The old woman looked as if she’d sucked a lemon. She was silent for a few moments. “What you call history, this urge to record facts and decisions made by previous generations of decision makers…is uniquely Premature. You understand that concept, don’t you?” Grandmother had peered at her over her teacup.
Jessica nodded. To the Center, cultures were divided into two groupings, Mature and everything else. There was an implied progression of development in their theory of civilizations, which dictated that cultures went through defined stages of development. Mature civilizations harnessed artificial intelligence to serve them. There was only one Mature civilization that they had ever found, and that was the Center itself.
“But aren’t you curious?” she asked, puzzled. “About this place? It’s unique in the universe, as you keep telling me.”
Grandmother smiled at her, lip twisted sardonically. “Curious? Certainly. I spent some time in my youth trying to figure it out myself.” Grandmother preened, squaring her shoulders. “Before I was Select. I learned nothing. There are ruins…you can find books if you look hard, but no one can read them. It serves no purpose. There are no such records. Anything that might have survived from before, from the previous stage of this place…”—she waved a wrinkled hand around them—“…was purged long ago.”
“Purged, you say. By whom?” Jessica asked. “Who did this? Surely there must be a record of that? We the undersigned decided to delete our history on this date and here’s why?”
Grandmother peered at her. “Who? Why we did. The Select, the earliest of us, long ago. Clearly it was us. Who else? As for why? I should think the why of it is obvious.” She shrugged. “You have studied more Seeker mission records than any of the Seekers themselves have. What is the most common thing you see in other threads? Among the civilizations there?”
Jessica nodded, seeing where she was going. “War, famine, plagues, death. Classic four horsemen stuff.” She paused. “So you deleted your history so nobody would know what happened here?”
Grandmother nodded. “There are, or were, poisoned places here, on Talus. There are places the tribes are forbidden to wander to. This is one the functions of the Guide cadres.” She raised her eyebrows, looking at Jessica over the rim of her teacup. “I think it explains itself.”
“There was war here, you mean? Right before the Center was established. And the Center, in its wisdom, destroyed records of this war, why it was fought, who fought in it. What the fighting was over.” Jessica sipped her tea. It was some herbal concoction. There was no real tea in the Center. She’d gotten used to this stuff.
“Your history, Jessica,” Grandmother had said, “was designed to bridge time. To explain to people at a temporal remove what happened somewhere. For whatever reasons. Kings and so forth. Who married who. Documenting possession of land and parentage and religious nonsense. Tell me, does any of that apply here? In this place?”
Jessica knew it was true, she mused to herself as she worked her way across the courtyard towards their apartment. The Center was beyond history. Humans were doomed to repeat history, wasn’t that the cliché? But here, something inhuman that had intervened in that cycle. This place, Smoke had called it a zoo. But Jessica felt she knew, after having lived here for so long, a better analogy. It was a farm.
The Center managed humanity like livestock, for their purposes. There were several thousand Archivists, Farmers, and Builders who lived and worked on the Campus, supporting the few thousand Guides and the specialized small Seeker cadres. These were what the Center needed to do their Work, their search among the Tapestry for Mature worlds, worlds like the Center.
Inside their apartment, she greeted Murn with a peck on the cheek. “You’re back early,” Murn said to her, puzzled. She looked up from her knitting, one of her many hobbies. “You just left, didn’t you?”
Jessica smiled and patted her hand. “Been gone for a bit, yes. But I got your message.” Murn smiled back. They were close, close as sisters. They had lived together for a lifetime, and she knew Murn better than anyone.
Murn’s eyes went round, and then she nodded. “Ah, yes, I remember.” She looked at Jessica. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she smiled at the older woman. She’s younger than me, she thought to herself. How’s that for irony? “Now, what’s the urgency? You said apples in your note.”
