Are we now? asked Helkyria. Or is it something you’re doing for us?
That is what a keeper does.
Duhyle felt a sense of sadness…and yet of muted triumph.
The universe, the keeper went on, our universe—is at a pivot point—at two other times, the same struggle is being fought, but your battle is the one that will decide whether all continues.
What about you? demanded Duhyle. Where do you fit in? He could sense Helkyria’s irritation at his interruption, but the idea of an outside force or keeper or whatever dictating what they did bothered him.
I am the keeper. There have been other keepers. The last keeper fought the same battle that you must fight. There was a long pause. When you look at the ring in the heavens, you see a portion of those costs…as the Bridge is also a remnant of that battle and a cost…and promise.
Promise? asked Helkyria. How can you help us? Can you destroy the Hammers?
“I” am not truly where you are. Our event-points do not coincide. Yet there are possibilities. Another pause followed. Tell me exactly what you face and where.
The Aesyr of Midgard have revolted and are threatening to use a weapon that will, if used often, unravel the dark matter of the universe. They have a ship, from the past, fitted with this weapon…
Duhyle listened as Helkyria gave a summary of the situation, followed by a description of the Hammers and the threat they posed.
The keeper said nothing, her eyes focused totally on Helkyria until the scientist paused. There is only one Hammer. It can be made to appear at multiple points but can only force intersection sequentially, not simultaneously.
It can strike in the future, then? asked Helkyria.
The keeper shook her head. Not even the Bridge can do that. It can only reach any point with which it coexists and only at that point. There is no future, just as there is no past. There are only infinite sets of points of existence. Each coherent set of infinite points traveling through space can be said to be a universe…and not all points intersect naturally for all of that journey. Observation of those intersections is experienced by those with intelligence as time. All living organisms have some intelligence.
Duhyle thought he knew why Baeldura and Thora wanted to control the canal station, but wasn’t certain. The Hammer—or Hammers—can only strike at one…location…one event-point…before it can proceed to another?
In a general sense…yes.
So where is the Hammer, its physical locale? asked Helkyria.
There was another long pause before the keeper replied. Physically, it is located on the large warship to the west of the canal.
You said there were possibilities that you could help. How? pressed Helkyria.
What you call the great canal is a Bridge to anywhere equal to its length. Each of you can only depart it at the moment you left the event-point you inhabited and you can only leave it in an event-point congruent to your past/present event-point…
You’re saying that the canal can touch anything anywhere within two thousand kays and at any time? asked Duhyle.
Almost simultaneously, Helkyria inquired, You can let us depart somewhere near, but only at the same time as when we sealed the station?
That is essentially correct.
Duhyle knew that “essentially correct” translated into “grossly over-simplified.”
Is there any limit to those who can leave? asked Helkyria. Could all the troopers leave at once?
They could.
Do you have any weapons to support them?
None that would not make matters worse. Far worse, and far sooner.
Duhyle watched Helkyria, but his consort only nodded before asking, Can you provide a view of the inside of the warship?
Another long pause followed. We can see the outside, and there may be plans of the vessel, but I cannot transfer those to you. I can only describe…
Our event-points are not congruent, said Helkyria dryly.
No…
We will have to determine how to attack the ship, Helkyria said. Give us some time…or continuity of event-points…
As you wish…
The keeper vanished, as did the shadowy silver figure, but the light-shaded “ghost” machinery did not. Nor did an indirect and diffuse illumination that seemed to come from the stone itself. Duhyle discovered that he had a slight headache, possibly from straining to see what amounted to two sets of images occupying the same space. “You’re going to invade the control centers of the warship?”
“That’s where the Hammer is. Do you have a better idea?”
Duhyle didn’t. “What if she—or it—isn’t what she says?”
Helkyria smiled wryly. “Let’s see.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I understand what she said, or the implications, she can only communicate with us so long as the station is locked. Let’s see if we can unlock one of the windows.”
“You don’t think we can, do you?”
“Let’s say I have my doubts.” Helkyria walked toward the synchronizer, then stopped. “All the outside screens are frozen, with the last images on them.”
“How…” Duhyle swallowed. “When we used the synchronizer…did that put us outside of time?”
“I think the keeper would have claimed that we’re outside our event-point…or something to that effect,” said Helkyria dryly. “That’s a good indicator that we probably can’t open things.”
Duhyle realized that the synchronizer was still powered, but running off the stored system, not off the grid.
Helkyria bent over and touched the screen. “We’re locked out.”
“What if we depower?”
“It shouldn’t make any difference.”
Duhyle cut the power to the synchronizer.
Nothing changed, nor did the light from the stone diminish.
He walked over to where the window was and touched the stone. It remained immobile. He looked at Helkyria.
“I’m inclined to believe her,” said Helkyria. “It appears as though we don’t have much choice.”
“Ser…?” offered Symra. “Aren’t there any other…?”
“Options? Can you think of any with a hundred of us locked inside here?”
Symra looked away.
