Eternity's Mind

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Now, the teens studied his prepped survey craft, noting the modifications, watching the Roamer teams work. Nodding, Howard spoke in his crisp, polite manner. “Sir, Shareen and I wish to voice our concerns about this expedition. There are too many unanswered questions. We should collect more data via probes before letting you travel into the void. It would only be prudent considering the possible risks.”

  Shareen added, “Failing that, if you won’t wait any longer, then Howard and I want to go along. You might need us.”

  Kotto blinked. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Then it’s too dangerous for you, sir,” Howard said. “Your mind is a treasure for the human race, as you’ve demonstrated many times. We can’t lose you. Let others go explore the other side of that gap.”

  “If my intellect is such a treasure,” Kotto said, “then I’m the one who should go. It’s possible that no one else would be able to figure out the sensory input and draw the proper conclusions. Maybe I’m the only one who can solve it.”

  “Now you’re just making up answers,” Shareen muttered.

  “That’s what scientists do,” Kotto responded, “and then we find the technical basis for those answers. I intend to go into that void and have a look around. It’s my void. I created it.”

  He had strung the Roamer clans along for years, convincing them to fund the outrageously extravagant Big Ring project. And because of his track record, the clans had believed in him, accepted his fuzzy explanations and vague promises of practical results. They had done it for him, not because of the rigorous scientific basis of his proposal.

  And his science, his idea, had torn a hole in the universe.

  “You two are staying here,” he reiterated to Howard and Shareen, impatient for the discussion to be over. “The compies will come with me. They’ve been perfectly good research assistants for many years, long before you joined me.”

  “And we will continue to do our best,” KR piped up.

  “Howard and I came here to help you with your research,” Shareen said. “We want to be explorers. Let us go with you.”

  “Maybe we could provide insights, sir,” Howard added. “We’ve proven our worth at that, haven’t we?”

  Kotto didn’t want to admit he was afraid of just that. This was his expedition and his risk. “Think about it. I need you two to stay here and monitor whatever telemetry I manage to transmit back out. What if I need rescue? Who else could I count on?”

  Shareen grumbled, “You would have to offer the one compelling argument that would convince us.”

  “Besides, you still have my other projects to work on, prototypes to finish. You’ve done so well on my earlier designs—” He suddenly brightened. “Wait, isn’t your priority working with the green priests? I asked you to find a way to transfer those giant worldtrees before the terrarium dome shatters … and from the looks of it, that could be within weeks or days.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, I think that’s an excellent use of your time.”

  Howard frowned. “We’ve been working on it, sir. We did structural tests and mapped possible routes for moving the greenhouse.”

  Shareen cut in. “The dome is sturdy—it’s a Roamer structure, after all. But due to the energy requirements, time, and stresses incurred on the terrarium structure, it’s not feasible to move it into a gravity well to replant the trees, and the dome was never built to withstand being accelerated by an Ildiran stardrive.”

  “And even if we could accelerate it to a habitable system,” Howard said, “the terrarium would not survive the stresses of the dust boundary at the edge of the nebula.”

  “We also looked for a way to encapsulate the trees and transport them individually, but the process might be dangerous to the trees.”

  Kotto blinked as an idea occurred to him. The concept was fresh and exciting—he remembered the days when new ideas like this had occurred to him regularly. He brightened. “Why not build a bigger dome?”

  “A bigger dome?” Shareen asked, frowning.

  “Out in the middle of—?” Howard added.

  “Of course. Have engineers build out the base of the current greenhouse, extend the support structures, then create another hemisphere over the top of the old one. Once it’s sealed, dismantle the inner shell and give those trees some breathing room. It would buy them some time at least.” Kotto rubbed his hands together. “Yes, that could work.”

  “But we don’t have much time,” Howard said. “It would take months.”

  “Not for Roamers,” Shareen said. She wore a hopeful look as calculations seemed to click in her mind. She started talking faster. “You and I would have to start on the design right away, Howard. If we pulled the teams together and got Chief Alu to sign off on the resources we need, they could get it done in three or four weeks.”

