in their previous meeting, that Peloi floated back and another came forward to continue, “We wish to hear it now in your own words. Your story and personal impressions.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Bandicut said. “We reported it in our own words.”

  “Yes, of course,” said a copper-colored giant anemone, floating forward. “What we mean is, we want to know more than the bare facts. We desire your personal impressions.”

  “Your emotions, if you will,” said another. “The certainties and uncertainties of dealing with this foe. The Mindaru.”

  “Of negotiating peace with the others. Of forming the alliance.”

  “Why do you need all that now?” Bandicut asked, feeling a twinge of exasperation. “You know, don’t you, that at the moment it’s more urgent to us that we find our friends than stand here sharing all of the subtleties of our interactions with the Mindaru!”

  “Yes, yes!” Still another Peloi. “We can help with all that. As soon as we have absorbed what we can of your details, while they are fresh . . .”

  Ruall clanged. “They are fresh! They will remain fresh! What is it you really want?

  “What we want,” said the Peloi, and it sounded like several speaking in unison, “is to touch and feel. Would that be permitted?”

  “Well, I don’t know—” Bandicut began.

  “What does that mean?” Li-Jared asked.

  “Yes—” clang “—if it will finish this!” Ruall chimed.

  “So it will be, then,” said the Peloi, apparently taking Ruall’s response as the final one.

  Before any of them could protest, a new pulse of bioluminescence shot through the water. The chamber illumination darkened, but the light from the depths of the water grew in intensity and flashed around them in enveloping rings.

  Bandicut felt suddenly lightheaded, and physically immobile. The light was doing something to his mind, penetrating like sharp vapors. He began to feel his memories bubble up in quick-moving images that billowed out of his head and flashed out to join the external light patterns. At first it felt unreal, and then he knew he was not imagining it; these really were his memories being pulled from his mind, and they included everything—not just the battles with the Mindaru, but Ik’s vanishing, Antares splitting away with Napoleon, the meetings with Dakota, negotiations with the Uduon and Karellians, and the loss of Charli, and Bria. An unregulated flood of memories of the trip, fiery with fringes of emotional content, bubbled up into the halo of light and directly to the Peloi, who absorbed them silently.

  Bandicut expelled his breath in a gasp. He had undergone assisted memory dumps before, but never had it felt so abrupt, so invasive—so starkly revealing. Each memory had distinct emotions attached to it, and those emotions, even the ones he would have kept private, sparkled and danced for all the Peloi to see. He doubled over, holding his head with his hands, trying to control the flow. It was impossible; all boundaries of privacy were stripped away. His fingertips burned; his thoughts were on fire. It lasted for a minute, two minutes, ten, a hundred; he couldn’t tell. And as suddenly as it had started, the fire died away.

  He rasped in a deep breath, and pushed against his knees to come back upright. The circles of light in the water were fading away. Beside him, Li-Jared was staggering, blinking, slapping his chest with both hands. Ruall was spinning, moaning; after a moment, her spinning started to slow down.

  Li-Jared grunted, “Do that again, and I will be very angry.”

  And Bandicut, lightheaded, panted indignantly, “Who . . . gave you . . . permission to do . . . that?”

  Two shapes loomed. “Ruall said—” “Did you not—?”

  “I did not,” Bandicut said tightly, though it was clear they had taken Ruall’s consent as consent for all. “Why did you need all that, anyway? Why did you have to be so . . . personal?”


  The Peloi drifted forward and back. “Personal . . . yes. It is important to understand the feelings around important event points. Decision markers. Mission choices . . .”

  Bandicut waved wearily, trying to cut them off.

  “Encounters . . .”

  “Stop!” he groaned. “Are you trying to tell me you care how we feel? Did you care when you split us off from our friends, and send them on different missions?” His temper was starting to heat up again.

  “We did.” “We do.” “But not all do.”

  “So you care, but you did it anyway?”

  “Moon and stars!” Li-Jared muttered, bouncing up and down.

  “No, no—we did not!” A new Peloi was in the fore now, and this one came closer, and lingered. “Those things were done by others! We want to know how you feel about those who would do those things. A government that would do those things.”

  My feelings about the government? Bandicut thought dizzily, in amazement.