“I’ll need to work out how we’ll do this.” Helkyria gestured toward the nearest wall. “We’ll have to use one of the existing doors, and that only will allow three fully equipped troopers at once.” She turned to Symra. “We’ll need to talk over what you and Valakyr need.” Then she looked back to Duhyle. “We’ll need you, too.”
“I do have some biotherm,” he said with a slight grin.
“That will come in useful, more than I’d thought.”
Duhyle nodded. He’d have to work out detonators, but he could manage that…somehow.
49
8 Tenmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn
Maertyn didn’t even try to ask Maarlyna any questions until after he and she had each eaten a healthy portion of the still-warm cheese, potato, and lamb casserole that had been left on what served as a pantry table. Then they had walked back up to what had been their main-floor study, and Maertyn poured two goblets of a Zaendan red that he’d been saving for a special occasion that had never come. The Voharan carpet looked the same, and so did the ancient chairs from Norlaak…except Maertyn could see/sense the light-sheathed consoles that seemed to be everywhere and yet not there at all.
Only when Maarlyna had seated herself and taken several sips from the monogrammed crystal goblet did Maertyn finally ask, “Can you tell me what it is that you’re doing? What you were doing with those people I could barely make out. I could only sense and understand a little, and it didn’t make much sense to me.”
She frowned, then pursed her thin lips for a moment, setting the goblet on the side table. “I didn’t really understand until it happened. It’s something that…no one else can do. The ancients, the ones who built the Bridge, they thought there would alway
s be some people who could see…the universe…as it is, or maybe they thought that there were ways to train people…”
“Maybe they didn’t even think about the future.”
“They did fight to make sure that there was one…” Maarlyna picked up the goblet and took a small swallow, rather than a sip. “They set up the Bridge to seek keepers.”
“You say that there’s no time, or that time doesn’t exist, and that would mean that across all time there’s no one but you who can do this…whatever it is? That seems…strange…”
Maarlyna shook her head. “They have to live in a time—one of the event-points—contiguous to the Bridge…and no one else ever has…or will, not so far as the last keeper and the Bridge systems could determine.”
“How close—physically—do they have to be?”
She did not speak, and her now-silver eyes darkened for several moments, before she finally answered. “The Bridge systems can detect anyone with such abilities on the same continent, farther under some conditions.”
“You’re saying that in thousands of years…” Maertyn broke off.
“Hundreds of thousands…it could be millions of years.” Her eyes brightened, again almost to tears. “How could I say no? How many people would not come to be…to know love and joy?”
“…and fear and disappointment,” Maertyn added dryly.
“Maertyn…” Her voice was soft.
“I know that sounds cynical, but I’m feeling a little that way with all of this.” More than a little, but he wasn’t about to voice that. “I’d like to concentrate on a few things more immediate. We’re still trapped in here. What about us? And the Gaerda?”
“Oh…they’ve just left a group of soldiers in a portable hut of some sort. There’s more snow falling, and I almost feel sorry for them…” She shook her head. “I forgot. All this seems so natural, and it’s not. It’s like I know things that I didn’t know I knew until I do them. It’s very strange.”
“You can see or sense beyond the walls?”
“Farther than that. I don’t know how far. I haven’t tried, except a ways out into the ocean to find the warship. Not inside buildings or things, except inside the Bridge.”
“What warship?”
“The one threatening the Vanir. That’s not now.”
Maertyn took a solid swallow of the Zaendan. His wife was talking about warships he couldn’t see that existed in other times. “But you can’t use weapons…did I understand that correctly? So how will we deal with the Gaerda? What about things like power and food? You do need to eat, don’t you? You must, after all you just went through.”
“If I’m…awake.”
“Why wouldn’t you…The canal has some sort of life-suspension?”
“It’s more just being out of time…”
“I thought time didn’t exist,” he teased, trying not to sound forced.
“The keeper would say that it’s being separated from event-points so that continuity is stopped.”
“The keeper would say?” he asked with a grin he didn’t totally feel.
“I’m still two people…”
“In one body.”
“I was going to say that…” She shook her head again. “It’s not so much two people as me and another person’s skills and memories.”
“Who told you to run off before you knew what had happened to deal with some problem? You just dragged me…as if you weren’t quite you…”
“It wasn’t like that. I was the one who decided. I was afraid that I wouldn’t remember. I still didn’t understand time. That was because I needed to integrate…a lot of things…and I was worried I’d lose hold of…aspects of things, especially with the Vanir.”
“You’re simplifying for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes. We don’t have words for some of it. I have to think in the old keeper’s language…”
“You learned another language…like that?”
“I didn’t have much choice, dearest. It just happened. Does it bother you?”
“What about the…Vanir? Did you learn their language?”
“No. The Bridge structures do that.”
“Are they ancient, too? The Vanir?”
She shook her head. “We’re ancient to them. I haven’t told them. I think their leader—she’s something like a soldier-scientist—knows that.”
“Did you say something about not having weapons to help them?”
