by Tim Pratt
“Thales. Thales. Thales.”
The voice was whispery, like crumpling paper, and Thales moaned. He’d heard that voice before – and its difficulty with, or amusement at, his assumed name.
That voice belonged to the Ghost of Creuss who’d destroyed his lab, so long ago.
Thales started to sit up in bed, then glimpsed the shape of the armored figure sitting on the cell’s one uncomfortable chair, and decided he was fine where he was – on his back, looking up at the ceiling, not at the creature. “Why are you here? I’m not meddling in your affairs any more. I’m in a box. Me, the man who was going to–”
“See.” The Creuss gestured, and light appeared on the ceiling, a vision in the darkness. Thales saw a star system, and nearby, a wormhole – not the misbegotten thing he’d made, but a real one: a bulging convex bubble in space-time.
“Acheron,” the Ghost whispered.
“Eh?” Thales said. “Never heard of it.”
The wormhole bulged, and burst out red light, like a popping blister. The planet below was torn apart by a cataclysmic twist in space-time, a piece of pottery smashed with a hammer, shards and fragments flying everywhere.
“Did you do this?” Thales said. “Your mistake this time, so much worse than mine?”
“Mahact,” the Ghost said.
“This is something that happened in the age of Mahact kings, then? Why are you showing me this? Why–”
“No. Now. This is now. See.”
Thales looked back at the – recording? Dramatization? Where the wormhole had been, there was something new, now – a long tear in the fabric of space, a ragged rift, very much like a wound. Beyond the wound there were writhings, and glimmerings, and light in an alien spectrum.
Thales whimpered. “There. Yes. That. It’s – what I saw, when I turned on my device. But, no… ours was smaller. That one, with the scale of the planet and the star… that rift is huge.”
“It grows,” the Ghost said.
Thales squinted. Yes, the rift did appear to be growing, both widening and lengthening, like someone pulling at a rip in a piece of cloth. The star began to distort and twist in the strange gravity, and other planets in the system started to crumble as well. “Why are you showing me this?” Thales said.
“See.”
The wound in reality began to spill out new forms. They were too small for Thales to make out at first, but the perspective moved closer, until the rift filled his whole field of vision. There were ships emerging from the tear, but not like any he’d seen before – these vessels were broken, twisted, organic things. There were creatures too, crawling and slithering and flying through the void, which should have been impossible – they were creatures with too many eyes or none at all, teeth and mouths in the wrong places, spines and fur and spikes and scales and feathers, sometimes all on one beast. But… were they ships, too? They couldn’t be individual creatures, the scale was all wrong, or else his perception was. None of this made sense, in terms of biology or physics or anything else, so – “This is an entertainment? Fiction? Some sort of horror vid–”
“Truth.” The Ghost shifted, and when Thales turned his head, the armored creature was kneeling beside his bed. One of its gauntleted hands touched his leg, and the metal was terribly cold. “Truth. Now.”
“What is it? What are they?”
“Vuil-raith,” the Creuss whispered.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“From outside.”
“Outside what?”
“Outside everything. Outside the universe.”
“That’s nonsense,” Thales said. “There’s nothing outside the universe.”
“Monsters are outside.”
Monsters. This coming from the Creuss, who were monsters, by most accounts. Thales glanced at the helmeted creature, so strange and blank… but the armor was broadly humanoid, wasn’t it? The Creuss made an attempt to take on a form that would be comprehensible to other beings in the galaxy, even though as energy creatures, any shape they took was optional. The things pouring through that rift – insofar as they resembled anything known in the galaxy – were the nightmares of a score of different species.
Something tumbled through the rift. A great burning wheel, with spokes of ragged bone. The hub a single bleeding eye. He’d seen that eye before.
“No,” Thales said. “My device. I got something wrong, and I didn’t open a wormhole at all. I opened a rift, to another place. One teeming with monsters. That’s what happened.”
“A crack. A glimpse. Yes. See.”
“And now you want my help.” Thales smiled in the dark. The Ghosts had come to him, because, expert as they were in wormhole technology, Thales was the first person to open an interdimensional rift – he was a pioneer in a whole new branch of physics. “Absolutely. Just get me out of here, and–”
“Fault.” The Creuss pointed at the rift – how was it still pouring out monsters, how could there be so many, and – and were they far away? Please, let that hole in space be far, far away from here.
“Yes? I suppose it is a bit like a fault line.”
“No. This is your fault.”
“How can it be my fault?”
“You opened the way.”
Thales shuddered. “Yes, I opened a crack, but not a great horrible gash like this–”
“You looked. The Vuil’raith looked back. They are still looking. They can see.”
