Chen had her own disruptor pistol out, set to a low-power stun setting, capable of knocking a human out for up to ten minutes. She felt her heart racing in her chest, her anxiety level jumping up a few notches. “Here,” she called, stopping in her tracks to examine the readings on her Vei’nl. “Life signs are coming from behind this door. Ready when you are…”
Machiko took a deep breath, nodding. She wrapped her fingers around both door handles and pulled, then stepped into the dark room on the other side. It was unnaturally dark, tinted mostly by blue emergency lamps that had powered on to take the place of the regular light fixtures. Everything was in shadow, but thanks to the constant lightning flashes outside the windows, nothing around them was still. The darkness flickered and moved, making inanimate objects seem like living, twitching things – more than a few times Machiko jumped as she thought she saw movement out the corner of her eye. So far though, it was turning out to be nothing more than lightning-fed shadow patterns. No ambush, no enemy greeting party.
“Where are they?” Chen whispered, her eyes darting this way and that, expecting an attack at any moment.
Suddenly, a familiar-sounding voice echoed through the room from somewhere ahead, somebody shouting from the shadows: “Over here! It’s okay, I’m a friend!”
Machiko frowned. Was that… Lora’s voice? It couldn’t be, could it? She started toward the sound, beneath some huge machine, gesturing for Chen to follow. When they were almost directly beneath it, a woman dressed in black, chitin-like armour stepped out of the shadows.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” she was saying. Impossibly, it was Lorelei Chen, but older - in her mid-forties, maybe. Her face was strained with exhaustion, and her suit was burned from numerous weapon impacts. She looked like she’d been beaten up, and not for the first time. A small equipment pack was holstered over her back. She appeared to be unarmed, and her hands were spread wide in a welcoming gesture. “I’ve been waiting here for some time now,” she was saying, “but I knew you’d get here eventually, because you…” She looked at the younger Chen. “… are me… some years in the past, of course. I did a pretty good job of disabling those tachyons, don’t you think?”
Machiko couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “My God!” she blurted. “L…Lora?”
Chen straightened and cried out, an emotional mewing sound which was a mixture of disbelief, shock and release of years of built-up tension. For a long moment she just stood there, mouth agape, unable to talk. Then she blinked away sweat, and inhaled sharply. She felt nauseous. “My future self,” she said. “I never thought I’d see you again! I thought you were dead…”
Older Chen stepped forward. Lightning flashed, giving them a clearer look at her facial features. It was at that moment that Lora realised this future self was younger than the one she’d encountered ten years ago, perhaps by a few years.
“Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever encountered myself in the past,” the older woman said. “That stuff with our future self which happened ten years ago from your perspective, still hasn’t actually happened to me yet. The encounter with Damarus at Laputa. The encounter where I… where we die.”
Machiko frowned. This was very confusing. “I’m sorry. You died at Laputa?”
The younger Chen looked at her. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that, Machiko. My future self at the time… committed suicide, we think. A self-inflicted projectile gunshot wound to the head.”
“We think? Who else knew about this?”
“Paramo. I was going to tell you, at some point. I really was.”
“You told me she disappeared. Committed suicide?” Machiko couldn’t believe it. Her mind whirled. She’d heard the story of Lora encountering her future self at Laputa many times before, but this was a new twist. Now, actually seeing a future version of Lora, for real, was a very surreal experience indeed. She shook her head, unable to comprehend it all. “Okay, so you’re Lora… five years from now? Six?”
Older Chen smiled. “Seven.” Then a distant, saddened look came over her features. “It’s so good to see you again, Machiko. I miss you so much.”
Machiko felt frozen to the spot.
“So you’re… I’m… a time traveller in the future?” Chen asked. “I still don’t understand that. Why are you here?”
“Time traveller?” Older Chen chuckled at the suggestion. “I remember thinking the same thing. Of sorts, I suppose I am, but that description makes it all sound so… so easy, romantic, straightforward. So… intentional. Nothing about the past seven years has been easy, Lora.”
