Crucible of Time

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  The ice underfoot suddenly steadied, and something shiny knifed up through the ice, landed on top of it, and then twisted around to look at him. It looked like a tiny creature of some kind—a strange thing, with four feet and a triangular head.

  /// Wait! ///

  it cried in the same voice that had just claimed to be Charli.

  Ik puffed air from his cheeks, to steady himself. But then Julie Stone rose through the ice after the little creature—and he lost his careful reserve. He cried out for joy; and then he cried out again, for fear that it was an illusion.

  But it wasn’t. Julie reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. It was a tingly contact, more electrical or magical than solid. She tugged him forward. /It’s really me,/ she said. /No time to explain. Link your stones to mine. Now./

  Ik needed no convincing. The landscape was starting to melt again. It was now or never. He squeezed Julie’s hand, and felt the voice-stones in his temples pulse with renewed strength; and he stumbled after Julie, as she and the little creature ran across the ice. He held on, as they jumped out over a chasm in the ice, and fell through into a starry abyss, fell silently . . .

  ***

  Joined to the two travelers, on the brink of nothingness, Charli/Bria guided their way toward a fold they could just make out in the maze of spatial dimensions. The tattered thread stretching all the way back to Shipworld was fluttering in the whispers of deep space and time. It felt as though a breath might tear it apart. They could only hope it would hold. They were still in the starstream, which could help, but at a fuzzy boundary layer where any kind of stability was more a matter of probability than of certainty.

  To the Charli half, it seemed as though they were flying on an infinitely frayed fishing line sparkling with fire. They had to zip along that fine line until it merged into something else, or somehow became stronger.

  The gokat part of Charli/Bria thought not at all about these things; she simply sensed, saw, felt the changing layers of space-time, and slipped forward by instinct, away from the brink of nothingness, to a place where pathways still led through n-space back toward the future.

  Those pathways twisted and wound through space-time like a roller coaster, turning and dipping and offering false choices left and right.

  /// Do you remember the way? ///

  the Charli-part asked the Bria-part.

  /Brrrrrrrr-yes,/ came a purring reply. In fact the gokat seemed positively to delight in the slaloming motions that took them through the dimensional maze. Still, something didn’t feel right to Charli, and she kept looking around to see what it might be. It felt to her as if they were carrying some extra weight, a drag of some kind. Was something following them? Or hanging on? Were they perhaps dragging a bit of the space-time fabric along with them?

  At last they popped into the clear field of the starstream. And then she saw what was holding them back.

  Something had hitched a ride, all right. Something dark and asymmetrical.

  Something like a Mindaru.

  Chapter 28

  Dinner with Plato

  LI-JARED RADIATED GOOD spirits as he and Ocellet Quin stepped out of the lander. Bandicut greeted them eagerly. He’d lost track of how long they’d been gone—not that long, really, but so much had happened it felt like weeks.

  “How are things down on the surface? Still in an uproar?” Bandicut asked, walking them back to the bridge.

  “I should say so!” Li-Jared said, whistling a sharp laugh. “I don’t think they were sorry to see me go.”

  “I’d say their feelings were mixed,” Quin said. “Definitely mixed. Things went better than they might have. But we still have to try to broker a permanent peace with the Uduon.”

  “But you got them to lower the temporal defense! Was there much resistance?”

  Li-Jared stopped in the passageway and laughed again, not quite a snort.

  “Oh yes,” said Quin ruefully. “Strong resistance. When the council saw how dangerous the Mindaru were, they wanted to strengthen the shield, not turn it off—even after I showed them how ineffective it was. But a lot of minds changed when they realized the Mindaru were coming from another direction altogether, and not from Uduon. And they were coming because of the shield.”

  Bandicut breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad they saw that.”

  Quin stared at him, the emerald bands across the vertical gold almonds of her eyes seeming particularly electric. “They saw something else, too. They saw that you put yourselves in danger to defend our world. That made a definite impression.”

