Time Past

by Maxine McArthur

  My comm link beeped at me and I jumped about half a meter into the air.

  “What is it?” I hissed, flattening my back against the wall so I could see both ends of the corridor.

  Commander, big problem. Gamet’s voice. The background noises told me she was in the Bubble. We’re reading a big energy drain in your area. It’s hard to tell because the core block is affecting sensors, but I think it’s the Invidi ship. The engines are active. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it’s affecting systems all over the station. We’re compensating as quickly as we can, but more and more are going down.

  “He’s probably using the energy to overcome the blocks.” My mind cycled frantically through alternatives.

  Do you want a Security detail up there? This was Lee.

  “Yes, send a squad up. Anyone you can spare, make sure they’re armored for plasma weapons.” Whatever Serat had thrown at me, it wasn’t a normal plasma weapon, but the armor we did have was the best protection for humans against energy weapons.

  “In the meantime, I’ll try and talk to him. Any movement from Vengeful ?”

  It hasn’t changed position, but several of the smaller ships have left their positions and joined it. The jump point is still covered, though. And the New Council ship is initializing its engines now.

  Venner was serious about leaving. The question was whether An Serat would go with her.

  Security squad’s on its way. Bubble out, said Lee.

  Halfway down the corridor was the bay where I’d left Farseer. The doors vibrated gently and if I put my ear to them I could hear an uneven hum.

  The outer doors opened at once. An Serat hadn’t even bothered to lock them. The inner airlock doors refused to open, though, because the dock inside had begun a countdown and the airlock’s recognition function could tell I wasn’t wearing a suit.

  Maybe he was leaving. But Gamet knew the difference between a ship preparing for departure and one merely running its engines. Must be the dock that couldn’t tell the difference.

  I cursed the interface’s efficiency—the functions you need least are always the last to go down—and wrenched open the emergency locker in the floor. Pulled on the first suit that popped out, rammed the helmet on my head, sucked twice to make sure the air intake was clear, and tapped the inner doors open.

  Farseer lay tipped on its side, ready for the dock to “kick” it out when the space doors opened. As I’d suspected, they showed no signs of doing so. All the safety lights around the edges blinked green. The growl of the engines filled the space, competing with the roar of filters as they tried to keep the atmosphere breathable.

  I hardly recognized Farseer. The rounded curves of the Invidi ship had flattened into sharp-edged planes. Instead of a bulbous diamond shape, it was a cut diamond. In the dock’s bright spotlights the color, too, had changed. It was now a flat gray, the color of the ships that held Jocasta and the Seouras prisoner for six months. Tor gray.

  I swallowed uneasily and clipped my safety lead onto the airlock door in case the outer doors malfunctioned and opened unexpectedly. The blasted suit was too big and sagged around my knees when I walked. It felt like it had been made for someone Murdoch’s size.

  There was no sign of An Serat in the bay. Inside the ship, probably. I hoped the security detail came soon, and that they brought atmospheric suits.

  Farseer ’s hull felt different. I put my gloved hand on it, hoping to trace the tiny paths that seemed to have opened it before. Instead of the meandering snail-trails, I felt straight ridges that intersected with each other at angles, etched deep into the hull. And the thoughts... I jumped back, shaking my head to clear it. The thoughts from Farseer had an edge. The link jarred on my mind like vibrations jarring sore teeth. I could almost hear a voice, like I’d heard from the Seouras. The implant in my neck itched and throbbed.

  “Open up!” I yelled. “An Serat, we have to talk!” Then I put my hand on the ridges and thought about openings, on the principle that Farseer might still have the memory of how it worked last time. Serat had blamed my ease of access on the Tor elements, so hopefully I could still get in.

  Farther up the hull, a small square opening appeared. I stood next to it and yelled inside for Serat. No answer. The engine noise increased a level or two. Now I couldn’t hear myself shout. I stepped back and peered at the airlock indicator. No sign of Security.

  Oh, what the hell. I unclipped the safety lead and climbed into Farseer.