“I did.”
“So you don’t have any way to deal with the Gaerda?”
“Not without causing a disaster. The Bridge is a weapon. Even the keeper’s memories were not clear. What is clear is that to use it again as a weapon will destroy Earth.”
“Of course.” Maertyn nodded. He did have a feel for that, from all his studies. “It’s somehow outside of time. That means that its mass and energy are as well. To have an effect on matter, it would have to become real, and if it destroyed the ancient moon the first time…”
“There’s great horror around those memories.” Maarlyna’s face and eyes stiffened, almost as if she were retreating into some past distance. “Almost no one and nothing survived, except for the few in the Bridge.”
“That was a long time ago,” ventured Maertyn.
“It was.” A trace of a smile appeared. “Now I know I won’t forget.”
“Forget what?”
“The others. The ones I haven’t dealt with yet. They’re in their own event-point, and I don’t have to hurry. Right here is the only place where I can’t wait if something has to be done.”
“Does something have to be done here?” Maertyn frowned.
“In a little while, after we talk some more.” She lifted the goblet again.
For several moments, the chamber was silent.
“I still don’t understand. Why you? How?”
“The keeper sensed me. There’s a field…something…around…me…or there was after the operations…the procedures. You were drawn to the Bridge…to the canal…there are images of what was, is, and will be…they reverberate through time and through minds…”
Maertyn thought back. He really hadn’t even considered the canal research project before…not until Maarlyna was recovering and it had been clear that she would recover. It had been one of a number of proposals stacked up in his console. But he still couldn’t say why he’d picked it. “How can the Bridge…the keeper…do that?”
“It can’t make anyone do anything, but it can amplify images…feelings…and sometimes people respond. Most times they don’t.”
“And I responded, all because of you?” Maertyn asked.
“Yes.” She stood, took several steps, until she stood before his chair, and held out her hands.
He took them and rose, as her arms went around him, and her lips touched his.
50
34 Quad 2471 R.E.
The light and darkness split…or shivered…and flaked away, leaving Eltyn, Faelyna, and Rhyana standing in the same chamber. This time the equipment consoles had diminished in size and were sheathed in silvered-gold light. Before them stood a tall woman in a scarlet singlesuit. Her hair was silver-gold. Behind her stood an even taller figure so shadowed in silver that Eltyn could not make out his face—if he were indeed even a man.
Who are you? Eltyn had spoken the words aloud, but they came out as if pulsed on the private net.
She said something, but the words made no sense…not at first, but after a moment, he could hear them, as if they had been pulsed to him. I am the keeper of the Bridge…what you call the canal.
Why couldn’t we communicate before? asked Faelyna.
I was not prepared. What disaster threatens you?
How were they supposed to answer that? Eltyn glanced to Faelyna, who did not show any expression. Finally, he offered, The Ruche government has been overthrown, and we took refuge in the canal station where we were doing research. The usurpers tried to destroy the station with a nickel-iron meteorite.
E
ltyn looked to Faelyna.
She added, The fall of Hururia and the Ruche to barbarism…and the sand and heat, it would appear. After a moment, she went on. Who are you, and why are you responding to our attempts to gain control of the functions of the canal?
I am the keeper of the Bridge…the canal.
Why have you never appeared before?
I am not in what…you would call…your time.
What we would call time? Is not time…time? asked Eltyn.
“Time” does not exist. Intelligences perceive the continuity of interactions within their event-points as time…
Eltyn didn’t know what to say.
We experience time, Faelyna replied, and there is a temporal component to the controls of the doors and windows of the station.
The controls that govern the Bridge are in levels, linked to degrees of event-point continuity.
Time by any other name, Faelyna insisted, following her words with an equation.
In response came an equation, and then another.
Eltyn and Faelyna exchanged glances. He didn’t understand the second equation, but it was clear that Faelyna did.
What’s happened outside the canal? interjected Rhyana.
An object from beyond the atmosphere struck the western end of the Bridge. The energy was transferred to the water and the seafloor. Nothing living remains within…a kay(?) of this terminus of the Bridge.
Can you help us? Besides keeping us alive inside the canal? asked Faelyna.
The woman in scarlet was silent for a time, and she looked back at the shadowy silver figure. Then she seemed to sigh. Tell me more.
The riffies took over and The Twenty overthrew The Fifty… began Rhyana.
The world warming threatens the Ruche… Eltyn stopped.
The keeper laughed softly. One at a time, please…
51
9 Tenmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn
Maertyn and Maarlyna sat the Laarnian chairs in the chamber he had once come to think of as the study. Before she’d begun to explain what she had learned from the second group she’d “visited,” he’d turned his chair so that it faced hers more directly. That way, he could almost ignore the light-sheathed ghost consoles that haunted the room…except that when he looked at Maarlyna and listened, the silver-gilded light extended itself around her, emphasizing her, like some ancient monarch, and her eyes and hair held a strange luminescence. Or was that just the interpretation of his own senses? Would he ever know?
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