Using truhands only, Kesedbarmek gestured to indicate agreement. “Though velocities in the region remain, as previously noted, inconsistent, the process is certainly measurable within the time-compensation limits of our available instrumentation, and is clearly continuing to accelerate.” After a glance at Truzenzuzex, their host continued. “You must swear not to reveal anything that is told to you here, Clarity Held.”
She felt offended. “It seems like my life is turning into one long litany of things I’m not supposed to talk about.”
Truzenzuzex reassured his colleague. “As we have indicated, she knows what we know, and in certain ways and certain aspects may know more of what is happening than do we.”
Satisfied by this, Kesedbarmek continued. As she spoke, she used a truhand and foothand to trace shapes and directions in the air. Like ethereal ink, faint lines of lambent bright blue trailed the tips of her shiny, green-blue, multijointed fingers.
“We have been able to keep the singularity in question under study for a while now. As you know, that its true significance was noted at all is due to a combination of diligence on the part of certain of our people”—she glanced in the direction of Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex—“and to a report stemming from an informal meeting that took place between a padre of the United Church and the human with whom you exist in close emotional, if presently not physical, contact.” This time Clarity had no doubt where those golden, multi-lensed eyes were focused.
“Philip Lynx,” she confirmed unnecessarily.
“Crr!lk.” Thranx digits wove evocative patterns in the star-spotted darkness as their hostess turned her attention back to the pair of visiting scientists. “The reason for asking you here is that for the first time, extensive and detailed examination of the area of concern has yielded visible evidence of actual destructive activity. Dissemination of this discovery is necessarily limited to an extremely small number of the aware, while ongoing security demands dictate that it not even be trusted to supposedly secure space-minus communications.” Within the depths of the map, a quartet of digits moved once more, to half cup the distorted cluster of far-distant stars in their chitinous fingers.
“This galaxy is known to us as Poltebet and to human astronomers as MH-four-three-eight-A. It is smaller than our own, or the one you call Andromeda, but still of considerable size. Note this area.” Polysaccharide digits traced the space where missing spirals should have extended outward into darkness. “Offsetting arms should be swirling here. They are not. Furthermore, the center of Poltebet shows signs of a distinctive, unusual, and inexplicable energy deficiency. This deficit continues to increase even as the situation is monitored. Given the time scale on which events of galactic magnitude normally proceed, the rate at which this loss is occurring exceeds anything in our, or your, scientific experience.” When she continued, her delicate truhands moved apart to encompass a much larger area.
“Galaxy Poltebet—MH-four-three-eight-A is disappearing, at quantifiable speed and in astronomical terms literally before our eyes.” Moving beyond the stellar cluster under discussion, her digits traced blue lines in the blackness beyond. “Something is consuming it. This is not an instance of one galaxy colliding with another and absorbing it, or of a supermassive black hole or other identifiable astronomical phenomenon siphoning off stellar mass. It is unprecedented.
“Beyond, and in the direction of absorption, is the expanse that has been known to human astronomers for hundreds of years as the Great Emptiness and to us as the Great Void. We believe that whatever is consuming Poltebet—MH-four-three-eight-A is the first measurable manifestation of whatever is emerging from that hitherto unviewable region, perhaps a tendril of the actual malevolent phenomenon perceived by the human Philip Lynx.”
Along with his companions, Tse-Mallory stared intently at the hovering visual. “A significant and, needless to say, unsettling development. At least we finally have a chance to get a look at the thing, or a portion of it.”
Kesedbarmek gestured disarmingly. “So one would think. Unfortunately even our best instruments, compensating for the relevant chronological delay so that measurements are recorded in actual time, detect nothing. The phenomenon continues to reveal nothing of its true nature. We are made aware of its presence only through its catastrophic activity, in the same way that an unseen carnivore reveals itself only through the carcass it leaves behind.”