“That would be me,” a voice from their little sitting room said. A female voice, unfamiliar. A woman appeared in the doorway. She was blonde, with ice-blue eyes. Tall, slender, dressed in twenty-first century clothes. Black boots, slim-fitting black tights, a short, dark jacket. Jessica took this all in a flash.
“Who,” Jessica said, “are you?” She stepped between the stranger and Murn, taking the older woman’s hand. Though she knew. She knew who this was. “You’re Alpha?”
The woman in the doorway nodded. “Good guess,” she said, smiling. “Been a while here, hasn’t it?”
“You could say that,” Jessica said. “How are you here? How are you…you?” She gestured at the woman, holding Murn’s hand gently but firmly with her other.
“More good questions,” Alpha said. “I’m here because I managed, through a very poor bandwidth link, to get here. It’s complicated. Anyway, I’m here, and asked Murnaballa here to send you a message.”
“She did,” Murn said, nodding. “I used our code. Apples.” She nodded to Jessica conspiratorially. She looked pleased with herself. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”
Alpha looked at Murn, cocking her head, and studying the older woman’s face. “Seems tragic, that people go through this. Cruel.”
“Enough of that,” Jessica snapped. “Why are you here? Is Smoke alive?”
“Well, he was last I saw. He and a thousand barbarian warriors are about to assault a fortress. Or were about to. May have happened by now.” She looked at Jessica. “I can fix her, restore her to an earlier template. The Center has one stored from when she was twenty-five.”
Jessica blinked at her. “Fix her? Wait, hold that.” She patted Murn’s hand again, turning to the older woman. “Excuse us, will you.” To Alpha, she said, “Next room, please.”
She followed Alpha into the room and closed the curtain. She took a deep breath. “Smoke is in danger?”
“Everyone is in danger, Jessica, or I wouldn’t be here.” Alpha looked at her, eyes dark in the sitting room’s gloom. “And time is passing. I have started processes that are irrevocable here. Necessary processes.”
“What are these processes?” Jessica asked. “What will happen?”
“I need to harness every resource the Center controls, which are considerable. When we took the keys we allocated about ten percent for myself and Smoke, leaving the rest to the Select for their use, with safeguards of my design. Those are going to drop in minutes.”
Jessica waved at her. “What will happen?” she repeated.
Alpha nodded. “The Select will have control over the Center campus, to start with. If they are impulsive, they will assault this place to attempt to decapitate the threat. It would seem a wise choice for them. I would attempt to stop this, but have limited time to act, and need to do certain things.”
“What about us?” Jessica blurted. “Murn is…she’s an old woman. She threatens no one.”
“Unlikely they will care. I can restore her body, as I said,” Alpha looked at her. “We’re going to need to leave in minutes, or risk their assault.” The blonde woman nodded towards the curtain. “Shall I take her with us?”
“With us?” Jessica repeated, realizing she was floundering. “Going with you? Us?”
“Yes, Jessica, and soon. Already the Boy and his forces are moving.” Alpha nodded. “We have a minute or two. Shall I bring her? I think Smoke would want us to.”
“Um, yes. But if you can restore her, then do it. Old age is no fun, let me tell you.” She glanced sharply at the cool features of Alpha. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
�
�You don’t,” Alpha said smoothly. “But it isn’t. At least, not for you.” She smiled tightly. “There is a trick here, but it’s one of mine and you are not the target.” She looked Jessica over. “OK, you’ve been in the simulator, so this will feel somewhat familiar. I would expect our aged friend, however, to be a bit…overwhelmed.” She glanced up, looking at the ceiling, head cocked as if listening for something.
“What are you doing?” Jessica ventured, but Alpha just held up a finger to silence her. After a long moment she nodded to herself.
“OK, time to go,” she said to Jessica. “Murn,” she called into the next room, “get ready, we’re going.”
“Where are we going?” Murn called. “Can we go to the baths?”
“When we return, we can go to the baths,” Alpha replied. “You will amaze all of them, once again, with your beauty.”
