“I am not certain,” Jeaves replied. “But ship’s monitors indicate that their life signs are strong. I recommend against interfering. However, I am asking Delilah to investigate.”
Ik bent to examine Bandicut and Antares. Both were breathing, and neither was changing color. Beyond that, what else could he do?
*They are both physically unharmed.*
Ik started. His stones had been so quiet of late, it had not occurred to him to look to them for assistance. /What about their mental state?/
*More difficult to assess. But they should be aided by their stones.*
Ik grunted, and looked up as Delilah descended toward them. He rocked back on his haunches to give the halo room to work. Delilah’s glowing ring expanded slowly, until it encircled both Antares and Bandicut. It began to produce a soft sound, like the wind whistling through stone passages in a high place. Ik felt a momentary dizziness. “What is it doing?”
“Learning,” Jeaves said. “If your companions are injured or do not survive, we will want to know why. I suggest you move back.”
“Hrrm. I suggest you worry more about how to keep these two people safe, and ask Delilah what she can do about that,” Ik growled. He had no intention of moving from his friends’ side.
Li-Jared, behind him, was pacing around the bridge, muttering to himself. He cast an occasional, worried glance in Ik’s direction. Ik didn’t know what Li-Jared was thinking, but if that cloud out there made a threatening move, Ik was pretty sure he could count on a yell from the Karellian.
*
For the quarx, it all seemed to make a terrifying kind of sense. She had come back to life with a startling degree of clarity about previous incarnations, clear enough memory—once she’d gotten over her initial shock—to know that having this much memory was unusual. Was it just coincidence, or had the manner of her last death yanked her back for some unusual need or purpose? Maybe it had something to do with that terrible dark thing hovering at the edges of her awareness. Was she here to confront the monster that had destroyed her world? Or for something altogether different?
She had a mental snapshot of that scene, but also many others reverberating in her memory. Hosts and friends ranging down through the timeline—the Fffff’tink, and the Rohengen, and the Osos, and the ones whose name sounded like a vibrating guitar string, and the human, who actually would have understood a guitar string. And so many more. The memories reverberated like voices in a crowded room. She could hardly sort one from another, or even be sure she could distinguish her own memories from those of her host.
Did every life start this way?
So many relationships...she desperately wished she could take time now to look back at them all, and understand who had meant what to her. But that wasn’t possible; there was a deadly dark thing waiting out there, and she needed to confront it.
But...was this being called Deep that thing? She didn’t think so, although Bandicut feared it. Indeed, he felt it had cost her her last life. Nevertheless, Deep might have some knowledge of the terrible thing, and it now also had knowledge of quarx.
All these thoughts took approximately as long as ten of John Bandicut’s heartbeats.
And then she suddenly remembered Deep, really remembered it, not from Bandicut’s memories but from her own. She remembered visiting Deep, and being caught up in a fantastic tangle of images—memories reaching as far back in time as her own—glimpses of places that were, she realized with startlement, possibly not of this universe at all. There was a gap following that—but she remembered flying back to rejoin with Bandicut. And she remembered dying.
All that took several more of Bandicut’s heartbeats.
It left her reeling, and she retreated for a while to speak with John and get to know him again. Charli, he called her, or so she chose to hear it. He had known several Charlies; she could be a Charli.
Her initial tentativeness and fear were not feigned; she really did feel shy in the presence of this person to whom she was instantly, intimately connected. But she was also determined. She sped through Bandicut’s thoughts and memories, learning, even as he was inviting her to take a look. I was brought here for a reason. I am sure of it. I must not let my fears deter me. The look through John’s memories was fascinating, and she vowed to return. But right now, it wasn’t what she needed to learn. That was over there in the one called Deep. It had killed her, touching Deep before, but maybe it wouldn’t this time. Deep had touched the dark one, or some agent of it. Deep knew things she needed to know.
John Bandicut already sensed her intention, and wanted to stop her launch outward to Deep. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. There’s too much at stake.