  Thirty-six

  Farseer had changed inside, also. The same cabin features were now lit by a sharp, blue-white light that I’d seen before—on the gray ships. The consoles still integrated seamlessly with walls but now the material was smooth and hard under my boots.

  An Serat stood right in the middle of the cabin, so big that he blocked my view of the other end.

  I squinted in the glare and checked behind me—the square opening had shut. I also checked the atmospheric indicator on my helmet before taking it off. I didn’t trust Farseer anymore.

  “Are you leaving?” I said. Foolish hope that by saying so I could make it true.

  Serat’s tentacles twitched and the outside of his suit shivered. Otherwise, no response.

  “Please leave,” I said. “Your experiment is killing my station and endangering everybody on it. Whatever the reason, it’s not worth this.”

  “You understand nothing.” The words grated from his voicebox, as unlike his usual smooth tones as the new Farseer was unlike the old.

  The hot rush of anger surprised me.

  “I know I don’t.” I yelled the words at him. “And it’s not important if I don’t understand. That’s what you don’t understand.”

  “Understanding is all.” His whole body twitched and the silver-coated tentacles curled and uncurled.

  “It’s not all, not for us. Before that, we need to have a place to go home to every night and we need to be able to sleep there in peace. We need to be able to wake up and look forward to living the rest of the day in safety. Then we can think about knowledge.”

  He said nothing.

  I was breathing fast and deep, as though I’d been running a marathon. “Don’t threaten our safety here. Please leave, either on your own or with the New Council, or give yourself up to An Barik when he comes.”

  His voicebox echoed, overlaid with a metallic twang. “Barik does not understand.”

  “You must power down and get this ship out of the station,” I said. “You’re draining our energy reserves.” As I spoke, I sidled over to what had been the main console. A quick glance told me the controls were in the same place, but there seemed to be more of them. I put my hand out, then withdrew it quickly. Nothing visible, but prickles ran along my fingers.

  “Look at this ship now. It’s more Tor than Invidi. What’s it done to you?” I could take a guess—it was treating Serat as part of the ship, a biological machine to be conquered, as the gray ship had done to the Seouras. Or tried to. I put my hand over my implant, protectively this time.

  “I am as always.” Serat’s new voice grated on my nerves, like Farseer ’s new thoughts grated on my mind.

  “Don’t you see? By allowing the Tor technology to regain its power, you let it take over you as well. You’re becoming what you seek to overcome.”

  “Not overcome. I take knowledge from all sources. All is power.” His voice took on a sly tone that I’d never heard from an Invidi before. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck. As though Serat was a puppet through which another force was speaking.

  “I am foremost among Invidi. You know of our K’Cher war.” He didn’t wait for acknowledgment. “We also know Tor in that path. How do you think,” more conversational now, “we defeat the Q’Chn? They are soldiers for K’Cher then.”

  I stood very still. The thud of my heartbeat drowned the irregular purr of Farseer ’s engines.

  “Interested?” Serat swung his tentacles almost carelessly. “Invidi are the only ones who defeat Q’Chn. Not
all Invidi. I, Serat, defeat the Q’Chn for other Invidi because I, Serat, understand Tor.”

  We’d always wondered how the Invidi won against the Q’Chn. If Serat was telling the truth and he used Tor technology to defeat them, Farseer could be a valuable weapon in our present fight against the Q’Chn. If we could control it.

  “You ask me to leave,” he said. “How will you defeat your enemy?”

  “We’ll manage.” As I spoke, I reached out casually to the console. Someone’s got to turn this ship off.

  An Serat swished one tentacle and his entire suited form glowed. The air crackled with fluorescent flickers between us.

  Shit, here it comes. I crouched in futile reaction against the console.

  Serat’s tentacle slapped down beside me and I twitched uncontrollably as a slight shock ran through the surface. But it was nothing like the time he attacked me in the core.

  Serat stood swaying. His tentacle, which was outstretched and fixed against the console, gradually lost tension and slid off. The patina of his suit was dull, fading; something I’d never seen before. It reminded me of what had happened to some of the Seouras in the gray ships— Murdoch and I had found their bodies, life sucked out of them until they were fossilized husks.

