Harken was pulled hard to his left. He looked at the pale hand wrapped around his arm and followed it upward. A crooked-nosed warrior with a heavy, protruding brow returned his gaze through eyes filled with contempt for the Humani.
The Murhatta, as Khadiem’s offspring had come to be called, led Harken down a narrow corridor past several hurrying Vehl, warriors born of Pashira, until he stood before a gravlev. The Murhatta pulled him in and held him firmly until they had dropped ten or twelve decks. He pushed Harken in the back of the neck, careful not to damage the nodes protruding from the Humani Navigator’s skull.
Still weakened by the stress of the communion he had just undergone to bring Havoc to this system, Harken stumbled down the dark corridor past a succession of metal doors. The warrior grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him then pointed an object at one of the doors, causing a control panel to blink to life. He entered a few commands and the metal door slid sideways to reveal a small cell. The warrior pushed Harken inside then closed the door and stalked away.
Exhausted from the communion and feeling a dull throbbing pain at the base of his skull, Harken gently lay himself down on the metal bench protruding from the wall. He closed his eyes and took in several deep breaths, trying to clear his mind of the fog which still dulled his thoughts. He went through the conversation he’d just had with Linsky. Though it had drained him of his strength, he had successfully managed a multiple shift whereby he prolonged the process of moving the Sahiradin battleship to Hykso while simultaneously appearing in Linsky’s cell. Of course, Suvial had helped him considerably. Such a feat was well beyond his own capabilities. It had been a risky maneuver; he might easily have delivered Havoc to the incorrect location or fully shifted himself to Linsky’s cell. Either outcome would have greatly displeased Kurak.
He gently rubbed the scar on his chest that marked the spot where those disgusting Myr zookeepers had inserted a network of molecular explosives along his heart’s outer lining. Then he carefully touched one of the five nodes protruding from various places on his skull. He explored the base of one of them and felt the puss-filled wound. It should have scabbed over by now but it appeared to be infected, as no doubt were the others. Another gift of the accursed Myr. For a long time, Harken did not understand what the strange creatures had been doing to him. He had assumed they were installing the devices to enable them to study Humani physiology. Then, after a succession of brutal surgeries during which the nodes were installed into his skull, Kurak came to him in his holding pen. When Harken saw that the old warrior held the Apollo Stone in his hand all became clear.
The rumbling deck plates under him indicated that the raid was proceeding in earnest now. The Lycians would soon send ships through one of the several nearby khâls and seek to destroy Havoc and recover the Kaiytáva. But as had happened so many times before, the Sahiradin would simply shift space and escape, this time using their ship’s navigation device, the doschka, to activate the Apollo Stone. Of course, Kurak could have used the doschka to bring Havoc to the Hykso System, but he wanted to test Harken’s skills as a Navigator under combat conditions. Harken suspected he would soon be required to shift an entire Sahiradin fleet into battle, and Khadiem’s favorite warrior no doubt wanted to ensure there would be no surprises.
The battleship shuddered violently, nearly dislodging Harken from his bench. Several powerful projectiles must have struck Havoc, but the ship’s antiballistic shield was still holding. Unless the shields’ ever-oscillating frequency was identified, a nearly impossible task, high speed projectiles would not breach her hull. The only way to nullify the shield was to overload it with high energy particle beams or massive ion blasts, but a shield generator on a ship the size of Havoc could take a lot of heat before dissipating. Yet, this did not mean the shield protected them from all harm because even though a projectile could not pierce the ship’s metal skin, much of an explosion’s kinetic energy still passed through and could cause considerable damage.
Havoc rapidly accelerated and rolled right. As it did so, the meager light in the ceiling of Harken’s little detention cell went out, an indication that Havoc had fired one or both of her ion canons. Harken counted to five before the light flickered on again.
Another sudden change in speed and direction pressed Harken against the cold metal bulkhead next to him. A few low tremors rolled through the ship followed by a quick lurch to the side and a sudden stop. All was still as an eerie silence settled over the battleship. Even the main engines had ceased their humming.
Had the Lycians somehow managed to disable Havoc’s thrusters? Harken waited for a barrage of particle beams and ballistic weapons to strike at any moment, but instead, he sensed something strange pass through him, an invisible wave that made him feel as though he were being simultaneously lifted and stretched. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. When he opened them again, he saw nothing. All was completely black.
As he peered into the darkness, something rushed by him like a gust of wind, sending him tumbling madly as if he’d been hurled from a high cliff. Multicolored pinpricks of red, yellow, white, and blue light began to flash all around him, reinforcing the sensation of uncontrolled tumbling. The lights grew in number and intensity, increasing Harken’s confusion and panic as he vainly sought to focus his mind on anything he could use to orient himself. Then everything stopped moving, and he found himself lying face down on a solid but invisible surface.
“Harken,” said a low voice from somewhere in the surrounding gloom.
“I am here,” said Harken, rising to his knees.
“Did you perform your task?”
