Something seared through my shoulder. I staggered undertime, holding to my concentration like a precious jewel until I fell on breakout right in front of Nerlis, the nurse in the infirmary.
“Sorry . . .” I think I said.
When I woke up again, I was lying on a flat table with Dr. Dyrell using a long instrument on my chest. The fire redoubled and dropped around me like a prickly red haze.
How long I drifted there, I don’t know, except that I was in a room where people seemed to come and go, and look at me, and come and go. Wryan came at least once. So, I think, did Odin Thor. Even in my haze Wryan stood out like a silver star.
When I woke up for real, there were, again, all sorts of tubes attached to me, and a large flexible pad across my left shoulder and chest. Nerlis arrived within instants.
“Well . . . are you really awake?”
I nodded.
She shook her head slowly, not quite fondly, but not totally disapprovingly. “You get into more trouble . . .”
I just looked at the mass of tubes connected to me.
She followed my eyes. “Those stay there until we’re sure you’re not starving again.”
“When . . . can . . . I . . . eat?” My voice felt rusty, and my throat was dry.
She laughed. “That’s a good sign. Let’s try liquids, first. There’s nothing wrong with your digestive system.”
I glanced to the window as she checked me, before bustling out for the liquids she had promised. Outside were high soft white clouds and a bright green-blue sky, almost springlike.
Wryan arrived shortly, dropping from nowhere into the infirmary room. She glanced over the tubing. “I think I’ve seen you like this before.”
“Doctor . . .” acknowledged Nerlis, returning with a beaker. She barely hesitated before bringing it up to my lips.
The first sip was hard, so dry were my lips and mouth. The second was easier. The third hit my stomach like a centreslot ball to the groin. I’d forgotten the impact of Sustain on an empty stomach, but my body brought back the recollection instantly.
Nerlis wiped the sweat off my forehead, then nodded. “He’s all yours, Doctor Relorn. I’ll be back in a while to disconnect the tubes.”
Wryan pulled the chair closer to the bed. “Sammis . . . who told you that you were invulnerable?”
I didn’t want to answer that one.
“Walking into Llordian . . .” she didn’t finish her statement.
“All right . . . was stupid.” I took another sip of Sustain with a shaking hand. “Should I have dived in and recorded and disappeared?”
“Why not?” Wryan’s voice was calm.
“How about the witches of Eastron?”
“It’s a different time and a different place.” She looked at me critically. “You should be dead, you know?”
I didn’t ask why, not wanting to move much.
“Your wounds weren’t survivable, according to Dr. Dyrell.” She stood up and pointed a finger at me. “But you’re still not invulnerable.”
I yawned. All of a sudden, I felt tired.
“I’ll talk to you later.”
As I recovered over the next ten-day, I discovered that the remaining farmers had nearly levelled Llordian, but not before the last remnant of the townies had attacked and levelled a dozen more farms—empty be-cause the farmers had retreated to one they had made into a stronghold.
The townies attacked, and three quarters of them were wiped out—as were nearly half the farmers and most of the stored crops and seed grain.
At Felshtar, nearly the same thing had happened, because the farmers, hearing what had happened at Llordian, waited until the next townie attack. Then they burned the entire town, while the townies were out burning every farmhouse they could reach.
Jerlyk made some tapes of the destruction.
Algern, another town near Esterly, complained about the ConFed levies. Odin Thor showed them the tapes, then sent a handful of townies and farmers by steamer to Llordian. They didn’t even ask for an election. They did ask, after talking with Wryan, for a committee of townies and farmers, under ConFed supervision, to verify townie food needs and farmer supplies.
By the time I was well enough to leave the infirmary, I had figured out what had to be done, if we were to avoid self-destruction and get back on the road to dealing with the Frost Giants.
Wryan didn’t encourage me or oppose me. What she said was, “If you think so, go ahead and persuade everyone.”
I didn’t have to persuade everyone, just Odin Thor.
XLVII
THE SUNSHINE THAT had promised an early spring vanished as we walked into the colonel-general’s office. My shoulder still twinged when I stretched too far, but the redness of the scars had already begun to fade.
Odin Thor stood behind his desk and peered at me, and I still didn’t know whether Wryan was really behind me or not. At least, she’d agreed to come.
“The divers can’t stay here any longer.”
“Why not, Trooper Sammis?”
“First, because it makes your troopers uneasy. Second, because they need to adjust to the real world. And third, because this base isn’t suited to rebuilding the future.” My voice almost squeaked, but I got it all out.
Wryan said nothing, just stood there with a faint smile on her face.
Odin Thor smiled even more broadly. “My troopers will do what I say.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Oh . . .?”
“Not if I tell them your big secret—that you’re a diver yourself.”
For once, the colonel-general looked surprised. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Then he just sat there.
“You, madame.” he finally said, “Do you believe such an absurdity?”
“Colonel,” she said with a wry twist to her lips, “what I believe is not the issue. Is it?”
Odin Thor glanced toward the closed door, then looked at me. “What could you possibly gain by making such a statement?”