  I started forward, horrified, then stopped before my outstretched hand touched his graying suit. I couldn’t leave him like this. But before I tried to “disconnect” him from Farseer, I’d have to power down the engines, reinitialize the dock controls. Disconnect from Jocasta’s core...

  “I’ll get you out.” I turned to the console. It could have as easily been me caught in the trap. Serat probably wouldn’t get me out if our positions were reversed, but that didn’t matter.

  The controls didn’t want to cooperate. Patterns of triangles shifted, formed mazes under my gloves. The simple shutdown sequence became impossibly intricate. On the edge of hearing something seemed to mock me. The same tone that Serat had used.

  “Dammit,” I said aloud. “ Farseer, where are you?” Surely the original Invidi elements remained and could beat the Tor, as the Invidi beat the Tor in their long war.

  An Serat didn’t move. No tremor shook his suit or tentacles. He might be fighting the ship within his mind, but he couldn’t help me.

  I pulled off one glove slowly and hitched back the too-long sleeve. I’d have to place my hand on the console, as I did when I first entered the cabin with Murdoch in Sydney. But Murdoch wasn’t here to revive me if I lost consciousness this time. It took a moment before I could breathe calmly enough to lay my hand on the controls.

  The cold was so unexpected that I gasped in shock. Then again as prickles studded my fingertips and ran along my palm. Lines of pain ran up my arm and I blinked uncontrollably. Felt myself jerk away from the console. The ship had merely tasted me, licked the surface of my mind, but I felt its need to absorb, to take over, to conquer, to turn all others into itself.

  I tried to swallow but my throat stuck, dry and sore. How much would the Seouras implant help me? Or was I mistaken and would it provide an opening for the ship to do to me whatever it had done to Serat? I didn’t want to end up a gray husk.

  I replaced my hand and tried to reach the part of Farseer that I could recognize as Invidi. Remember the feeling of the first time I connected; inquisitive, interested. It wanted company.

  The pain eased a little. Enough for me to cut the engines. And now I had to try to cut the connection to Jocasta’s core...

  No, said Farseer.

  I screamed and pulled my hand off the console, sinking into a ball of shuddering horror. Oh shit oh shit, what was it? It stimulated all my fear and pain centers at once no no I can’t do it... Not and stay sane.

  I took some deep breaths, then stood up unsteadily. We’ll have to strengthen the block from Jocasta’s systems. Or tow the damn thing out with a shuttle and hope the opsys stays up.

  You’re going to give up? said a familiar voice in my mind. Henoit. He felt very close. The ache in my limbs, the trembling eased. Whenever he was close I felt so well.

  You don’t often give up.

  I shook my head and stepped back from the console, beyond caring that I was reacting to someone who wasn’t there.

  “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

  I am strong.

  “You’re dead.”

  That does not make me weak.

  I held my head with one gloved, one ungloved hand. How can an imaginary voice help me?

  Then I reached out with my bare hand to the console. Whether I received help from imaginary voices or not, I was the one who brought Farseer from the past and then from Vengeful. It was my greed for knowledge as much as An Serat’s that created this whole mess. So it’s my job to stop it.

  Once again I reached for the Invidi part of Farseer. I thought of all the things the Invidi had done to help humans, how many lives their intervention on Earth had saved. I thought of the way they shared their jump drive technology, even if only among the Four. I remembered the wonder and excitement of my early conversations with An Barik when he first arrived on the station.

  Stabs of pain ran up my arm and the unspeakable images that attacked me before grew clearer, but something got in the way. A warmth that covered my whole body. The memory of pleasures such as gentle sunlight on bare skin, the sound of a bird warbling, Henoit’s hand on my thigh, Murdoch’s breath on my cheek...