  “There you go—your Guiding Star,” Kotto said. “Keep yourselves busy while I’m gone.”

  A Roamer tech crawled out of the engine vault at the rear of the survey craft and called, “Aft sensor array is complete, Kotto. Do you want to check it?”

  He gave a confident wave. “I trust your work.” He turned back to his assistants. “Well, now that you have my idea, go implement the plan. You’re pretty good at that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Raising his chin in a display of bravado, he said, “I’m going into the void, and that’s that. We’ll launch as soon as the survey craft is ready.”

  Shareen hesitated. “But if the void is a different dimension … what if the Shana Rei live there? What if you fly straight into one of their shadow clouds?”

  “Well, then, we will see what we will see.”

  He tried to sound cheerful and optimistic, dismissive of the perils, but his voice cracked at the end, and his throat went dry. He touched the shoulders of his two compies. “Come on, KR and GU. Let’s get ready for our adventure.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  PRINCE REYN

  Being with Osira’h had always given him energy and hope, but Reyn received an entirely different kind of strength when he returned to Theroc. Reyn was not a green priest, yet the energy of life, the energy of his home came to him regardless. As he stepped out of the shuttle, he inhaled the verdant scents of sun-warmed fronds, the pollens of epiphytes and sweet blossoms that wound among the worldtrees. He stretched out his arms on the canopy landing field. Reyn just closed his eyes and drank it in. Osira’h took his hand, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “The color has come back to your face.”

  He was home, and he was safe … for the most part.

  Unfortunately, his relief was all too transient. With a malicious suddenness, a dark fog at the edges of his vision made him sway, and cramped signals of pain crackled throughout his nerves. Osira’h caught him, held him, before his knees could buckle.

  Coming to him with a large reception committee, King Peter and Queen Estarra ran forward, their faces distraught. Reyn leaned on Osira’h and locked his knees so he remained standing straight. “I’m fine,” he insisted. The strain in his voice belied his words.

  “We brought the last kelp extracts from Kuivahr,” Osira’h said, partly to Reyn and partly to the King and Queen. “They help a little, but we’re starting to run short.”

  “Kuivahr is gone,” Reyn said. “There won’t be any more kelp extracts.”

  “Then we’ll synthesize the best ones,” Peter said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a hug. “If there’s a way, we’ll manufacture a treatment.”

  Reyn wasn’t so sure. “The kelp is extinct.”

  “We’ll still try,” his mother said, giving him a longer embrace to welcome him home. “We’ll always try. With all the pharmaceutical operations in the Confederation, someone should be able to replicate it.”

  Though his legs trembled, and he felt frail and weak, Reyn insisted he was strong enough to walk. He hated to look like this in front of his parents; it wasn’t the homecoming he wanted to have.

  �
��The worldforest will help restore him,” Osira’h said, taking charge. “The disease has drained him, and he needs to rest.”

  They took him back to his familiar quarters in the fungus-reef city. Reyn looked around his room, smiling at his bed, his belongings on shelves, his writing desk, the view out the window. It felt good just to be here.

  His father gave him an optimistic report. “Zoe Alakis delivered a lot of raw data about your disease, and teams of Confederation researchers have been combing through it. Our studies have advanced ten times farther than they were a month ago.”

  “But is there a cure?” Osira’h asked.

  “Progress,” Estarra said firmly. “Progress that could lead to a cure.”

  Osira’h wasn’t entirely reassured. “Maybe your researchers can combine their work with an analysis of the most effective kelp extracts.”

  Peter nodded. “The extracts, along with our recent progress, give us good reason to hope. And Reyn is home now, which will help, too. We should let him rest.”

  The King and Queen turned to leave, trying to shoo Osira’h out the door with them, but Reyn gave a wan smile. “It’s all right. I’d rather Osira’h stayed here with me.”