“You’re saying those things only noticed us in the first place because of my invention?” His guts turned to ice. “And they’ve been, what? Waiting, ever since, all these years? Waiting for a chance to come through? A chance they have now, for some reason you haven’t bothered to explain?”
“Yes,” the Creuss said. “You see now. Your fault.”
Thales groaned. “But what do they want?”
The Ghost held up its armored hands about half a meter apart. “They are here.” It waved one hand. “We are here.” It waved the other. “They want this.” The Ghost slowly pushed its hands together, palm to palm, and then interlaced its fingers.
“They want to… bring our worlds together? But from what little I can see, their universe, or whatever it is, it’s incompatible with ours, the rules are different... That would destroy everything. That would turn this universe into hell.”
“Yes. You see. You were warned. You ignored our warning.”
“All right. I made a mistake. I know that. But I don’t know what you want me to do now.”
“You can do nothing. We can do something. We will do this.”
The Ghost stood up, turned its back to him, and stepped into the darkness.
“Do what?” Thales shouted. “What are you doing?”
He tried to get out of bed, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, he realized, because his legs were gone. He threw the sheet back, and grains of something like sand sprayed across the cell. He watched his thighs come apart, painlessly, swiftly, reduced to individual inert components, just like the contents of his lab, the first time the Creuss warned him, so long ago.
Soon, his body would be nothing but a thin layer of sand, scattered across the bunk and the cell floor.
No, he thought. No no no.
But then, at least he wouldn’t be around to see what this universe would become when the Vuil’raith were done with it. What hope did the galaxy have, against a threat like that?
Last words. He only had a moment to make his final statement, to sum up a life of potential greatness, viciously denied. But there was no one to hear what he said, no one to record it, no one to ponder a final wise exhalation, no one to appreciate him, no one had ever appreciated him–
“Idiots,” Thales said, and then his heart dissolved.
Return to
the void in…
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Ma
rc Gascoigne, who bought my first attempts at space opera, the Axiom trilogy, when he was at Angry Robot, and kindly thought of me for this gig too. Further thanks to the Aconyte team, especially Lottie Llewelyn-Wells and my editor Paul Simpson. My gratitude to the Twilight Imperium creative team, too; they created a wonderful world for me to play in and answered all my weird questions patiently. How about that artwork by Scott Schomburg, huh?
My agent, Ginger Clark, continues to offer invaluable professional support. My wife, Heather Shaw, and son, River, deliver top-notch personal support. River is twelve now, and great at games, though I haven’t gotten him into anything as long and involved as Twilight Imperium yet; we’ve done Fury of Dracula and Dead of Winter, though, so it’s only a matter of time.
My near and dear ones are always there for me, so thanks as always to Ais, Amanda, Emily, Katrina, and Sarah. My community of fellow writers is vast, but I’d like to especially thank Daryl Gregory, Jenn Reese and Chris East, Effie Seiberg (look, I dedicated this to you!), and Molly Tanzer for providing support and advice on matters of art and craft.
Finally, thanks to you readers. I hope this book is at least half as fun as the games you play.
About the Author
TIM PRATT is a Hugo Award-winning SF and fantasy author, and finalist for the World Fantasy, Sturgeon, Stoker, Mythopoeic, and Nebula Awards, among others. He is the author of over twenty novels, and scores of short stories. Since 2001 he has worked for Locus, the magazine of the science fiction and fantasy field, where he currently serves as senior editor.
timpratt.org
twitter.com/timpratt
By the Same Author
The Strange Adventures of Rangergirl
The Nex
Briarpatch
The Constantine Affliction
(as T. Aaron Payton)
Forgotten Realms:
Venom in Her Veins
Heirs of Grace
The Deep Woods
Marla Mason
(as T A Pratt)
Blood Engines
Poison Sleep
Dead Reign
Spell Games
Bone Shop
Broken Mirrors
Grim Tides
Bride of Death
Lady of Misrule
Queen of Nothing
Closing Doors
Do Better: The Marla Mason Stories
Pathfinder Tales
City of the Fallen Sky
Reign of Stars
Liar’s Blade
Liar’s Island
Liar’s Bargain
The Axiom
The Wrong Stars
The Dreaming Stars
The Forbidden Stars
Collections
Little Gods
If There Were Wolves
Hart & Boot & Other Stories
Antiquities and Tangibles & Other Stories
The Christmas Mummy and Other Carols
(with Heather Shaw)
Miracles & Marvels
Table of Contents
Cover
Twilight Imperium
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
By the Same Author
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