Harken nodded his head. He looked up and around, but saw only the distant lights. “I did. I communicated your instructions.”
“Good,” said the voice. “You have done well, Harken. What you lack in natural gifts you make up for in raw ambition.”
“Thank you, Suvial,” replied Harken. He got to his feet and looked around him once more but saw nothing but distant pinpricks of light “Tell me, what’s happening now? I know I don’t have you in my hand. I watched Kurak place you inside the doschka. How am I here? How are we communing?”
“A true Navigator would not need to hold me to engage in a communion, but you are not a true Navigator,” replied the voice. “This communion is possible because the Sahiradin have used their machine, their doschka, to shift space. We are now between the threads of the universe.”
Harken nodded his head. He had been aboard Havoc before when it shifted space using the doschka, but it had never been like this. In the past, shifts using the machine had occurred in the blink of an eye; one moment you’re here - snap your fingers, now you’re there, five thousand lightyears away.
“If they are using the doschka, I should be transported along with everyone else aboard Havoc, unaware of the shift. Why am I here?”
“The Sahiradin think they use me to transport themselves through the fabric of space, but they haven’t the slightest idea of what I truly am. They only know that if they place their precious Kaiytáva into the machine they stole from the Alamani and select coordinates on their pitifully limited star chart, their ship will instantly materialize there. They are ignorant, brutish fools and do not truly understand what they are doing when they shift space.”
“Were the Alamani ignorant fools? Did they understand who you are?” asked Harken, looking to his left in response to a vague sensation that something had floated by.
“They understood a little. But as their understanding grew, so did their folly,” replied the voice from somewhere behind Harken.
Slowly turning around while keeping a wary eye on his surroundings, Harken searched for signs of the entity who called himself Suvial.
“Again I ask you, how am I here?”
“You are here because I have allowed you to be here,” replied Suvial tersely.
“So you have control over the process?” asked Harken, his eyes sharp for any movement. “You can control the shift when th
e doschka is used?”
A long moment of silence followed Harken’s question. “Are you still here?” he called out as he looked left and right.
The figure of a man dressed in black suddenly appeared directly in front of Harken. The man had short dark hair, light brown eyes, and a swarthy complexion. He was the same height as Harken, though his shoulders were broader and he appeared to be younger, perhaps in his early fifties.
“I control everything,” said the figure in a calm, confident tone. “I have suspended this shift, and because you are now a Navigator, albeit a frail one, I drew you into a communion. I need to be sure you made the arrangements we previously discussed.”
Though initially startled by Suvial’s appearance, Harken narrowed his eyes and looked hard at the man who stood before him. A wry grin appeared on his lips. “How interesting,” he said. “Did you know that you bear a remarkable likeness to a certain man? His name was Malcom Weller.”
“The result of your own imagination,” replied Suvial. “As with past Navigators, your mind needs to rationalize this experience by casting me into a familiar shape.”
Harken scoffed derisively. “I don’t believe that for one second. I didn’t conjure you out of my imagination, you conjured yourself from out of my thoughts. You searched for memories of a figure you could imitate in order to influence me. I must therefore assume you know my mind. You know my plans, ambitions, and desires.”
Suvial grinned and nodded his head. “You’re a sharp one. It takes most Navigators much longer to reach that conclusion, if ever they do.”
Harken folded his hands behind his back and slowly walked to his left, his chin slightly lifted as he looked at the distant lights. “So now you’ve summoned me here. Why?”
“As I said, I need to confirm that preparations are being made so we can gain entry to the cave you described.”
“Which you say you can use to free your Aenor friends from Permidian, the black hole at the center of the galaxy,” said Harken. “With my help, of course.”
“Yes,” replied Suvial.
“And when we have the other twelve, I will seek out humans with the natural ability to become Navigators. And together we will raise humanity to heights of power beyond our wildest imaginations.”
“If that is your wish.”
“It all sounds so…wonderful,” said Harken from behind Suvial. “For me and my other Navigators, that is. Tell me, what do you and your kind gain?”
Suvial suddenly vanished and reappeared on the other side of Harken, forcing the human to turn and face him.
“It is simple,” said Suvial. “I gain the company of the Aenor. So long as they are on Permidian’s event horizon, they are locked in time; I cannot commune with them.”
“Commune with them or plot with them?” asked Harken. “You must want more than simply to be reunited. I cannot believe that is the limit of your ambition.”
“You have lived for a very short time, Humani. So short that I have as much difficulty comprehending it as you do of infinity,” replied Suvial. “We Aenor neither live nor die. We simply are. But it was not always so and it was never our intention to inhabit these objects, these Kaiytávae for all eternity. Nevertheless, it has come to be, and as you can imagine, it is a difficult thing to endure alone.”
Suvial took a few steps toward Harken, stopping an arm’s length away.
“As far as ambitions are concerned, a time-bound creature such as yourself is forged, shaped, and driven by the ever-present knowledge of your mortality. All of your beliefs and desires flow from the fountain of that fundamental truth. My ambitions, by contrast, center on maintaining the connections with my kind. These connections provide us comfort in these cocoons turned prisons.”