“Look,” I said, hoping the words came out the way I had rehearsed them. “What happened at Llordian and Felshtar showed that right now people only respect force. They also try to destroy what they don’t want to understand. I’m a diver. I’m not a trooper, and I never will be again.”
Odin Thor’s hairy eyebrows furrowed.
“Do you really think you could keep me from destroying most of your forces—if I had to?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Not unless you forced him,” added Wryan.
Odin Thor stepped back. “Let’s start this over.” He resumed the false jollity. “Why don’t you just explain this whole wonderful scheme of yours?”
“It’s not wonderful. It’s designed for survival.” I cleared my throat. “It’s simple when you think about it. From the divers’ viewpoint, they have to sleep, and get rest. If the ConFeds are three buildings away, some of the divers are always vulnerable. Plus, several of them have had rather unpleasant prior experiences with ConFeds.
“Second, the divers are still living in the past. They still look at what they’re doing as a research project. They need to become more self-reliant, and building their own camp will require that. In addition, the ConFeds are already beginning to resent having to support the divers. If the divers support themselves, then they’re not a drain on the ConFeds. And the ConFeds are going to need every man possible to maintain some sort of order in the next year or so.” I rubbed my shoulder, recalling Llordian.
“Now . . . you asked about you. If you are known to be a diver, and divers can neutralise people at will, no one is likely to challenge you. But . . . you can’t make that known until the divers, who, presumably, would be viewed as your power base, are out of easy physical reach of the ConFeds.”
Odin Thor paced back toward me. A good two heads taller than me, he radiated physical power. “Why couldn’t I just remove you?”
“Because you can’t survive over the long term without divers,” interjected Wryan.
“Look,” I almost shouted. “Your damned steamers are your lifelines. They’re more than half ceramic, and there’s not a ceramics facility left on the planet. Where are the etheline refineries? The Enemy—the Frost Giants—whatever they are, levelled all the factories and took out the solar satellite links. We can reach them. You can’t. Maybe in time we could repair them. You can’t. How long will those standby generators last?”
Odin Thor wasn’t stupid. “All of that may be true, but what good are your divers? There’s not an engineer among them, you two excepted.”
I swallowed. “We can bring small things back from other planetary systems. Weapons, certainly tools, some limited metals. Perhaps technology.”
Odin Thor raised his eyebrows.
“We’ve already proved to be able to provide instant communications.”
He looked out the window. “You’re telling me I have no choice.”
“Not exactly,” added Wryan. “Sammis is telling you that over the long term you have no choice.”
“Madame, I am not that short-sighted. I have no choice. Will you keep your bargain?”
“We have to,” I added. “For the same reason. We have to be viewed as helpful. Otherwise, any time a diver appears, we’ll be back in the old witches of Eastron days, having to hide and run.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
“If I bring Weldin copper wire, iron plates or scavenge materials from ruins in Eastron, he can rebuild a generator for power generation. I can’t build one.”
Odin Thor said nothing, looked out at the clouds.
Wryan nodded faintly.
“All right. What comes first?”
I’d thought about that. First, the divers brought raw materials and goodies for the ConFeds. Then, they decided they wanted their own village, not an armed camp, with some strong hints from Odin Thor that he really couldn’t guarantee day-in, day-out security unless the divers were in a less accessible location.
Odin Thor would let his men—gradually—bring in women. Only willing ones, and the divers could police that. With the women would come children. That would take care of some resentment against there being female divers and no female ConFeds.
“Sit down, why don’t you?” I suggested.
Wryan smiled faintly from behind Odin Thor as she pulled up a chair. Odin Thor turned and retreated behind his desk.
I sat in the chair right before him. It would be a long morning.
XLVIII
NONE OF THE divers really liked the whole plan. Mellorie liked getting away from the ConFeds, but protested the idea that she would have to help build the new divers’ village, with her own hands yet. Arlean liked leaving the ConFeds and the walls, but disliked the isolated location on the other side of Mount Persnol, and hated the idea of leaving the library where it was. But she didn’t want to hand-carry it, along with all the equipment, to the village.
Gerloc protested having to be a porter, perhaps because he didn’t want to admit he was relatively fragile as a diver. Jerlyk didn’t like having to set up defences for the new village—minor as they were—when the apparent protection of old Camp Persnol had been so great. Amenda said nothing, but looked relieved and sad simultaneously.
Deric protested the loudest.
“. . . most absurd . . . idiotic idea . . . throwing away a generation of research . . . going back to nature . . . mind over matter doesn’t work without technology . . .”
By the time he had repeated himself three times, even Gerloc and Arlean were looking away.
Then there was me. I protested, too, about the self-centredness of everyone else, one afternoon as we stood in the far hills comparing onsite progress with the plans Deric had reluctantly developed. “Why do we have to drag everything out of everyone? Why can’t they just understand? They’re all hanging onto a time that’s dead.”
“Are you sure you don’t see this new community as an easy way to bury the past and avoid facing unpleasant memories?” asked Wryan, turning toward me so that she didn’t squint into the setting sun. Though it was late in the afternoon and the sun was about to drop behind Mount Persnol, the spring air was still warm.