She took a quick look around to take in her surroundings, the ship and the friends gathered here. Then—afraid, but determined not to fail—she leaped out into space. She touched the outer fringes of the dark cloud, and then, with a shiver, the real presence of the thing. She was startled by the mood she sensed: curiosity and urgency, but no hostility, no intention to destroy.
She reached out again: diverse strands of thought. There was the part that had destroyed the dark agent, one strand among many. She could find no language. She continued looking. To her surprise, she felt the presence of someone who, like herself, was trying to find her way into Deep from the outside. Who is this? She seemed rather like the human—different, but familiar. Thespi?
So many strands. Here was one rooted in the very fabric of space and time, and apparently able to exert influence over both. And here was one that stretched out in many different directions, to make contact with others. And here was one that was almost...quarxlike.
She felt a ripple of surprise. Quarx? Her prior incarnation had died. So what was this? Another quarx inhabiting Deep?
Cautiously, she reached out to the presence. She had no memories of any contact with another quarx since the death of the homeworld. It felt very strange even to think of it.
/// Hello? Can you hear me? ///
The other presence stirred. Its response sounded a little like her own voice, an echo.
<<< Hello? >>>
She waited for more, then tried:
/// Are you quarx? ///
The pause swelled to a bursting point. Then:
<<< I...think so. I’m not certain.
Who are you? >>>
Feeling a combination of disbelief and excitement, she answered,
/// I am known to my host as...Charli.
But my real name is—///
She released a series of wails—ending in a long, shuddering shriek.
The other sounded puzzled.
<<< I am known as Charlie also.
And this is my real name— >>>
The sound reverberated from a greater distance, but was otherwise identical to the name she had given.
A stunned silence followed. Finally she said, softly so as to ensure that she was not actually producing an echo:
/// Do you know John Bandicut? ///
And the voice that could not be an echo, but sounded like one, came back:
<<< Of course.
He knows me as Charlene. >>>
That sent the stars reeling around her, and she had to resist the impulse to pull away in shock.
/// You are Charlene?
John Bandicut believes you died.
I believed you died.
You must have, because I am the one
who followed. ///
The echolike voice hesitated, before answering:
<<< I did...
At least, I felt that I was dying.
Even now, I don’t feel quite...alive.
I don’t know why I am here. >>>
Another pause.
<<< Did he mourn me when I died? >>>
The new Charli reflected on the memories she had viewed and said softly:
/// Yes, he did. ///
A soft acknowledgment came in answer, and for a few moments silence filled the space around them. Charli drew Charlene�
�s memories to herself, trying to understand and find a place for her. The moment of Charlene’s death was clear, and yet not. There was a sharp break—no, more like a rent—in Charlene’s memory. But instead of ending there, it was followed by a blur. And then, somehow, this Charlene-echo was caught up in Deep’s web of consciousness.
The Charlene-echo seemed to sense her struggle to understand.
<<< I came to Deep to learn,
but I went too far.
The visions...overwhelming.
I tried to bring them back to John Bandicut.
But it hurt, terribly, and he was suffering.
I’d been torn away. >>>
Charli glimpsed the memory, the agony of John Bandicut at the loss of his quarx. Something in Charlene had been hurt beyond healing. Death was upon her; she felt herself dying even as she tried to return. And then?
A blur.
/// Why are you here?
Are you... really Charlene? ///
Silence hung between them, until the other said,
<<< I’m not certain.
I have memories, but... >>>
Charli listened carefully, trying to hear the nuances, and feel the thoughts of the other. It felt different from the Charlene she thought she should feel. Was this really just a ghost, an echo of the real Charlene? Maybe the distinction didn’t matter.
/// Can you communicate with Deep now?
Can you speak, and be understood? ///
The answer came in a strained whisper, as if her question had pushed the other back into a place of darkness and uncertainty.
<<< A little. Yes. >>>
Charli pressed.