Clarity stared at the glowing representation. It was one thing to listen to Flinx describe what he felt, what he sensed, when he had visions of the indescribable malevolence that lay within the Great Emptiness; quite another to see it rendered in front of her as a visible, almost tangible image, and an unimaginably destructive one at that.
The breathing spicules on Truzenzuzex’s thorax expanded as he inhaled deeply. “One would expect some sort of measurable consequent activity: bursts of gamma- or X-rays, something strikingly visible at one end of the electromagnetic spectrum or the other.”
Kesedbarmek gestured negativity. “There is nothing. No detectable infall of charged particles, no streams of visible light or heat or energy—nothing. Poltebet—MH-four-three-eight-A is simply vanishing.” Compound eyes and antennae turned once more in Clarity’s direction. “Unlike the unique human upon whose singular perception we are all dependent, we have no sense of the thing beyond what it leaves behind—which is nothing.” She returned her attention to her fellow thranx.
“What of this essential individual? When last we communicated you spoke, with obligatory obliqueness, of an attempt on his part to ascertain the location of a still-functioning Tar-Aiym device of significant potential, with an eye toward attempting to employ it to impact the advance of the approaching cataclysmic phenomenon.” Once again, she indicated the ghostly image of the rapidly vanishing galaxy. “Though given the scope of the catastrophe that will eventually confront us I and my colleagues continue to doubt any potential efficacy.”
Truzenzuzex exchanged a look with Tse-Mallory, his glance passing over Clarity as it returned to their host. “One seeks hope where one can find it. To the best of our knowledge the individual in question is in the process of doing exactly that. Unfortunately, srr!lk, we can not project a credible time frame for possible success.”
“You have no way of communicating with him while he is engaged in this search?” she asked.
“He is presently probing sundry portions of the Blight,” Tse-Mallory informed the fretful scientist. “For reasons of security—personal as well as otherwise—it was decided that he not engage in communication with anyone, including ourselves, until and unless he has something of significance to report. As you know there are others, including branches of government, whose attentions would only complicate our efforts should they learn of his location and attempt to detain him.”
Kesedbarmek indicated understanding. “As time passes, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep knowledge of the phenomenon in question a secret. That hundreds of years might pass before it begins to impact on our civilization would mitigate but by no means eliminate the danger to the moral, mental, and spiritual development of the Commonwealth.”
Hundreds of years, Clarity thought. They had told her the same thing on New Riviera. That it might be centuries of years before this advancing horror threatened their own galaxy. She didn’t need millennia. She didn’t even need hundreds of years. A few decades of happiness with the man she loved was all she wanted. Was that too much to wish for? Was that being selfish, when the future lives of billions of intelligent beings were at stake? All she wanted was for Flinx to come back to her, for them to have some time together. Some time to be happy in each other’s company. She felt she knew that strange, solitary young man well enough to know that if she asked him to make that choice, if she pressed him hard enough, he just might opt to agree. But if she did, and he responded favorably, would he still be the man she had fallen in love with?
Can’t marry. Have to save the galaxy first. Uncomplicated ordinary domesticity later.
She stood quietly in the semi-darkness, illuminated by the glow of dozens of precisely imaged, hovering galaxies, watching and listening as the two most intelligent beings she had ever met in her life conversed in a steady hum of words, whistles, and clicks with an oversized insectoid who gleamed like an ambulatory topaz and smelled of orchids and vanilla.
Other couples saw their nuptials blocked by bickering relatives, or protesting friends, or financial difficulties, or medical problems.
She could only fantasize, and yearn hopelessly for, such simplicity.
The first indication that something was amiss came from certain uniquely sensitive plants growing in the Teacher’s lounge area. They began to sway and twitch as if in the presence of an electric current. As for Pip, she was lying coiled on the padded bed close to the lounge when she suddenly jerked and twisted. Insufficiently intelligent to interpret the meaning of what she was mentally magnifying, she nonetheless reacted powerfully to the intrusion. After the initial shock, her body relaxed. Quivering on the folds of fabric, she trembled only slightly as the incursion continued full force. For all its strength, it was not harmful. She remained thus, a bioconduit amplifying and facilitating access to the intrusion’s final destination.