  Farseer could not touch me while the warmth was there. But I could reach inside it, past the pain and fear, and find the connections with Jocasta. And find glimpses of a world seen through its senses. So strange that later only a few disjointed images would remain: the way a skin that was not mine stretched against vacuum, a blinding bright landscape of stars not born and those long dead, the mysterious chaotic ballet of the very small...

  Jocasta as an immense, filigreed life form in its turn supporting other life. A tree was the closest my human experience could come to a metaphor. Farseer was attached to the tree with uncountable gray tendrils, and where they touched, the gray spread out into the tree, halting the flow of its sap.

  So many connections. I began to pull out the tendrils. One by one. Another, then another...

  I grew slower, lost sight of the next tendril. Where did it touch? How long had I been doing this? Blurry. Getting cold. Henoit, don’t you dare leave me here alone...

  Enough. He drew back, taking me with him. Not, I hoped vaguely, into eternity yet.

  Then I was sinking down against the console, blinking in the light. Had I managed to keep Farseer away from the opsys or not? At least I probably bought us some time.

  An Serat’s massive shape loomed over me. I looked up at it and groaned. Staggered to my feet, stood behind him, and pushed experimentally. The air buzzed and sizzled around us. Too tired. I should sit down now and take a breather. Not cold anymore. Warm in here. So warm I was panting.

  My heart jumped as something urged me to get up. Move, said Henoit’s voice. Confused, I scrambled to my feet.

  Then it hit me. I was getting short of breath. The ship— I couldn’t call it Farseer anymore—was depressurizing the cabin. I fumbled the helmet, nearly dropped it, then pulled it on. A couple of deep breaths and I was lucid again.

  Serat, have to get him out. I pushed him again. He moved, but in one piece, like a piece of furniture on wheels. How did he get in through that tiny hatch? I thumped on the side of the cabin with one fist, but nothing happened.

  Unwillingly, I laid my palm against the cold surface again. Think of an exit, a big one. It hurt, all over, worse and worse and worse until I couldn’t remember what I was doing... Then I got dizzy. Henoit’s presence trying to overlay the other, unpleasant voice of the ship. The cabin spun and I forgot about the pain as I concentrated all my efforts on staying upright. As I did so, a tall section of the hull gaped open, letting in a diagonal stream of light from Jocasta’s docking bay so yellow it looked solid.

  I snatched my hand away from the hull and shoved An Serat with
every scrap of strength I had. Not fast enough, he barely moved. Henoit, if you’re going to be useful, you could give me a rush of H’digh strength... But all I had were overstretched human muscles. Quick, before the door shuts. Push ... Serat rocked forward and out. I nearly fell flat behind him on the deck of the ship but managed to scramble through after him as fast as I could.

  An Serat had tipped over on the deck of the landing bay. How to get him to the airlock? I looked at his silver bulk hopelessly, when a movement caught my eye. A Security squad was running from the airlock toward us. The thud of their boots vibrated under my feet.

  “Can you carry him out?” I waved at the leader and pointed to the Invidi. The leader gave me a thumbs-up and a male voice echoed acknowledgment in my suit’s earpieces.

  The eight of them—Murdoch must have left parts of the rings unpatrolled to get this many—slid an emergency stretcher from the airlock lockers, rolled Serat onto it, and trotted him out of the bay.

  I followed more slowly, trying to get my breath. The warmth of Henoit’s presence was gone, and I felt cold and shaky. Thank you, I said inwardly. Hoping, perhaps, for a response, but none came.

  The ship’s engine hum had ceased. I might have bought us some time, but we had to get it out now.

  “We came into the bay,” explained the leader of the Security squad when I joined them in the corridor. “But we couldn’t get into the ship and it seemed to be powering up to leave, so I got my people back in the airlock.” Sergeant Desai, a squat, powerful man with elegant dark brows, spoke slowly and precisely. His helmet sat on his shoulder, as mine did, but the others kept theirs on.

  “Glad you’re here.” I nodded at the Invidi. “He’s too heavy for me.”

  Desai nodded solemnly. “I’ve never seen one of them down. Makes you confused when you don’t know if he’s on his face or his back.”