/// Then will you help me? ///
And the answer seemed to whisper from a great distance:
<<< I will try. >>>
*
It was the strangest thing Delilah had ever encountered, and she scarcely knew what to make of it. As a fractal being, and kin of the shadow-people, she sometimes thought of matter-life as a kind of flat projection—intelligent, to be sure, and fully sentient, but frustratingly limited. But the matter-life on this ship seemed capable of far more interactions outside of their dimensions than Delilah would have imagined.
She had helped a little, adjusting the fields just so, to make a stronger connection with the spacetime disturbance known as Deep. The matter-life called Antares had not asked, but it was clear she wanted to make contact. And without taking risks, how could they learn anything?
The risk had paid off, with powerful emotional crosscurrents. But the reappearance of the quarx in the Bandicut had made it all blossom, maybe too fast. Now both the Antares and the Bandicut lay motionless, in states that left the other matter-life in dismay. Delilah, looking closely, could see that they were not dead or dying—and that they remained, in some fashion, in contact with Deep.
Delilah was uncertain what to do. She was supposed to help, and she certainly wanted to do no harm. Perhaps it would be best if she just closed off that spacetime channel, and let the connection fade.
*
“John Bandicut! John Bandicut! Can you hear me?”
That was Ik’s voice. Bandicut’s return to awareness was accompanied by a shuddering sensation. Was it the ship, in trouble? He blinked his eyes open painfully. Ik was bent over him, fingers digging urgently into his arms, shaking him. A halo was encircling him with a pulsing light, chiming.
Bandicut’s mind soared out, looking for Charlie, then sprang back to make sense of Ik. “Stop shaking me!” he croaked.
“Hrahh, you are all right?” Ik breathed, letting him go.
Wincing, Bandicut pushed himself up to a sitting position. The halo seemed to take this as a cue, and rose back toward the ceiling, its sound dying away. Bandicut closed his eyes and took a deep breath. /Charlie? Are you there?/
In response, he heard a sound like something sliding quickly down a wire. And then:
/// My God. ///
The quarx was struggling to reestablish itself in its quarters. /Are you hurt? Did you touch Deep, did you touch that thing out there?/ Bandicut asked, trying to be still enough to let the quarx recover.
/// I don’t...yes. Yes, I touched it.
But I don’t—///
The quarx hesitated.
/// It was as if I touched a part of myself.
Except it wasn’t. ///
/Part of yourself?/ Bandicut asked, puzzled. But before he could pursue the question, he saw Antares sitting up. He reached over and touched her arm, and felt in her gaze a kind of shell-shocked wonder.
“John Bandicut,” she whispered. “I felt something astonishing. It was as though I felt...” She seemed unable to finish her sentence, but her eyes would not release him.
Bandicut felt a burning in his eyes. “Was it Charlie?”
Ik’s bony, bluish face appeared beside them both. “My friends—”
Antares sighed with a whistle. “Thank you, Ik. I am shaken. But unharmed. John Bandicut—?”
Letting his own breath out slowly, Bandicut said, “It was very strange.” He put a hand to his temple. “I have a new Charlie now.”
/// Charli. ///
He blinked, startled—but nodded to himself.
Antares looked at him with a wide gaze. “Then was that what I felt?”
“I don’t think so. Because my new...Charli...encountered something, someone.” He held out his hands. “Can you feel?”
Antares touched his wrist, then his forehead. “Uhhl, indeed yes! I sense your new quarx! But I do not think this is the one I met.”
“No.”
“Then—”
/Can you explain it, Charli?/
The quarx seemed uncertain.
/// It was like an echo.
An echo of the one I used to be. ///
Bandicut hesitated, then relayed the words to Antares.
Antares touched her temple, as though trying to find her own memory. “Strange, that is what I felt, also. As if Charlene had become imprinted on Deep, so that a part of her remained, even after death.”