  “We feel pretty damn furious, that’s how we feel,” Li-Jared said, stepping forward in what looked like a fighter’s stance, knees bent and fists clenched. “We think a government like that is pretty damn stupid, for one thing. Breaking up our team? Sending out two uncoordinated missions? Even if those hadn’t been our friends on the other mission, it would have been stupid.”

  The Peloi crowded closer, all of them.

  Something flickered inside the nearest one, all crimson and orange flame, with a hint of shuddering violet. Anger? About Li-Jared’s comments? Bandicut wondered. He waited a heartbeat, and then said, “Li-Jared’s words are strong, but—”

  “We agree with them,” said the Peloi. The flickering was rippling out to the others, like a wave passing into the depths. Another Peloi spoke: “We were angry, too.” And another: “That is why we needed to know not just of your mission, but what you did, saw, felt, left behind.”

  Bong. “So you really were not the ones responsible?” Li-Jared asked. He was moving his hands in front of him as he spoke. Gesturing anger? Or beckoning to the Peloi to respond?

  “We were shamed, shocked,” said the most distant of the Peloi, a dark blue one, floating forward now into view.

  “Is that really true?” Li-Jared demanded. “Then why did you allow it—?”

  “Are you not aware of the limits of our power?” asked the dark Peloi. “We work for the ruling circle; we are not part of it!”

  Bandicut started to speak, but had no real answer to that. He had somehow assumed they were among the mysterious masters. He was a little shocked to hear how they were speaking. They sounded almost rebellious.

  “Enough!” said a Peloi who had not yet spoken. “Let Amaduse explain to them!”

  “Agreed,” said the closest Peloi. And to Bandicut and the others: “Thank you. We have what we need. Now, would you like to speak to Amaduse?”

  Before any of them could react, a haze of purple light passed over them, and they were elsewhere.

  ***

  “What now?” Bandicut murmured, turning around. He stumbled, and caught himself. They were on a rocky path, outdoors. The sky was darkening but not yet dark—early evening in this sector, he guessed. It took a moment to recognize the path as the way to Amaduse’s place.

  Bong. “Bandie, is this—?”

  “Yes,” Bandicut said. “Hey—where are Ruall and the robots?”

  Ruall suddenly spun into their continuum. “Jeaves and Copernicus were kept behind for more questions,” she said. “They will be sent on later to join us. If you know this Amaduse, why are we standing here? Aren’t we going to go see him?”

  “Right. Let’s go,” said Bandicut, taking the lead in following the path over a rise. On the far side of the little hill, the trail led into a forest. Nestled at the edge of the forest was Amaduse’s house. The side door was cracked open, allowing a sliver of yellow light to escape into the gloom.

  Amaduse greeted them in the doorway; he apparently was expecting them. The serpentine creature’s white-hooded face was in shadow, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure. He backed away, hissing animatedly, to usher them into his front room—where he had welcomed them once before. The room was still dominated by a long work station along the window wall facing the woods. Small holos floated in the air over the work station. On the other side of the room, huge pillows were piled, apparently for sitting on. Once Bandicut’s eyes got used to the light, he realized that the illumination was low and reddish; and he remembered that the Logothian’s eyes were sensitive to light. “Thank you for seeing us,” he said. “It’s a relief to be back! I hope you have news for us.”

  Amaduse looked ready to invite them to flop on the pillows and take their rest, but once he saw their expressions, he changed his mind. “I am, sss, h-hoping,” he wheezed, “that you will be able to tell me all the details-s of your journey. But I think perhapss you might prefer if I talk firsst? About your friends-s?”

  “Yes, please!”

  Bwang. “Yes!”

  “Then—ssss—I will tell you w-what I can-n. Especially about what they have faced ssince coming back to Sh-shipworld.”

  “Then they are back! Are they safe?” Bandicut demanded. “Please just tell me that.”

  “They are ss-safe,” said Amaduse. “They have been away, and they have returned.”

  Bandicut sighed deeply and with feeling. “And Antares? And . . . Julie Stone?”

  “All of them—and your norg, your robot.” Amaduse paused to hiss his own long breath. “As I under-ssstand, the journey wass a clossse thing. But they all returned to ssssafety.”