  For all their concern over his health, his mother flashed a surprised smile at him, and his father grinned. “As requests go, that’s a fairly simple one to grant,” Peter said, and they left.

  Reyn relaxed on his bed. The open windows of his chamber let in the sounds of the forest: the ratcheting buzz of a pair of condorflies in an aerial mating dance, the chatter of green combat beetles in blustering collisions in the sky. The familiar forest noises seemed so peaceful they almost lulled Reyn into a belief that the Spiral Arm was at peace, with no Shana Rei or black robots or faeros … a place with only fond memories and the company of beautiful Osira’h.

  That illusion was false, but he clung to it nonetheless.

  Osira’h rummaged in her possessions, unfurled an insulated carrier pack that held the carefully labeled sample vials. Shawn Fennis had insisted on giving them the rest of the kelp extracts when they evacuated from Kuivahr. She held out a nearly empty vial of brownish-green fluid. “We have only two doses of the one that worked best. Do you want to save it for a different time?”

  Reyn shook his head. “Right now I want to feel strong—for my parents’ sake if nothing else. We’ll use the proven sample.” He placed the vial against his triceps, and the self-injector applied the dose. From experience, he knew it would take an hour before he felt partially recovered again, and the benefits would last a day, maybe less. “Save the last dose for analysis. Maybe some Confederation chemists can synthesize more.”

  In shelf alcoves in the bedchamber’s soft white walls, Reyn saw a piece of vine-strand artwork he had done when he was a boy, decorative polished burl nodules, a preserved insect cocoon, and a pair of gloves he had often worn when climbing the outer shell of the fungus reef.

  His sister had always collected biological specimens: interesting beetles, moths, fluffy spore clusters, seeds. Arita planned to gather the entire worldforest, one species at a time. She was endlessly fascinated with nature and had tried to interest him as well, eager to show Reynald a mobile fungus or a spiny arachnid she had discovered. She knew early on that she wanted to be a naturalist, and he remembered how devastated she had been when she failed to be accepted as a green priest. She had tried to hide her sadness, but Reyn sensed it. He had comforted her and helped shore up her determination.

  Now, he reminisced aloud for Osira’h. “When we were young, my sister and I would go out in the forest and climb the trees. She was better at it than I was, but I kept up with her.” He lay back on his bed and looked at the curved white ceiling. “Remembering that makes me realize just how much I’ve slipped. I could never climb out there now. Day by day, I’m growing worse by degrees, and if I think about how I was then…”

  He shook his head and felt discouraged all over again. He supposed Arita was off on some expedition. She often went to the Wild to gather new specimens for the vast naturalist encyclopedia of Theroc she dreamed of compiling.

  Restless, he climbed out of bed and went to his wardrobe, where he removed his shoulder cape of overlapping preserved moth wings, one of the garments he wore as the son of Father Peter and Mother Estarra for performing local duties. “I don’t need to rest. Let’s go to the throne room. I want to be there.”

  Osira’h smiled at the fine exotic cape. “All right. It might be good for you.”

  When they reached the large decorated chamber, Reyn saw Confederation representatives, traders from other planets, government delegates, CDF officers, and green priests. Peter and Estarra sat in ornate chairs decorated with crushed beetle carapaces.

  Admiral Handies was presenting a report, and when Reyn and Osira’h entered, the military officer looked flustered to have his well-practiced speech derailed. Reyn minimized the disruption by taking a guest seat at the side of the dais. “Continue please, Admiral. I want to listen in, so I can get caught up.”

  Handies cleared his throat. “I was discussing the black shadow clouds that our sensors have detected. Patrol ships report greater numbers of them appearing in open space. General Keah just went to investigate one seen near Relleker. Those shadow clouds are likely incursions by the Shana Rei, and we must be prepared for them.”

  Peter responded in a brisk voice. “How do you propose that we prepare, Admiral? What can we do beyond what we’re doing now? If you have new suggestions, we need to get started.”