Sitting back, Bandicut glanced up at Ik and Li-Jared and Jeaves. “Are you following any of this?”
Ik and Li-Jared looked uncertain. Jeaves answered by asking, “Were you able to make any contact with Deep?”
Antares stirred. “I could sense Deep, and I felt an empathy, and I think a desire to help. But more than that—no.”
Bandicut squinted in concentration as Charli spoke to him, then said, “Charli tells me she did make contact, through Charlene.”
/// I would prefer to say, Charlene-echo. ///
“Charlene-echo,” Bandicut corrected, his voice faltering a little. “Charlene is gone. But some part of her remains, and it can apparently function as a go-between.”
“And did Deep say anything meaningful to us, through Charlene-echo?” Li-Jared asked impatiently.
Bandicut focused inward again. “Yes,” he said. “Deep has changed course. He is now headed for the star we noticed earlier. That is *Brightburn*. That’s where we need to go.”
Chapter 13
Approaching the Star
JEAVES PROCEDURAL DIARY: 384.14.9.4
Another day or two in transit, following Deep, should bring us to the star we called *Brightburn*. During that time, the company must prepare for contact with the star. None of us really knows how to prepare for contact with a star, of course, though I have more information than the rest, having once experienced communication with a star. I know this: spacetime itself must be stressed for such a contact to work. For that reason, I hope Deep will be able to help us.
Another matter on the minds of the company is what they can expect from The Long View, should we confront another adversary device without Deep to defend us. They reasonably suspect that conversation alone may be insufficient, and we may desire to wield more persuasive power. I do regret the Shipworld mission designer’s decision to limit our fighting options. Not that we would choose to undertake combat; indeed, none of us is traine
d for it. Nonetheless, I sensed the company’s palpable dismay upon learning of our lack of weapons, even for self-defense. They were scarcely reassured by the protection of our n-space generators.
Clearly they are uncomfortable with the mission being controlled by the shipboard AI, which they don’t trust, and by Delilah and me, whom they trust little more. They feel undervalued—despite the explicit value we place on their experience in solving difficult, world-threatening problems. I have no doubt, as their knowledge grows, so will their ability to take control of the mission.
How can I persuade them of this? Even after my own travels up and down the timestream, and personal glimpses of some of the terrible events I showed them (I spoke of persuasive evidence, but did not mention that I glimpsed some of the events as an eyewitness)—even after all that, I barely feel that I have the necessary knowledge. For the sake of crew confidence, I have tried to act as if I have a clear grasp; but the truth is, I am far from understanding these matters in their entirety.
My relations with the crew concern me most of all. The transmission of my personality components to the waystation was not altogether error-free, and I worry that my personal relations capabilities may be incomplete. How have I been performing as de facto commander of the ship? Do I need to relearn how to work with humans and their friends?
If so, I had better learn quickly.
*
Bandicut, while trying to get to know Charli, was still shakily absorbing the revelation that there were now two quarx in existence. Maybe one was only an echo of the real Charlene, an imprint on Deep’s mind. But echo or imprint or whatever she was, she was still out there, still communicating and—he guessed—thinking. Was she still feeling? Could an echo feel? His robots seemed to feel, and who knew about Jeaves? If AIs could, why not an imprint of a quarx? Was this Charlene-echo still capable of grief, and hope, and caring? Was her soul still there? He brooded a long time on these questions.
The new quarx felt very much like Charlene in her personable nature and sharp intelligence, and different in other ways. She seemed at times timid, and yet almost aggressively curious, exploring memories and deeper matters. The way she’d launched herself out to encounter Deep, barely minutes after coming shyly into the world—how soon would she do something like that again? Afterward, she’d seemed concerned for the alarm she’d caused him. She spent a long time perusing his memories. He had a feeling something was happening back there in the library stacks of his mind, but she couldn’t tell him what it was. She was extremely interested in the subject of the galactic war survivors, though; maybe she was searching for clues.
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