Eternity's End

by Jeffrey Carver

  Legroeder had not expected El'ken to be especially interested in his time with the pirates, but in fact the old Narseil's eyes seemed to grow clearer and more intense as he came to that part of his story. El'ken leaned forward, his paper-thin neck-sail rustling in the air. "You must tell me more about this pirate culture," he said, seeming to forget all about what his guests had come to ask him.

  "Well, certainly, but—" Legroeder hesitated "—later, perhaps? Right now, we're very concerned about Impris, and what the loss of that ship meant to the Narseil."

  El'ken stared at him for a moment with his large, green-yellow eyes. Then he made a wheezing sound and said, "Very well. I will do the telling, for now."

  For a moment, there was hardly a sound in the chamber except the chuckling and stirring of water in the pool. The old Narseil leaned back and looked up through the dome at the stars. "So much history," he sighed. "So many years, and so much... truth lost." He peered at Legroeder, his eyes burning. "Do you want to know the truth—not just about Impris, but about why my people and yours were the losers in the War of a Thousand Suns?"

  Legroeder frowned in puzzlement. "I'm not sure what you mean. I always thought that the Narseil mostly kept out of the war. Wasn't it just between human worlds? McGinnis implied there was more to it, but he never finished telling us—"

  El'ken interrupted him with a loud hiss, his sail quivering with anger. "Your ignorance is appalling."

  Legroeder drew back, stung.

  "But at least you are willing to admit it, and that is in your favor," the Narseil added. He rose, shaking like a leaf on a tree. "I will tell you what I can. Since Robert McGinnis seems to have paid for it with his life."

  Legroeder took a shallow breath, saying nothing.

  El'ken walked alongside his desk, touching book ends and compad controls. He made a sound through his gills that was equal parts rumble and sigh. "I have spent my life trying to establish the truth, and to record it so that others may one day benefit from it. Too many of my own people don't even know it. But your people—" The Narseil turned back to his guests. "The only Human I ever knew who cared about the truth of those days was Robert McGinnis. And he struggled against terrible obstacles to keep his work alive. Terrible obstacles. Do you know what I refer to?"

  Legroeder shook his head.

  "He did not tell you?" El'ken said. "No, I suppose he would not. Or could not. Something happened that kept him from finishing with you. Hssss." The Narseil returned to his bench seat. "Let me tell you a story about Robert McGinnis, and how as a young man he served in the Centrist Worlds Navy."

  "As a space marine, yes?" Legroeder said.

  "Hssssh, do not interrupt! This human named Robert served on a warship that was sent to fight against an incursion of pirates in the region of the Great Barrier Nebula. In those days, there was an effort to combat the pirates—back before the Centrist Worlds lost their spine and integrity, and surrendered the region to the raiders. Young Robert's ship engaged the pirates and fought a great battle—but in the end, they were outnumbered and outgunned. They were neither captured nor destroyed, though. Instead, they were left adrift. And their ship drifted into a region of the Flux known as the Sargasso."

  "I know that area," Legroeder said. Seeing incomprehension on Morgan's and Harriet's faces, he explained. "In the Flux, you know, space itself flows in currents, like rivers and streams—which is how rigger ships move, as well. But the Sargasso is a dead zone, where almost all motion ceases. It's deadly for ships, because you can be stranded—just like old-time sailing ships that were sometimes becalmed, and left drifting helpless in the middle of an ocean."

  "That is correct," said El'ken. "And that is where the pirates left them. Only a handful of crewmembers remained alive on the warship, and they subsisted for a long time on the remnants of the ship's stores. Eventually, they drifted to the edge of the region, but at that point they had no functional net controls."

  "Jesus," said Legroeder.

  "Exactly," said El'ken. "They were nearing the end of their supplies when a ship appeared. Robert—who had received severe head wounds in the battle—lost consciousness and knew almost nothing of what happened from that time until much later. But he never saw his crewmates again.

  "The next clear thing he knew, he was on a ship coming into port—Faber Eridani, to be precise. He had been treated for his wounds, and his facial structure had been rebuilt. He had also been given neural implants. Though the implants helped maintain his brain function, his rescuers did not install them for altruistic reasons."

