by Gary Gibson
A pebble skidded out from under my foot. He turned and reached out, grabbing hold of my outstretched hand and squeezing it hard. I cried out, and the rock fell from my grasp.
‘You know,’ he said, maintaining his grip as I struggled to be free, ‘I’ve been wondering if you might try something.’
‘I didn’t do anything!’
‘See,’ he continued, as if I had said nothing, ‘when you’ve lived all alone in the world long enough, there’s no one to tell you if a bear or a wild dog is trying to sneak up on you from behind. But after a while you get this kind of . . . sixth sense, I suppose you’d call it. Or I guess you could say a heightened awareness, like you can smell trouble in the air. Ask any of the other Pathfinders, and they’ll all tell you the same.’
‘Let go of me,’ I hissed.
‘Do you really think you’ve got it in you to kill me?’
‘No. I wasn’t going to kill you. I just—’
‘What?’ He bent quickly and scooped the rock back up with his free hand. ‘Then what the hell were you going to do?’
Once again I tried to pull free, but to no avail. ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘Let me go.’
To my surprise, he did – and then, to my even greater shock, handed me the rock.
‘Try again,’ he said.
I stared at the rock clutched in my hand, then up at him. ‘I don’t understand . . .’
He tapped the side of his head. ‘Right here. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll knock me out. Maybe even worse. What are you waiting for?’
My hand trembled as it gripped the rock. I stared into his eyes, then let the rock slip from my grasp.
‘Fine,’ I said dully. ‘You’ve made your point.’
‘You’re no killer. You’re not even much of a spy, or whatever the hell you are. What did you think you were going to do, even if you could somehow get all the way to Site B on your own? Which, by the way, I seriously doubt you could do.’
‘I would . . . tell anyone I found there that you were attacked by the creatures stalking us.’
‘And you’re sure they’d believe you?’
I rubbed my sore wrist. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’
‘Did you forget about Rozalia?’
I stared at him.
‘She told me how she found you sneaking around those sheds back there and pawing over one of the artefacts. So after Elena talked to me, I went back to Rozalia and told her what Elena said about you and Borodin. If I don’t make it back, the first thing Rozalia’s going to do is find Blodel and spill the beans anyway. So, since we’re on the subject, how about you start telling me the truth now?’
I walked over to a tree – in my mind, I had begun calling them whiplash trees – and sat down with my back against it. ‘You’d never believe me,’ I said dully.
‘Well, how about you start with telling me what the big deal is about the Beachball?’
I remembered Rozalia had called the Hypersphere by that name. ‘Nearly ten years ago,’ I said, ‘my father was arrested and sent into exile, where he was forced to carry out research on an identical artefact.’
‘You’re saying the Soviets already got hold of a Stage-Builder artefact? How?’
‘Not the Soviets,’ I said, and began to explain.
After a while, we started to walk again, and I continued with my story. I came from an alternate where Tsarist Russia had come to dominate the globe. Then, precisely as had happened with the Authority, an abandoned but functioning transfer stage was discovered that led to a parallel universe – and a Stage-Builder outpost considerably more intact than any yet found by the Authority. A group of scientists – including my father, Josef Orlov – were set to work deciphering the recovered technology. It took them twenty years, but eventually they learned both how to program the transfer stages to seek out new alternates, and even how to build their own.
At first I could see Jerry didn’t believe me, and he peppered me with endless questions, testing my story for cracks. But after a while his disbelief shifted towards sombre respect.
‘So why arrest your father, after he did all that for them?’ he asked, as we made our way up a hill.
‘He was horrified when the Tsar used his discoveries to conquer other alternates, and even enslave their populations. Officially, those conquered alternates are known as the Republics. Along with some of his colleagues, Josef made contact with anti-Tsarist elements, but they were discovered and arrested.’ I shrugged. ‘It worked out well for the Tsar, because once in exile, he could put my father and the rest of us to work on projects he’d rather never saw the light of day.’