“How touching,” said Harken with a laugh. “Unconvincing…but touching.” He leaned slightly forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Every prisoner desires freedom, and every prison has its weaknesses. You’ve had billions of years to consider the matter. If the Apollo Stone is a prison, you must have devised a plan of escape.”
“Communion with each other is our escape,” replied Suvial. “The man Malcom Weller, whom you so admire, was faced with a similar situation. Following the catastrophe that befell your planet, those who were in power, what your memories refer to as the Nine Tyrants, sought to maintain the prior social and political order. They strove to hold people together, but Weller knew disintegration was inevitable; he saw the situation for what it was and formulated his plans accordingly. In that way, I am no different. We Aenor are firmly bound within these objects. That is a reality that we cannot ignore. But by communing with one another, by sharing our thoughts and fears, sadness and joy, we have adapted to the fundamental truth that we must exist forever in these shells.”
“And if I help you to free the Aenor from the black hole, you will help me build an empire that will span the galaxy. Hardly seems like a fair exchange.”
The image of Malcom Weller gave a slight shrug. “To be honest, we Aenor are indifferent to the affairs of beings such as yourself. We need you to invoke a communion. Do not ask me why that is. The universe, through some strange twist of fate, has made it so. Through these communions we have seen empires rise and fall, generations born and perish; it is nothing to us. Our only desire is to maintain the ability to commune.”
“I see,” said Harken. “And you harbor no hatred for the Lycians for throwing your companions into the black hole?”
“I cannot fault them for doing what they did. They thought they were protecting themselves, and to be quite honest, had they not wrested the other Aenor from their Sahiradin enemies, they would have been conquered long ago.”
“So tell me why the cave is so important to you,” asked Harken. “How will it help you?”
Suvial smiled. “I sense you already suspect what is in that cave. And I agree with you. It is a door that allows one to pass through the threads of this universe and effect changes far away without having to physically appear. It significantly magnifies a Navigator’s natural, or in your case artificial, powers. It can be used to free my kind from Permidian’s clutches.”
“Why could I not simply use you to retrieve them?” asked Harken.
“A natural Navigator could do it,” replied Suvial. “But you are not a natural Navigator. Your reach is limited, and each time you use me to shift space, it drains you. You will need the powers of the cave to enhance your capabilities if you are to gather the others.”
“So I’m to go into this cave and it will just take me to the Aenor? Is it like shifting space?”
“Something like that,” replied Suvial. “I will guide you.”
“But what is it?” insisted Harken. “It’s not like you. Someone created the cave. Who?”
“I cannot be certain, but I suspect it was the Geth,” replied Suvial casually. “They were a species that possessed us before the Alamani destroyed them and took us for themselves. It would seem they were able to create a mechanism that mimics our abilities, though it is stationary and somehow embedded in that cave.”
Harken laughed lightly. “So the Sahiradin took you from the Alamani, who took you from the Geth, who took you from…whom?”
“Does it matter?” asked Suvial. “You see why I am indifferent to whomever possesses us. The cycle is predictable. We pass from one set of greedy hands to the next.”
“And now you’ll pass into the hands of the humans,” said Harken. “But you don’t think it will last, do you.”
“Someone will eventually take us from you,” replied Suvial nonchalantly. “But you will have had your time at the pinnacle of power before the process begins anew. Does the inevitability of your species’ downfall bother you?”
Harken smiled broadly. “I think you will find humanity is more resilient than our predecessors. Soon we will be basking in the light of a thousand suns. My concern is of a more immediate nature. How will we prevent Kurak or Khadiem from detonating the explosives the filthy Myr planted in my
chest? The moment they notice I’ve taken the Apollo Stone, I’ll be dead.”
“You are a cunning and resourceful creature,” said Suvial with a wry grin. “If you wish to lay the foundations of a galaxy-wide empire, apply your talents to the problem. I’m sure you will devise a plan.”
Chapter 27
The water hollows out the stone, not by force but drop by drop.
- Lucretius. On the Nature of Things, Book VI.
The sound of General Vessey’s heavy puffing drew Logan’s attention up the hill they were climbing. Vessey was walking just ahead of him. Ravenwood and Beth were at his sides. The stout First Army general was struggling to catch his breath as he led them toward the steel door entrance to the mysterious cave in the Pennsylvania highlands. They had received an urgent but clandestine invitation the prior day from Dr. Komatsu to visit him at the cave. Though Logan had planned to travel that day to the Harmony Joint Operations Base just west of the Mississippi, Komatsu’s request could not be ignored.
“You may come to regret your decision to resign, Brandt,” said Vessey with a glance at Logan’s civilian clothing. “It’s better to be part of the machine than the fuel that feeds it.”
Logan laughed cynically. “Don’t fool yourself, General. Attika plans to rip those stars from your collar and replace you with a reliable Septemberist.”
“Really? She just appointed me to a newly created position, Chief of Military Operations.”
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