  Bandicut smiled just a little at that, and murmured his appreciation that they had noticed. Then he added, “We were defending your world. But we were also defending the whole galaxy, including the Uduon. It’s important that your people remember that, too.”

  The Ocellet held his gaze, as though appraising him anew. “That message . . . came through a little more slowly. But it came through.” As they resumed walking, she asked, “Where are Akura and Sheeawn? We have a lot to talk about with them.”

  “On the bridge, waiting. We were just discussing when we might take them home.”

  A look of alarm came over Quin. “Not too soon, please. We hoped to bring them planetside again, to meet with the Council.”

  Bandicut inclined his head. “Let’s put the question to them.”

  ***

  Akura hesitated only a moment before replying. “I truly appreciate the offer, and we do want to meet with your representatives. But we must report home as soon as possible. My people are almost entirely in the dark about all that has happened. Remember, they witnessed a battle in their skies between us and the Mindaru, with no one to explain what was going on. They know very little about the Mindaru or the danger they pose. I was authorized to visit and learn, not to negotiate a peace. We need to take back what we have learned.”

  “But a peace agreement is surely what we both want, as quickly as possible,” Quin said. She made a small gesture with her fingers that was probably only for herself; it reminded Bandicut of someone making the sign of the cross. “The members of my council are probably more open to the idea now than they ever will be. I do not want them to have time to forget, and start remembering the old days, of the unseen . . .” She hesitated, breathed into a closed fist, and gave a small sigh. “Ignorance and fear have long memories.”

  “No doubt,” said Akura, with a bob of her head. “I understand, and my people will likely be much the same. But such an agreement must come from the will of my own circle of Watchers, and indeed all the people, not just from me. That is the only way it will be accepted by Uduon.”

  “I wonder,” Bandicut said, “if we could arrange a brief visit planetside for you—or perhaps a holo-conference. That might be a first step toward setting up a permanent communications link between Uduon and Karellia. Jeaves, what do you think?”

  The robot floated over to join the conversation. “An excellent idea. Let me work with Copernicus and see what we can come up with for communications equipment.”

  Quin bowed. “That would be extremely helpful.” She put a finger to her lips. “Is it possible that Sheeawn could stay as our guest, while you go home?”

  Sheeawn’s eyes widened, but he translated dutifully.

  Akura regarded both of them. She and Sheeawn spoke back and forth for a minute. Sheeawn finally addressed Quin, speaking for himself. “Thank you. I, uh . . . I am not a diplomat, or official of any kind. I am—” and his translator-stones had to work for a moment “—a simple fisherman back home.”

  The Ocellet cocked her head and studied him. “A fisherman? Perhaps. But simple? I do not think so. I think you already know more about the matters affecting our two worlds than most of the members of my own council. I think you would be an excellent representative.”

  “But I could not negotiate, or . . . do anything like that.”

  “No. We would not ask that of you. But you could learn something of what we Karellians are like, and we
could learn from you of the Uduon.”

  Sheeawn glanced nervously at Akura, whose expression was neutral. Perhaps she was waiting to see what he really wanted to do. “Well, I . . .”

  Ocellet flicked her fingers outward to him. “You do not need to decide now. But consider it. Please?”

  Sheeawn bowed his head and touched his chest in assent.

  Bandicut cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Folks, what would you all say to meeting some of my people? The other ship, called Plato—which helped us in the fight against the Mindaru—comes from much closer to my own home world. It is an explorer craft, and its crew are humans, like me. They will be coming aboard in a short time, to meet all of you and to share a meal.”

  That, they all agreed, was a fine idea.

  ***

  The dinner with Dakota and her shipmates proved lively. Copernicus resized the commons to a dining room large enough to seat a dozen, and Jeaves assumed the role of butler, seating everyone and bringing out the food that the synthesizer worked overtime to produce. Besides dishes intended to please the Uduon and Karellians, there was something resembling roast beef, with mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh-baked bread that actually tasted freshly baked, four different kinds of vegetables that in their way were reminiscent of carrots and green beans and spinach and broccoli, something purple and lumpy that Bandicut could not identify, and red and white wine. Jeaves showed remarkable grace in moving about, setting down platters and glasses. When Bandicut complimented him on his skills, Jeaves bowed diffidently and said, “It was my first job, Captain. One never really forgets how to do it.”