‘But why lock you up as well? Just because you’re his daughter?’
‘I know as much as my father does about how the stages function,’ I told him with no small pride.
‘So, to be clear – you know how to program a stage to find new alternates? Even build one?’
I nodded, and he came to a stop. ‘Katya . . . that’s the whole reason we’re out here, so we can figure out how to do just that! It’s the solution to everything.’ He stared past my shoulder, thinking. ‘So that artefact back there, the Beachball – where exactly does it come into all this?’
I glanced up, seeing creatures like fleshy boomerangs drifting on a thermal far overhead. ‘We call it the Hypersphere.’
‘Why not just “sphere”?’ he asked as we got underway again. The hill grew steeper as we worked our way upward.
‘It exists in many more than our three physical dimensions,’ I explained. ‘What we see as a sphere is in reality only one tiny aspect of the whole. But, like much else left behind by the Syllogikos, it was badly vandalized. We’ve been trying for years to restore it to full functionality, without success.’
‘While that one back there is undamaged, right?’
I nodded. ‘There’s every reason to think it can do everything the one we had never could.’
‘And what is that, exactly?’
I stopped to catch my breath. ‘Imagine,’ I said, ‘being able to locate any alternate with a greater than zero probability of existence, instantaneously, just by thinking about it. Imagine finding a parallel Earth where you are its supreme ruler, or where you could find a weapon powerful enough to destroy a universe.’ I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘Or a way to restore yourself to youth, and cure yourself of any imaginable ill.’
‘Is that what Borodin wants?’ asked Jerry. ‘To be young again?’
The sweat poured from me as we finally crested the hill. ‘No – but it’s what the Tsar wants. The Syllogikos record that they used the Hypersphere to travel between numerous alternates, including their own, based on their desires at the moment of operating it. One alternate they visited contained something they referred to as a “healing pool”.’
‘Which is?’
‘Some form of rejuvenation technology. They describe wading into this pool and emerging restored to youth and perfect health.’
He laughed uneasily. ‘That sounds ridiculous. The Tsar really believes this?’
‘In an infinite multiverse, almost anything might be possible, so long as it doesn’t contravene the local laws of physics. The Tsar is dying, Jerry. He has some disease of the nervous system that makes him very frail. His son, Prince Dmitri, wants him to abdicate.’
‘So why doesn’t he, if he’s so ill?’
‘Dmitri is a man given to violent passions. He is surrounded by stories of debauchery and murder, and Nicholas fears what would happen to the Empire were his son to take the throne.’
‘Doesn’t sound like there’s a lot of love in that family,’ said Jerry. ‘Say you did take the Hypersphere back home. What happens then?’
‘The Tsar ensures he remains on the throne for many more years, and as a reward my father and I and the other exiled scientists will be allowed to live out our lives in some remote and isolated corner of the Empire.’
‘Why doesn’t Borodin just come straight here, then? Why go to all this effort, if the Hypersphere
is all he wants?’
‘Because he first needs this alternate’s coordinates.’ I nodded at his hip pocket. ‘Which I believe you have in that notebook of yours.’
He blinked, his hand automatically reaching for his rear pocket.
‘Well,’ he said, loose scree tumbling from beneath his boots as we walked down the hill’s far slope. ‘Shit.’
‘Now that I’ve told you all this,’ I said, ‘tell me what you’re going to do.’
He stopped again and turned to face me. ‘Let’s say you’re on the up and up. Maybe there’s some other way we can sort this mess out.’
I regarded him warily. ‘How?’
‘You said this place where Borodin’s been keeping you all locked up is isolated, right?’
I nodded. ‘The Crag is the only inhabited structure on its alternate.’
‘How well defended is it?’
I frowned. ‘There’s nothing to defend against. As I said, the whole alternate is deserted. It’s essentially a post-apocalyptic, like this one.’
‘But there must be some kind of security there.’