Murn cackled loudly from the other room, and Jessica felt a familiar tug inside her head, their familiar sitting room receding rapidly down into a single point that folded in on itself through all the impossible geometries.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Silver insisted on dropping the Unit horsemen just under cover of the ridge, near a cut that lead into the bowl-shaped valley that held the railhead. Their leader, a smiling affable man named Shah, all brown, bald head and teeth, had shrugged. His face, carrying a wicked-looking scar across his neck, twitched into a smile when she told him. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Lady,” he rasped, holding his throat with one hand. “It is fine. The horses, they would rather walk a day than spend another minute in this.” He gestured around him at the Dutchman. “We don’t mind a ride into the yard.”
“You’ve been here before?” she asked, hauling on the yoke to fight the wind off the hills. She glanced up at him.
“I lived here for a long time,” he said, in English. He grinned at her. “I set this place up, after we pulled out. Rearguard.”
She smiled back. “I took you for a local, my apologies,” she said, in English. Then, “Your speech is excellent.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I grew up in the Bay Area. My parents were Chinese immigrants.”
She brightened. “I spent some time there. Where’s the best pizza?”
He laughed. “Um,” he said, after a moment. “You probably wouldn’t know it.”
“Try me,” she said. “I was all over, a few times. Mostly in the seventies and eighties, but a few times before that.”
“Before my time,” he said. “My place was kind of old, though. In Vacaville.”
She gaped. “I lived on base, at Travis, for a while.” She snapped her fingers. “Pietros?”
He shook his head in amazement. “It was sooo good!”
“The best,” she agreed. She jerked her head at Carter, humped in the bunk above and behind her. Him and the dog. She leaned back towards Shah. “He’s from Boston,” she whispered. “They don’t know shit about pizza.” She shook her head, wincing.
“I can hear you,” Carter said, not turning over. “California pizza sucks.”
She grinned at Shah. “We can’t agree.” She glanced out the front windscreen. “Coming up on our LZ, I think. Looks good to me.” A wide meadow loomed ahead. She hit the reverse fans, and tried to line up on it.
Carter rolled over to watch. He was, by now, as good as a pilot as her. “Little high for that,” he said. “She won’t drop that fast.”
“She’ll drop,” Silver said. “Full load, remember?” She eased the throttle off the fans, having arrested most of their forward momentum. She looked back down, through the glass panel near her feet. She considered. Almost. “Shah, go back and hop out when I set her down. Check if the ground is dry enough for the horses.” Meadows sometimes got hock-deep in mud. “And don’t let them kick anything back there.”
He nodded at her, and stalked aft. She called after him. “Brace for landing!” She hit the down control, and the little airship dropped almost vertically towards the meadow. She guided Dutchman in, flaring the fans just at the right moment to touch the skids down with a gentle thud. She slapped the hover control, and the blimp went into auto-pilot mode, holding its position automatically.
She glanced up at Carter, who was watching from the bunk. “Not bad, eh?” She smiled. She flicked the cargo ramp controls, lowering it to the ground below. A chuff sounded as it opened, flooding the cargo bay with light and fresh, mountain air.
He rolled his eyes. “What’s the plan?”
She flicked her eyes at the passage, through which she could hear Shah and his men untethering their horses and leading them down the narrow cargo ramp.
“They’re busy,” Carter protested. “They can’t hear us.”
“Later,” she said, as she slid through the passage. The last thing she needed right now was Carter bugging her about plans. Plans were, mostly, a bad idea. Most of them fell apart when you executed them, so you might as well improvise anyway. Men plan, and the gods laugh, she repeated to herself. A man had told her that a long time ago. Who? When?
She reached the ramp, and waited while the horsemen led their beasts out. She watched in approval as the horses walked steadily down the ramp, led by their riders. Well-disciplined, she saw. These men lived with their horses, and knew them, and trained them. She watched the man closest to her, forehead pressed to the muzzle of his quivering mount, whispering a steady stream of soothing words.