  Morgan stirred at the mention of implants. "Like your friend Jakus?" she asked Legroeder.

  "I do not know of this Jakus, nor do I know why you people insist upon continually interrupting," said the Narseil. "But yes, he'd received implants of considerable sophistication. It was, I imagine, like having a robot intelligence constantly interacting with his own intelligence. They provided much memory support to replace cognitive faculties he'd lost due to his injuries. But they also, at times, tried to control him." The Narseil paused. "Yes, I know—that's what worries you about all implants. An understandable, but not entirely accurate, worry. At times, Robert's appeared dormant, benign, and he could almost forget that they were there. But they never stopped working."

  "Working for whom?" asked Legroeder.

  El'ken gazed at him piercingly. "I think you know."

  "The pirates? He didn't look like a man who was under the control of Golen Space pirates."

  "I did not say he was 'under the control' of the pirates. I said that the implants tried to control him. But he fought them—subtly, so as not to be in obvious rebellion. For thirty years he fought them! You wonder why he secluded himself, why he lived in a small fortress in the wild? It was because he dared not let others see the struggles he fought. At times, it was a near thing. At times, he almost succumbed to their control. Indeed, he had to do some of their bidding to persuade them of his usefulness. But ironically, it was partly because of his torment that he was so devoted to gathering and preserving information. His passion for the truth was his own private bulwark against the encroachment of this other power." El'ken paused, and for a few moments his eyes and thoughts seemed focused on something very far away.

  "But why didn't he have the implants removed?" asked Morgan.

  "Ah," said the Narseil. "The implantation was too thorough. The augments were bonded, not just to his cerebral cortex, but also to his—what is the word?—autonomic nervous system. He went to several specialists, but in the end they determined that the integration was so complete that there was no way to remove the implants without killing him in the process."

  "Just like Maris," Legroeder muttered. "The bastards."

  El'ken gave a stiff-necked nod. "And so he lived, and fought his silent, lonely battle, all those years. Until, presumably, the day you came to visit. Now, perhaps, he is at rest."

  "But what did they want with him? Why did they bother?" Legroeder asked.

  "Indeed," said El'ken. "Did they send him back as a spy? As a weapon to be held in reserve for some future need? Probably both."

  "Then," said Morgan, "in a way it might have been a blessing that he died in the fire."

  "That may be," El'ken said. "But a very sad blessing, nevertheless."

  Legroeder's thoughts flickered back to McGinnis's last cries to them... to their escape from the house, somehow under attack... the dog shuddering in a seizure, as though it were under attack... and the smoke and fire billowing under the impenetrable security field. The memory was profoundly disturbing.

  El'ken rustled his neck-sail. "What's important now, I think, is not what drove McGinnis, or drove against him—but the information he fought so hard to preserve."

  "Which is now entrusted to us," Harriet said.

  "Yes. Not just to preserve, but to use. Would you excuse me a moment?" The Narseil walked along the gravel pool perimeter, until he stood under a stone overhang. A soft spray of water came on, misting him. H
e made a sound like a weary sigh, then came back to sit again on the bench seat. "Forgive me. It is my skin. It grows dry, these days. But Robert sent you to me to learn about what really happened in the War of a Thousand Suns. And so I will tell you."

  "Is there a connection to what happened to him?" Legroeder asked.

  "In a way there is. Yes..."

  * * *

  The old Narseil knew far more about human history than Legroeder did—probably more than all three of the humans put together. He spoke softly, almost as if addressing a group of students.

  The War of a Thousand Suns (he said) actually involved between thirty and forty human worlds. It was in many respects a conflict between two divergent elements of starfaring humanity: the so-called Kyber worlds and the human Centrist Worlds. The Kyber had embraced highly sophisticated neural implants of all kinds—and as a people, had all but subsumed their humanity in a maelstrom of cybernetic consciousness. The Centrist Worlds, on the other hand, espoused separation from cyber-consciousness, declaring this to be an essential foundation of human reality.