  Handies seemed flustered. “I wish I had a better answer for you, sire. All of our Mantas and Juggernauts are loaded with enhanced sun bombs, but we don’t know where the Shana Rei will strike. Adar Zan’nh reports that the Solar Navy succeeded in eradicating all the black robots at Kuivahr, so they should no longer be a threat. If true, that significantly improves our defensive position.”

  “And the shipyards at the LOC are building new warships?” Peter asked. “Repairing the damaged ones?”

  Handies glanced at his notes. “Yes, sire. As swiftly as possible. We are constructing and repairing at a pace not seen since since the height of the Elemental War. General Keah is quite a taskmaster.”

  “Yes,” said Estarra. “It’s one of the many reasons she commands the Confederation Defense Forces. Let’s hope that we’re prepared enough when we need to be.”

  After the Admiral departed, Reyn looked around the throne room, disappointed that his sister’s chair remained empty. “Where is Arita? Off on another research trip?”

  Estarra’s forehead knitted in concern. “She and Collin left for the Wild several days ago, and they were very worried. They’d lost touch with Kennebar and his followers, and even our green priests weren’t quite sure of the situation over there. Your sister and Collin went to investigate.”

  Peter frowned. “We haven’t heard anything yet. Collin should have sent a message back through telink by now.”

  Reyn tried to sound confident. “Arita can take care of herself. She always has.” But he felt uneasiness grow inside him.

  CHAPTER

  23

  ARITA

  They left the shattered black worldtrees behind and ran through the underbrush toward Arita’s personal flyer that had brought them to the Wild.

  Collin stumbled along. Now that they had escaped the voidpriests and the murderous Onthos, the reality of what Kennebar had done was catching up with him, and they were both in shock. Breathing hard, he said, “I don’t know if any other green priests heard me when I called out through telink. I didn’t feel anyone else inside there. The verdani mind in the Wild has been cut off, partitioned somehow. The trees aren’t aware of what they’ve forgotten and what they’re not seeing. Back at home, the green priests don’t even notice.”

  “We’ll tell everyone when we get there,” Arita said. “I still don’t know how to explain the … immense voice I felt when I was most desperate. It certainly wasn’t the verdani.”

  They hurri
ed to the aircraft. Arita feared that the rest of the Onthos—and there must be many more—would come hunting for them. They sensed the oppressive silence of the trees, as if the worldforest were either slumbering or unconscious, having expended all its energy to overthrow the voidpriests. Right now, the forest felt dangerous and threatening again, the close massive trunks pressing in. Having grown up on Theroc, Arita had danced through thickets all her life, dodged shrubs and vines, but now the forest seemed to be hindering them, intentionally. Even Collin struggled, and a green priest usually slipped like a summer breeze through the densest underbrush.

  She let out a sigh of relief when they found the flyer in an open meadow. Exhausted, their bodies aching, they ran toward the craft. Even without telink, they could use the aircraft’s comm system to announce the emergency, and when they returned home, Collin would tell the green priests the full extent of what was happening in the Wild.

  With long-delayed dismay, Arita recalled something Kennebar had said. “We can’t go back just yet. We have to stop by Sarein’s dwelling first. If the Gardeners attacked her, she may need our help. And if they killed her…”

  She activated the engines, expecting that at any second the trees or the Onthos would find some way to prevent their departure. But the craft rose unhindered above the meadow and skimmed over the treetops.

  Beside her, Collin continued to heave large breaths, holding his head in his hands. After a minute, he straightened and explained to her what he had seen deep inside the trees. “Now I understand what’s really happening. Thousands of years ago, the Shana Rei did wipe out the Onthos home system and killed part of the worldforest. Some of the Gardeners got away—but they carried a … spark of dark.” He looked over at her as she flew. “And when the refugees came here, our worldforest didn’t notice it. We welcomed the Onthos, but now they’re spreading their blight and killing the trees. We have to stop them.”

  “How can there be so many?” Arita asked. “Only a hundred landed.”