That individual twitched slightly as he lay on the lounge, ostensibly asleep but far from unperceptive. Tired but recovering from the frustrations engendered by his time on Arrawd, Flinx had taken a mild soporific and fallen into a deep sleep, knowing that the ship would wake him when it was time to depart orbit. As was all too often the case, however, not all of him was wholly asleep.
That distinctive segment of his mind had just been contacted.
THERE IS A DANGER.
I know, a part of him replied.
NO. NOT THAT. ANOTHER. NEARER. DIFFERENT. MORE IMPENDING. IT MUST BE DEALT WITH FIRST.
Confused, exhausted, neither unconscious nor entirely aware, he struggled to comprehend while on the floor by his side Pip quivered like a cable through which a powerful current was being passed.
I don’t understand. I don’t see. What other? What nearer? What different?
The contact proceeded to show him.
It was everything that was claimed, and more. It was utterly different from anything he had ever encountered before, or imagined. And unlike the immense unknown that lurked within the Great Emptiness, it was not on the borders of the Commonwealth, threatening it from a far-distant place and time.
It was already inside.
Recoiling from what he perceived, he cried out in his quasi-consciousness. How can I deal with something like that? I am only one.
YOU HAVE A CLASS-A MIND. I AM NOT THAT EQUAL... BUT I AM NEAR. TOGETHER WE WILL DEAL WITH IT. IT IS MY LOT TO DO SO. IT MUST BE DONE CAREFULLY, SUBTLY, CAUTIOUSLY. IN MOMENTS MEASURED. BUT TOGETHER, IT CAN BE DONE.
Perception clarified, ever so slightly. You are asleep.
NOT SLEEP. SOMETHING ELSE. LIKE YOU.
Body twisting on the lounge, Flinx fought to comprehend. One danger, another danger. I’m tired—so tired. If I agree to help...
YOU MUST HELP.
...then what happens after?
There was a brief pause, then,
YOU MOVE ON. I GET TO DIE. AND...I WILL SHOW YOU THINGS BEFORE THIS IS DONE.
THIS WAY...
The contact snapped. Breathing hard, Flinx sat up sharply. Nearby, Pip’s eyes flashed open, her pleated wings unfurled, and in a couple of quick beats she had coiled herself so tightly around his left arm and shoulder that he had to coax her to relax lest she cut off the flow of blood to his hand.
Around him, all was peaceful and normal. Decorative flying things flitted through the moist, perfumed air of the relaxation chamber. Exotic flora thrust strange tendrils and leaves toward the artificial light. Bubbles of light water rose toward the upper siphon as water danced and ran down the artificial waterfall that was the centerpiece of the chamber.
It had been no dream. Having experienced dreams and—other things—Flinx knew the difference all too well. But who—or what—had been in his head? Remarkably, with one notable exception it was more like himself than any other mind with which he had ever been in contact. More akin to his own than Truzenzuzex, or Bran Tse-Mallory, or Clarity, or anyone, human or otherwise. Vaguely, it reminded him not of someone, but of something, else. He shook his head, trying to clear it.
The urgency had been profound, the need overwhelming. He felt that he had no choice but to comply. The contact had spoken of its lot. Mine, Flinx thought, apparently is to deal with the needs of others to the exclusion of my own.
Another danger. Impending, the contact had declaimed. Always another danger. Always another threat. Actually, he knew he did not have to accede. He could continue on his way, searching for the wandering Tar-Aiym weapons platform, fulfilling the request made by Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex. Until, successful or otherwise, he returned to live out the balance of his abnormal, tormented life with the one person, the one woman, with whom he had grown comfortable.
But—there was something else. Something that smacked of weight and importance. Something nonspecific yet holding out matchless promise.
I will show you things before this is done.