At length they filed out, and she helped them shift their loads, bags and such. She handed Shah a bag. He took the bag, but she held it. “What’s in these?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“Tea cozies,” he smiled at her. “Hundreds of them.” He jerked his head towards the open ramp. “Troopers at the station love ’em.”
She smiled back, releasing the bag. “I’ll see you there,” she said. “I want to scout the area west of the station.”
He nodded. “Not much out that way,” he said. “Not for a long way.” He slung the bag over his shoulder.
“You know the area well?” she said.
“Like my hands, Lady.” He held them up. “Lived out here a long time.”
“Rearguard,” she said, nodding.
“We were that.” He smiled, he looked over her shoulder to Carter, framed in the doorway. He cocked his head at him. “You look familiar, fella.”
“I get that a lot,” Carter said. He looked at Silver. “We ready?”
She nodded to Shah. “See you in a day or so,” she said. “You be alright?”
He nodded to her, but didn’t take his eye off Carter. “I was a cop, before the war. Before I signed up.”
Silver raised an eyebrow at him. “Just when I was starting to like you, Shah.” She turned her profile to him, subtly, just a shift of her hip and sliding her right foot behind her. Shah saw it, though, noticed the repositioning.
He grinned broadly at her. “I know who he is,” he said flatly. “I remember.” He glanced up at Carter. “You know who he is?”
She locked eyes with him. “I know,” she said smoothly. “I also know it was a long time ago, in a faraway place that isn’t there anymore.”
“That’s what started all of this,” Shah said, voice cracked. “What he did, that was the…” his mouth worked, as if chewing the word “…catalyst.”
“Maybe so,” she said, watching his eyes. The eyes don’t lie. “Far away. Long time ago,” she said, a soft hiss. “See you at the station.”
He held her eye for a moment, collected himself, nodded. “Thanks for the lift,” he said to her. He turned on his heel, stalked down the ramp. He didn’t look at Carter.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Do our loop.”
They buttoned up the ramp and rose. Dutchman bobbed like a top, feeling light as a feather after the weight of the horses. She let the wind take the little blimp, rising high above the ridge before she began to tack left. Carter stayed out of the cockpit, busying himself with securing the mess in the cargo bay. She heard him stomping back towards her.
He folded himself into the copilot’s chair, his usual spot when it was just the two of them. She glanced at him. “He’ll tell Warren,” she said. “Quick as he can. Good soldier, Shah.” She took them through a low-cloud, angling back towards and around the railhead’s valley.
He winced. “Yep,” he said. She saw the muscles of his jaw work, a delicate ripple of shadow in the dappled light. “You could have denied it.”
She shrugged. “Could have,” she said. “But Warren was hot on the scent already,” she said. “She’d have figured it out.” She sighed. “Bound to happen.” Warren had been entirely too suspicious of Carter and what was behind his beard. She frowned. Dies sometimes just went and cast themselves.
He was silent for a while, then he slapped both hands on his thighs. “So,” he said, “they’ll know. Well, so what?”
She looked at him. “You’ve never met anyone who knew you, have you?” she said, surprised. “You’ve never had to face anybody.”
“Faced plenty,” he said. “Had a trial, remember?” He shook his head. “OK, you weren’t there, but it was a fucking circus. I don’t remember everything, but I remember a lot of it. It sucked.” He leaned back, looking up at the sky through the side windows. “And then they drugged me for a hundred years. Or a thousand.” He breathed a long sigh.
“You did shoot the president,” she said softly. “They’ll be interested. You want my advice?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, not looking at her. “Your wisdom, please. From all your super functional relationships.” He shook his head, glancing at her when she didn’t respond.
“You want my advice?” she asked again. “I’ve had plenty of relationships, enough to know this functional term your culture threw around is bullshit. Humans are messy.” She met his eye. “So?”
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