‘Primarily to monitor the exiles. Apart from a network of cameras, there are perhaps half a dozen guards.’
‘Just six guards for the whole place?’
‘There are only a dozen exiles, and none of them is young. Some are extremely old. They don’t need much guarding, believe me.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then maybe there’s some way we could break your friends out of there.’
I stared at him, astonished by the suggestion. ‘How . . . why would you do that?’
‘You said the Hypersphere can take you anywhere, right?’ A grin spread slowly across his face. ‘Then maybe we could use it to transport us to the Crag and break them out. Like you said yourself, they’re not exactly expecting visitors, are they?’
I blinked in amazement. ‘It’s not as simple as you think. The Hypersphere first needs to undergo a complex process of calibration, then—’
‘But it is possible?’
‘Yes. I mean – theoretically. I’m just not sure . . .’
‘About what?’
I spread my hands. ‘I don’t have the resources to carry out the necessary calibration. I would need computers, power sources, a laboratory . . .’
‘Anything in that list we couldn’t scrounge up?’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘Perhaps not.’
‘Well, there you go. Way I see it, with all the information you’ve got in your head, you’re just as valuable to us as the Hypersphere is to your Tsar. You help us figure out how to find some alternate the Authority can relocate to, and we’ll help you in return.’
‘You would really do such a thing?’
‘Well, I would,’ he said. ‘And I’m pretty sure I could talk the other Pathfinders around. The Authority themselves might be another matter. But as problems go, I don’t think it’s necessarily insoluble.’
For the first time in a very long time, I felt something like hope. ‘But Borodin . . . ?’
‘Well, yeah, there’s him. But I’m sure we can find some way to deal with him.’
‘You won’t tell all this to Director Blodel?’
He laughed. ‘Not now you’ve told me all this, no. Look – the Authority haven’t been a democracy for a long time, not since that nuclear war of theirs. It’s their own damn fault they’re bound for hell in a hand-bucket. Blodel’s a rule-bound idiot who makes the guy who used to be in charge look like a saint by comparison. We had to fight tooth and nail to bring the Soviets in over his objections, even though we were desperate for the help.’ He shook his head. ‘If we went to him with everything you just told me, I wouldn’t be the least damn bit surprised if he locked us all the hell up and screw the consequences. No, we’ll keep him out of the picture . . . at least for now.’
I turned at the sound of a familiar distant shriek. Some kilometres back the way we had come, a flock of the boomerang-like creatures spiralled up into the pre-dawn sky.
‘I don’t know if I can keep going like this,’ I said, my voice flat.
‘We stay still, they’ll find us,’ said Jerry. ‘Simple as that.’
I nodded, and he waited for me to walk ahead of him. Despite his promises, he made a point of keeping me in sight at all times.
We climbed again, high enough that we could once more see the foothills that were our destination. The ground dipped, then rose again, becoming gradually steeper until we found ourselves confronted by a sheer rock wall ten metres high. A small waterfall gushed over its lip before joining a stream.
‘There’s got to be some way up there,’ said Jerry, standing back and staring around. He pointed west, towards where part of the cliff had crumbled, creating a steep slope. A tree had fallen down on its side, its trunk forming a bridge to the top of the cliff.
‘I see it,’ I said, nodding. I took the lead, splashing across the stream and working my way closer. On either side of the muddy slope was a dense mat of flat-edged vines that looked razor-sharp.
Jerry came abreast of me and nodded upwards. ‘Want to give it a shot?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s either that, or we spend a day trying to find another route. I don’t think we can afford to.’
He nodded. ‘Up it is.’
He went first, pulling himself up and onto the lowest part of the slippery-looking trunk, balancing carefully as he used its bare branches as handholds. I watched with trepidation as he worked his way higher. Then, positioning his feet with care, he reached down, extending a hand towards me.
‘I think it can take both of us,’ he said, moving his feet slightly. ‘It feels pretty stable.’