  Conversation around the table quickly shifted from the food to the wonder and uncertainty that everyone felt in meeting new sapient beings. Amazingly, they were all able to communicate with each other. Those with translator-stones were kept busy interpreting, but this was so much better than anything the Plato crew expected that they transitioned quickly into meaningful conversation. The human crew were eager to learn about both the Karellians and the Uduon, although when Ruall appeared in the room, she immediately became the center of attention for a little while. That wasn’t a position she necessarily seemed to enjoy, and before long, she found a reason to excuse herself to the bridge.

  Li-Jared appeared interested in meeting all of the Plato crew, but after a while, he maneuvered himself to sit and talk with Dakota. Any family of Bandie John Bandicut’s was family of his, he told her solemnly, and promptly launched into a tale about his experiences with her Uncle John. Dakota listened with a big smile. Her link with the stones had probably given her a starting point in understanding Li-Jared, Bandicut thought, but she clearly was enjoying meeting the effervescent Karellian in person.

  “Bandie,” Li-Jared said, raising a glass of Karellian wine as though to make a toast, “your niece is a thoroughly delightful individual. Much more civilized than any humans I have previously known.”

  That brought a laugh from Dakota. “You have keen powers of observation,” Bandicut said.

  “I think you should invite her to come back with us to Shipworld. She would be excellent company for everyone,” Li-Jared said. “And maybe you’d stop moping so much about Earth.”

  That brought another laugh, but it also gave Bandicut a pang. He had, in fact, been wrestling with that same thought. He glanced around at the other guests, before turning to Dakota. “Not to put you on the spot or anything, but what would you think about coming to Shipworld with us?”

  “Wha—?”

  “Sure. Wouldn’t you like to see the galaxy from the outside? You could be an ambassador from present-day human-space—not an old fossil from another era like me—and there could be lots of travel. You like travel, don’t you?”

  Dakota sat with her mouth hanging open. She looked stricken—intrigued, appalled, torn, all in a single moment. She let out a half-muted cry that was not at all what one expected from the XO of a starship. She blinked and tugged self-consciously at her uniform cuffs. “Jeez, Unc—John—you shouldn’t tempt me like that!”

  He felt a buzzing in his wrists, but chose to ignore it. This wasn’t the stones’ business. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. But really, if you wanted to—we’d love to have you join us. We Bandicuts—” and for a second, his voice caught “—we—need to stick together. There are only two of us left, that I know of.” And as he said that, he felt a pang of sadness.

  She blushed and cleared her throat, obviously feeling some strong emotion herself. “I know. Don’t think it isn’t a tempting offer, really! But—”

  “You have a job and a life.” He sighed. “I know. Still.”

  “Well, yeah. I’m an officer on a ship. Not to mention I have someone waiting for me at home.” She exhaled sharply and forced a smile. “Remember?”

  “Harrad. I remember.” Bandicut barked a laugh—at himself, for, in fact, forgetting that important point. He squinted at her. “Is this Harrad good enough for you?”

  “Ha. Isn’t that always the question?” A series of expressions crossed her face, ending in a soft smile. “Yes, I think he is.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She smiled wryly. “Is Antares good enough for you? Or Julie?”

  “Touché.” Just hearing the names made his heart ache. “I think . . . isn’t the real question whether I’m good enough for either of them?”

  Dakota laughed. “Probably. But I’ll bet they think so. Of course, if they ever get together,” she teased, “they might change their minds about that.”

  A smile twitched on his lips, but he couldn’t bear to follow that line of thought any further. Looking down the table, he saw Captain Brody watching him with a serious expression. Had he overheard Bandicut trying to steal Dakota away from him?