He could not resist. The import of that vow spread throughout his being, saturated his self with suggestion. His damnable curiosity, getting in the way of common sense again. He sighed heavily. Another pause. Another shift. Another detour.
Until this point, the Teacher had been silent. Watching, recording, striving to interpret without interposing itself or its own opinions. It had been well-made, and meticulously programmed. Now, as its master sat on the side of the lounge and pondered, it finally spoke.
“All preparations for departure from this system are completed. Shall I resume the vector along which we were traveling when our journey was interrupted?”
“No.” Having made up his mind, Flinx did not hesitate. “Change in course, change in plans. We’re going back to the Commonwealth.”
“Back?” The ship-mind sounded uncertain, a condition with which it was not overly familiar. “But the last known projected track of the object that we are seeking indicates that—”
“New course,” Flinx interrupted concisely. “Back to the Commonwealth. We need to pay a visit to another colony world. One we haven’t visited before. Which means you will likely have to change your appearance yet again.”
The Teacher had expressed its uncertainty. Having had it noted, it now proceeded to straightforward compliance. That, too, was part of its noble programming.
“Destination?”
Lying back on the lounge, Flinx stretched out and placed his folded hands behind his head. A few flying things fluttered past between his gaze and the ceiling. Quivering, a curling, animate vine worked its way into his line of sight and hung there, a bright green question mark. A mirror of his whole life, he reflected. He remembered the ship’s request.
“Small place,” he responded. “Of no particular significance. Out near the border. Repler.”
The soft hum of certain physical states of matter being manipulated by energy and higher mathematics penetrated the sanctum. Out, far out at the forefront of the ship, a deep purple refulgence appeared in front of the center of the great Caplis generator. It grew rapidly in dimensions and strength. The Teacher began to move. In a short while it had passed beyond the boundaries of the outermost world of the Arrawd system and back out into the emptiness that was the Blight. Changeover occurred and the ship slipped into that otherness of reality that was space-plus, allowing it not to ignore or defy the speed of light but to avoid it.
On a minor colony world within the far reaches of the Commonwealth, something was stirring. Something soul-less and inimical. It had to be stopped, and soon. Not unlike the evil that threatened from within the astronomical masque that was the Great Emptiness.
The difference was that in this instance, instead of seeking help for himself, Flinx had been called upon to provide it for someone else.
About the Author
ALAN DEAN FOSTER has written in a variety of genres, including hard science fiction, fantasy, horror, detective, western, historical, and contemporary fiction. He is the author of the New York Times bestseller Star Wars: The Approaching Storm, as well as novelizations of several films, including Star Wars, the first three Alien films, and Alien Nation. His novel Cyber Way won the Southwest Book Award for Fiction in 1990, the first science fiction work ever to do so. Foster and his wife, JoAnn Oxley, live in Prescott, Arizona, in a house built of brick that was salvaged from an early-twentieth-century miners’ brothel. He is currently at work on several new novels and media projects.
BY ALAN DEAN FOSTER
Published by Ballantine Books
The Black Hole
Cachalot
Dark Star
The Metrognome and Other Stories
Midworld
Nor Crystal Tears
Sentenced to Prism
Splinter of the Mind’s Eye
Star Trek Logs One–Ten
Voyage to the City of the Dead
. . . Who Needs Enemies?
With Friends Like These . . .
Mad Amos
The Howling Stones
Parallelities
THE ICERIGGER TRILOGY
Icerigger
Mission to Moulokin
The Deluge Drivers
THE ADVENTURES OF FLINX OF THE COMMONWEALTH
For Love of Mother-Not
The Tar-Aiym-Krang
Orphan Star
The End of the Matter
Bloodhype
Flinx in Flux
Mid-Flinx
Flinx’s Folly
Sliding Scales
Running from the Deity
THE DAMNED
Book One: A Call to Arms
Book Two: The False Mirror
Book Three: The Spoils of War
THE FOUNDING OF THE COMMONWEALTH
Running from the Deity Page 26