“Of course not.”
Wryan looked at me.
I shrugged. “A little, maybe.”
“You realise we need more divers.” Wryan continued as if she had not mentioned unpleasant memories.
“Why do we need more divers?” I kicked a small limb away from the stone foundation.
She gestured around the foundation stones, mortar troughs, and stacked beams that were eventually supposed to be a divers’ cottage. A rutted muddy track in front of the foundations showed on the neatly drafted plans as a stone-paved roadway.
“Not enough people,” I ventured.
“You just might show signs of brilliance, Sammis.”
From her tone, I gathered I had missed more than I had grasped. So I tried again. “If Odin Thor is going to succeed, he needs more than we can get . . .”
That wasn’t it. Wryan just kept looking from the plans and to the foundations.
“If Odin Thor doesn’t succeed . . .” That wasn’t it either. Finally, I rubbed my shoulder—still aching at the end of long days—and thought. “Oh . . . if he does succeed . . .”
Wryan nodded. “Correct. Can you take some time tomorrow morning to get this back on track?” She pointed to the plans. “Then you can start searching in the afternoon. Work with the crews in the morning, and arch in the afternoon. We can’t exactly forget that the Frost Giants re still out there, and we don’t have enough divers if they return.”
“Damned recipe for exhaustion . . .”
“You’re brilliantly correct about that as well.” She rolled up the plans. “These aren’t getting built the way they should. I’ll follow up on your arches in the morning, and work with the crews in the afternoon.”
That was what happened. The building part was the easiest, actually less energy-consuming than diving, and gave me a few new muscles, lots of aches and blisters, and more than a few headaches.
“Why do we have to use so much stone . . . ?”
“. . . not enough power tools. . . .”
“. . . who made you Verlyt . . .”
“. . . liked the old quarters better . . .”
Searching for new divers was almost a relief after those mornings. I didn’t have to actually make the contacts—Wryan and Amenda handled that. In practice, it turned out to be simple . . . and time-consuming.
I could see the time energy controls through the undertime. That was the easy part. After that, I had to find out exactly who possessed the talent, which wasn’t exactly easy when most of them didn’t know they had it, didn’t want to know, or tried to suppress it.
Then Wryan and Amenda had to decide how to approach the diver, or his or her parents or both.
“Let the parents come here, if they want.” That had been Jerlyk’s solution.
Not a bad idea, but—like so many good ideas—a little hard to sell. As a compromise, we ended up building two villages, separated by a fairly imposing ridge, and connected by a single narrow road. Originally, one location had been an Imperial forest research station and the other a Seco recreation centre. Both were in poor shape.
One village, initially the Seco recreation centre and somewhat larger, was for non-divers who wanted to stay with us, for young divers and their families, and for any relations of divers. The other was for divers alone. I hoped the distinctions would blur over time.
Needless to say, the mixed diver/non-diver village got underway much more quickly, once we actually transported the non-divers on site. It was nearly a day from the old camp by steamer, up through so many switchbacks on a narrow road that arrival anywhere would have been a relief.
One way or another, we struggled through the spring and early summer, finally finishing three good-sized cottages in the divers’ village, with sever
al others nearing completion. A small water-driven generator supplied some power, intermittently, although Wryan insisted on complete wiring.
The garden idea went better than the cottages, probably because by the end of spring, everyone was sick of flourcakes, dried chysts, and all the staples. Amenda spent almost every free instant in the sunlight, seemingly happy for the first time since I had arrived.
Once the first cottages were completed, most of us moved, except for Deric, who, surprisingly, had taken charge of quietly teaching Odin Thor how to be a diver.
By midsummer, we had located an additional two dozen divers, mostly with families. All but a handful lived in the mixed village.
Also by midsummer, Odin Thor was demanding the metals, goods, weapons, and technology I had promised.
XLIX
ONE THING LEADS to another, and pretty soon everything gets complicated. After the complications arrive, then anyone can screw it up. The idea I had proposed to Odin Thor had seemed simple—use time-diving to skim the surplus off other high-tech cultures in order to help rebuild Query and to figure out how to deal with the Frost Giants.
Explaining doesn’t explain anything.
The day after I could no longer ignore Odin Thor’s demands, I fitted myself out with what I considered a diving uniform—tight-fitting black exercise trousers and tunic, with a light pair of black hiking boots, and an old thermal windbreaker from the bunkers under the old fort. I wore an equipment belt, the kind with concealed pouches and pockets, as well as the obvious gear, such as a small-calibre pistol, a knife, and some rope. The windbreaker was also black and long enough to cover the belt, knife, pistol and all. On top of it all I carried a small backpack, empty except for several days’ dried foods, mostly fruits with some jerky.
Then there was the thin notebook, based on all the notes from Wryan and the other timedivers, which laid out a sort of map of the nearer stellar systems. My idea was simple enough, just to skim through the backtime to see if any cultures had developed ideas or items we could use—and carry. That was the big problem. Unless a timediver could lift an item, he or she couldn’t bring it back. Some divers were barely strong enough to carry themselves, let alone additional loads.
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