I kept my reservations to myself and slowly climbed high enough until I could take his hand. I was desperately aware of the blade-sharp vines waiting for us if we slipped.
‘Follow my lead,’ he said, breathing hard from his effort. ‘Do exactly as I do. Think carefully every time you move. Slow and steady, okay?’
He climbed the rest of the way with careful precision, testing each foothold and pausing before every move. I followed his lead as exactly as I could, placing my feet and hands as near as I could see to where he had put his own. At one point the trunk shifted beneath us, and I let out a terrified moan.
The trunk settled. I waited for my heart to stop thudding and continued, but even more slowly than before. I thought of the distant, impossible luxury of my bed back on the island.
We ascended carefully until we came to the torn-out roots of the tree. One by one, we negotiated our way around them, then continued on up a slope that felt satisfyingly solid beneath my feet. Soon we arrived at a small copse of growths with skinny, straight trunks and blue-brown leaves at their apex. We collapsed onto the grass beneath them, breathing hard.
‘I swear to God,’ said Jerry, panting hard, ‘when we get back home, I will never, ever say anything bad about Yuichi’s homemade booze, ever again.’
I was puffing just as much. ‘You Pathfinders,’ I managed to say. ‘You are all very strange people.’
He looked at me in utter astonishment, and began to laugh. I stared at him, then started to laugh too, even though at first I had no idea what might be funny.
I looked over at him once I managed to stop giggling. For a moment, I thought he might lean towards me, and I wondered if that was what I wanted.
He sucked at his lips, then looked around. ‘We’re well past the halfway mark by now.’
‘We should rest,’ I said. ‘We’ve been getting slower and slower, Jerry.’
He stood and shook his head. ‘No. We’ve got all of the rest of our lives to rest. We have to keep moving.’
I nodded wearily and let him help me up.
TWELVE
Later still, after the sun had passed the midway point in the sky:
‘That girl, Chloe,’ I asked. ‘Were you ever . . . involved with each other?’
He chuckled and shook his head. ‘You picked a hell of a time.’
&
nbsp; ‘Humour me,’ I said, as we trudged through an endless-seeming forest.
‘First you try to kill me, now you want to know about my love life?’
‘We could still die out here,’ I said. ‘We haven’t seen any evidence that anyone is looking for us. Even if those beasts don’t kill us, we’ll starve to death for lack of anything we can eat. And while you know some things about me, I know very little about you.’
He took so long to answer that I began to think he never would.
‘Sure,’ he said at last. ‘We were involved for a while.’
‘What happened?’
‘I . . .’ He sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’ We walked on a bit farther. ‘She was involved with another Pathfinder before me.’
‘Who? Yuichi? Randall? Or . . .’
He gave me a wry grin. ‘Me.’
‘I thought you said another Pathfinder?’
‘I said it was complicated. Thing is, I’m not the first Jerry Beche to be rescued by the Authority – I’m the second. The first one died.’
I stared at him.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘The multiverse, right? There’s more than one of everything, including people. Anyway, after he got killed on a mission, they went and got me from a timeline closely parallel to his own.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s the great thing about us Pathfinders – lose one, you can always get another.’
‘That’s . . . appalling. Are any of the other Pathfinders . . . replacements?’
‘A few. Anyway, the point is that Chloe had already been in a relationship with that other Jerry, so I guess it’s no surprise she got together with his replacement.’
‘But it didn’t last?’
‘Nope.’ He shook his head. ‘Turns out her and Jerry One were arguing a lot before he died.’ He grinned. ‘Guess in the end me and him were just a bit too similar.’
He came up abreast of me. ‘You know, at first everybody thought there was something going on between you and Borodin, the way you were always whispering together.’
I stared at him. ‘There was nothing going on, I assure you. At least, not in the romantic sense.’
‘Yeah, I get that now. But Rozalia and a couple of the others were just about convinced the pair of you were at it like rabbits.’