  "But the Centrists won," said Legroeder, realizing even as he said it how thin his knowledge was.

  "Did they, now?" asked El'ken. "Do you really know what happened to the Kyber—what they were then, and what they've become?" The Narseil hissed softly. "I thought not," he said, and continued his explanation.

  The Kyber were a frantically creative and yet dangerous element of humanity. Though they resided largely in off-planet locations, such as asteroids and artificial habitats, they sought leadership over a proposed, massive, migrational movement inward through the galaxy, toward rich clusters of promising star systems. Indeed, it was for this region of space that the war was named—though in fact the war had as much to do with racial prejudice and economic position as it did dreams of far-flung colonies. Still, the Kyber claimed ludditism on the part of the Centrists, a claim not without some justification. But neither were the Kyber innocent victims. Arrogant and ruthless, they commanded the finest technology in the human realm, including weapons technology.

  And yet, despite their technological advantage, the Kyber lacked the numbers and the internal cohesion needed to fight effectively against the joined forces of the Centrist Worlds. In the end, they lost the war. But they exacted a terrible price from the Centrist Worlds, in destruction and social disorder.

  "But what does all this have to do with the Narseil? You said that—"

  "We were betrayed—yes!" barked El'ken, eyes glinting. "A betrayal which to this day has never been acknowledged—though it changed the course of both human and Narseil history."

  Throughout most of the war, the Narseil were allied with the Centrist Worlds—not because they particularly wanted to be involved in the conflict, but because they thought the Centrist Worlds were the most stable. The riggers of the Narseil Rigging Institute had long been developing interesting new synergies with the riggers of the Centrist Worlds, something the Kyber worlds found a threat to their own hoped-for dominance in starfaring science. "But in the end," El'ken said, and his voice tightened until it was clear that his words were underlain by a very old anger, "the Centrists decided that a fragile alliance with a nonhuman species was less important to them than ending the costly war. They broke their alliance with the Narseil, in exchange for concessions from the Kyber. On the surface, the Kyber surrendered the fight—but in reality, the Centrists weakened themselves, without even realizing they had done so. Without the shared skill and knowledge of the Narseil, they could never reach the Cluster of a Thousand Suns—not in a practical way. They're too distant; the undertaking too expensive. But by the time the Centrists realized this, the will to attempt such things had withered away in the long aftermath of the war."

  "But why such an abrupt shift—if the Narseil were allies—?"

  El'ken waved away the question. "There were numerous small events, and much racially-motivated suspicion. But what finally provided the excuse to break the alliance was the disappearance of Impris." El'ken gazed up through the star-dome for a moment, then continued with a sigh. "The Narseil were accused of hijacking the ship in order to obtain details of strategic technologies supposedly carried by one of the passengers. There was never the slightest evidence of any such technical secrets, on or off the ship. But most of humanity was all too willing to believe the accusation. You might find some of the writings of that period interesting. They could teach you a lot about your own people."

  Legroeder wasn't sure he wanted to know.

  "By blaming the Narseil for the loss of Impris, the leaders of the Centrist Worlds were able to justify excluding my people from the colonizing effort that everyone assumed would follow at the end of the war. And by doing that, they unwittingly strengthened the position of the Kyber worlds—the very people they were fighting. Such was the price of the peace."

  "I don't see—" Morgan began, but was silenced by a sharp glance from El'ken.

  "That was the end of collaborative rigging between the Narseil and the Centrist Worlds. It left my people impoverished from the collapse of trade, and the Centrist Worlds a parody of their former power and vision. And history was written to perpetuate the lie." El'ken's voice grew even sharper. "Who knows what technologies went undeveloped, what areas of knowledge untapped, because of the breakup of that alliance—particularly rigging knowledge, which not only might have taken us to new star clusters, but might also have helped to explain such mysteries as the disappearance of Impris herself? Who knows! And yet, look at the Kyber worlds, which supposedly lost the war. Their expansionism was restricted, for a time. But they have not remained idle—no."