  “I am pleased. We are pleased,” Ruall chimed, spinning rapidly.

  Bandicut’s heart thumped with pent-up fear cartwheeling into profound relief. Julie and Antares. Ik. Napoleon. The Logothian was gazing closely at him¸ perhaps finding Bandicut’s emotional response easier to gauge than the others’. Amaduse gestured fluidly with white-gloved hands to a wide holo-display area with nudger controls. “I apologize for not having displays ready for you, but it has been a challenge to gather the data. Becausse . . .” He paused and hissed a long sigh, shaking his hooded head in a swaying motion. “Well. Firssst, undersstand that there was agreement among the ruling circle that the threat—”

  “Wait—do you mean the ruling circle for all of Shipworld?” Li-Jared asked.

  “Yess. That is what the ruling circle is! As I sssay, agreement that the Mindaru threat had to be met. But much disagreement on how.”

  “And disagreement,” Ruall whirred, “spun into hostility?”

  The Logothian’s head bobbed again. “Unfortunately, yess. Especially animos-sity between those represented by the oness you just met with, the Peloi, and those who oversaw the mission down the timestream.” He massaged the controls on his display board. “The mission team are releasssing only incomplete bits, sss, hardly enough to put together a clear picture. For me, as a manager of information, that is frussstrating. However, I do have alternate channels, and I have gained some detailss.” He made an expansive gesture with his long-fingered hands.

  “Such as?” Bandicut prompted impatiently.

  “Sss . . . I can tell you that ssseveral major time-travel expeditionss were undertaken, two of them involving your friend Ik, and the human Julie S-stone. Antares and your robot Napoleon observed-d the last one. The risssk of the missions was considered high, and the mission team did not want knowledge of that risssk widely diss-seminated.”

  Bandicut felt weak in the knees, and he had to reach out to the work station to steady himself. “But they’re all . . . okay?” he gulped.

  “I said they were s-safe, did I not?” Amaduse’s eyes glinted in the light of the work station. “Let usss get down to your persssonal needs, which I perceive are high. Tell me, John Bandicut, do you know this human, this Julie S-stone?”

  “Oh yes! Yes. We were—” Bandicut began, and then his breath failed him. “Yes, I knew her,” he whispered. “She’s an—an important—friend.”<
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  Amaduse peered at him, perhaps reading his thoughts. “Then you would like to see her ssoon, if that could be arranged?”

  “Yes, of course! All of them! Can we?”

  Amaduse hissed cautiously and waved his hands in uncertainty. “It may not be easy. Ssss. We will have to find a—” rasp “—workaround.”

  Li-Jared reacted to that with flailing gestures of exasperation. “Why should it be hard?”

  “A good quess-tion.” The Logothian nodded gravely. “And yet it is.” He swung his hooded head back toward the work displays. “Becausse . . .” His fingers worked at the controls for a moment.

  “Because what?” Li-Jared demanded.

  Amaduse bobbed his head and gestured with an open hand. “The Galactic Core Mission team has-s other ideas.”

  Bandicut’s voice rose. “What kind of—?”

  “It seemss they have placed a quarantine re-ssstriction on your friends.”

  “Quarantine?” Bandicut cried. “Why? Did they bring back some alien virus? Contamination from the Mindaru?”

  “Ssss. Not that kind of quarantine.” Amaduse swung his serpentlike head from side to side, looking from his controls to Bandicut. “No, what they’ve brought back is more dangerouss, as the GCM team s-sees it. They brought information, and direct knowledge of the risssks of time travel—and that has frightened them.”

  Bandicut cocked his head, trying to follow. “So . . . they’re trying to hide the risks they took?”

  “Jus-sst so,” said Amaduse. “Not just the risssk to their crew, but to all of Sh-shipworld. All of reality, really. Ssss. The potential for time paradoxes—” Amaduse extended his left hand “—and the threat of the Mindaru—” and he extended his right hand. “The team did very well, from what I have gleaned, sss, but that was not guaranteed.”

  Bong. “Time paradoxes? What time paradoxes have you detected?”

  “None that I have ssseen.” Amaduse straightened a little. “My hope is that there are none.”

  Ruall gonged, floating forward. “How can we know?”