  Dakota, perhaps reading his glance, smoothed her napkin on the table and reached for her glass of wine. Sipping, she said, “You could always come back with us. Wouldn’t you like to join up with humanity again? You could be Shipworld’s ambassador. Plus, you could meet Harrad and tell me yourself if you think he’s worthy.”

  He pressed his lips together in a not-quite-grimace. He wasn’t sure why, but he was suddenly finding it hard to take a breath. Return to humanity? Would he even want to? Of course, he wouldn’t want to leave Antares and—Julie?—but apart from that, he was starting to feel as if he had a place, maybe, in Shipworld, more than he ever had back home. Plus, there was no way he could go without learning whether Ik and—Julie?—were okay. Was it so hard to just say that?

  Dakota lowered her nose slightly, studying his reaction. “Is that a no?” she asked finally.

  Now it was his turn to laugh. He shook his head, nodded. Yes, it was a no. “I, uh—I don’t think I could do that,” he managed.

  He saw pain flicker in her eyes, as the mutual acknowledgment passed between them that they were going to go their separate ways again soon. He sighed and lifted his wine, and they clinked their glasses softly together.

  ***

  Captain Brody cornered Bandicut and Dakota a few minutes later, and waved Tanaki over. If he’d overheard the earlier conversation, he didn’t mention it. “Captain Bandicut, we have a serious concern to discuss.”

  Bandicut glanced around at the fascinating mixed group of aliens, thinking, this had to be a space explorer’s dream. And yet: “Is it about getting back into the starstream?”

  Brody’s face darkened. Tanaki answered, “We simply are out of our range of knowledge and experience. We don’t know quite how we got thrown out of the starstream in the first place, and we don’t know how to reverse the process.”

  “And,” Brody continued, “we are already overdue reporting back to our home base. Of course, right here we have an astounding opportunity to establish lasting contact with—” he gestured around the room “—well, with every civilization represented in this room. But we’re a patrol ship. We need to see that a properly outfitted ship is sent here to oversee that. This is fabulous, but it’s not rea
lly our job. We don’t even carry a proper landing shuttle.”

  “You aren’t going to let that stop you, are you?” Bandicut asked. “A chance to be the first humans to visit Karellia?” Besides me? “Listen, what if you used our lander to fly a few of your people down for a short visit? It’s got practically unlimited fuel, as far as I can tell. And about the starstream, I did promise to put our people with that expertise at your disposal. But besides that—may I suggest you wait and fly back to the starstream with us? We’d be in a better position to help you, if you have difficulty.”

  Brody furrowed his brow at the unexpected suggestions.

  Bandicut said, “Let’s go to the bridge and talk to Jeaves and Copernicus and Ruall. I’m sure they’ll have some ideas.”

  ***

  Ideas they had, but the two robots and Ruall were in agreement that the one to help with this was Dark. But Dark was off checking on something—having to do, come to think of it, with the starstream. Also, though this was not of direct concern to the Plato crew, Ruall was increasingly worried that Bria had gone with Dark.

  “Captain, I’m sure Dark will be back before too much longer,” Bandicut said to Brody. “In the meantime, it’s late, at least by our time zone. Will you sleep on what I suggested? Wait until tomorrow before you decide?” He glanced imploringly at Dakota. She nudged Brody’s arm to request a private moment with him. After they’d talked, Brody said, “All right. We will wait. Maybe by tomorrow, your friend Dark will have returned. I’m sure I’d have no trouble finding volunteers to ride your lander down to the planet.”

  “Good, then. We’ll talk again in the morning,” Bandicut said.

  “Good night, Captain,” Brody said.

  “Good night.” Bandicut nodded as Brody turned away to go to the airlock and the tunnel connector. Gazing wearily at Dakota, Bandicut realized how happy he was, despite the fatigue. “Talk more tomorrow, okay? Can you stop over for breakfast?”

  “Sure will. We’ll talk about the future.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, and then turned to follow Brody off the ship. Bandicut watched her leave, a growing sadness in his heart.