  "But we hardly even hear about most of the Kyber worlds anymore," Harriet said.

  "Perhaps not. But they haven't gone away. They've changed some of their names, to be sure. And they work in other ways now. But they are not idle." El'ken laced his long, green fingers together and gazed down at his folded hands, in contemplative silence.

  He looked up again. "It was a shrewd maneuver by the Kyber leaders. They would have lost the war anyway, had they continued to fight. But by breaking the Narseil-Centrist alliance, they crippled the growth of the Centrist Worlds' power and influence, even while appearing to cede victory to them."

  "You mean, by undercutting the Centrists' joint explorations with the Narseil?"

  "Of course," said El'ken. "But it wasn't just a matter of lost technology. The collaboration had served as a catalyst, inspiring new efforts. Now, with that gone and the real costs of the war hitting home, many of the Centrist Worlds became insular, more concerned with their own economies than with huge investments in exploration, which might not pay dividends for decades. Many, like Faber Eridani, went through their own post-war upheavals, further undermining the preservation of truth. You can read my own writings on the subject, if you wish to know more about it." El'ken's eyes again seemed to focus elsewhere. "Among my people, bitterness lingered long after the war's end. For many years, the Narseil drew away from humanity."

  "But there's commerce now," said Harriet.

  "Yes—now. But not nearly what we once had. Tell me—how were you greeted, when you arrived here?"

  "Like dogmeat," Legroeder said.

  "Not with great friendliness," El'ken conceded. "Yes, commerce has been renewed, haltingly. But how much has been lost between the cultures as a result of the betrayal? How much trust? Intellectual exchange? How much fruit of cooperation? What knowledge might have been gained if we had explored the Cluster of a Thousand Suns? It is incalculable."

  El'ken abruptly stood up. Breathing huskily, he returned to his mist unit, where he stood facing the pool. Legroeder watched Harriet making notes in her compad. When El'ken seemed in no hurry to return, Legroeder got up and walked to the edge of the cavern dome and peered out into space. It all seemed so changeless out there. But he knew it was not. Though it was invisible to the eye, the expanse of interstellar space was laced together by the powerful currents of the Flux. Impris is out
there somewhere, he thought. The Flying Dutchman of the Flux... marooned in eternity.

  El'ken returned at that moment, picking up as though he had never paused. "It is my belief that descendants of the Kyber are using Impris even now, for their own purposes."

  "Meaning—?"

  "Do you have to ask? You, of all people?"

  Legroeder's voice caught. He had never, in seven years with the pirates, been privy to information about Impris. But he'd heard rumors—as had McGinnis. And he had his own capture as evidence. "I know what I think. I want to know what you think."

  "Fair enough. But first, let me ask—do you know who the pirates of Golen Space really are?" The Narseil turned from one to another, his gaze probing. "Any of you?"

  Harriet remained silent, though obviously troubled by the question.

  "I can tell you who they are," Legroeder said savagely. "They're scumbags who prey on the innocent and practice slavery. You want their names? I could give you some, but it wouldn't do you any good. They're a long way away."

  "So they are," said the Narseil. "But that's not what I meant. I meant, who are they as a people? Where do they come from?"

  Legroeder shrugged. "All over the place. A lot of them start out as captives, and get converted, or tortured into cooperating—or—" he tapped his temple "—they get implants, and they don't have the strength to resist the way Robert McGinnis did."

  "Indeed. But I'm talking about the core population. Do you not know? I'm talking about the Free Kyber—the descendants of the Kyber revolution."

  Legroeder's mouth opened, but it took him a moment to find words. "Free Kyber? Are you saying that the Kyber worlds are the sponsors of the pirates?" He suddenly remembered Jakus saying something about the Kyber. Kyber implants.

  "Some of them. Do you not know the term 'Free Kyber' from your period of captivity?"

  Legroeder shook his head in bewilderment. "No—but I was in one outpost the whole time. I never learned much about the pirate movement as a whole." He did know that the early pirates had split off many decades ago from other spacefaring worlds, and gone to live in hidden fortresses lost in places reachable only through the Flux.