“Why are you here?” Machiko repeated, in a more demanding tone. “And how?”
Older Chen released a strained sigh. “There is no easy answer to that question, Machiko. I came here to let you know, Lora… that death is never the end. Sometimes it is the only way forward. I know how much pain you suffer at the thought of your own death, at the thought of shooting yourself in the mouth on that day. You feel an emptiness inside you that will not heal. But try not to despair. It is difficult to explain, but you must not think that the encounter at Laputa, where we die, is the end of the road for you, because it’s not. It’s really not. Lorelei, you are the stone that splits the stream of time in two, not Cristian Stefánsson. The story doesn’t end on that day. Do not lose sight of the faith inside of you.”
“I don’t understand,” Younger Chen said. “How is my death not the end?”
“Was it the end for Cris?” Older Chen retorted. “You will understand, and soon. In a week from now, Lord Damarus and the Inquisition of the Empyreal Sun will invade the Sol System, and you will be among those who confront him aboard the Retribution. There, he will meet his fate, and so will we. At the same time, you will be forced to use this… ” She pulled a small object from her equipment pack. “…to travel through time. It will be the only way out.”
Machiko sucked in air. “What is that thing?”
“It is the Xeilig Ark,” Older Chen told her. “You will find it aboard the Retribution.”
“Are you serious?” Machiko exclaimed. “That thing is tiny! How can something so small be the Xeilig Ark…”
“The device has assumed many different physical configurations in all the years it has been in my possession,” Older Chen said. “Remember that it is composed entirely of Lambda particles. It will not look this way when you find it.”
“None of this makes any sense,” Younger Chen complained. “You’re saying that everybody meets their fate soon, Damarus… me… and that I will travel through time. Seven years from now I come here to tell myself these things, and then in another three years I’m at Laputa, shooting myself in the mouth? And that’s not the end?”
Older Chen nodded. “I know how confusing it sounds, Lora. Believe me, I felt exactly the same way when I was in your shoes. But it will become clear, aboard the Retribution. At least, the path to clarity will present itself. I don’t have all the answers because, hey, I’m still on the road to those final events myself, and there are still things that even I don’t fully understand yet. But I know that everything will come to a head aboard that Empyreal Sun mothership, one week from now. You will see something there that will explain this, something… beyond words. It is a fixed point in the space-time continuum that cannot be changed or altered without damaging reality. Trust me, Lora. Everything will make sense.”
Younger Chen grimaced, her eyes filled with tears. Intense anxiety thundered through her system. “Okay,” she managed finally.
Machiko wiped sweat from her face. “You said that you missed me. Does that mean I’m going to die?”
Older Chen averted her gaze. “I would not like to tell you, either way, Machiko. I miss you because seven years of travelling through time has been a very solitary and lonely experience for me. I haven’t seen you, and I will probably never see you again.”
A tear ran down Machiko’s face. She stepped forward and embraced Older Chen without warning, squeezing he
r tightly. “That’s so sad,” she muttered. The hug she got in return was desperate, filled with tension, yet firm and loving. Older Chen stepped back, struggling to compose herself.
“I have to go now,” she said. “There are things I need to do.”
“What things?” Young Chen asked. “Where are you going?”
Older Chen shook her head. “You’ll see. That journey still lies ahead of you, Lora. Just remember my words. You are the stone that splits the stream of time in two.”
“Your words raise more questions than they answer.”
Older Chen smiled, then raised the Xeilig Ark to her lips. She whispered softly to it, then closed her eyes. She caught her breath, and exhaled, then seemed to pass out of their vision like a sunny wind blowing to another sky. Her body shimmered, and she disappeared.
Chen and Machiko stood in the same spot for over an hour, trying to fathom the depth of this encounter. It was unfathomable.
Chen’s first feeling was one of boundless grief. For herself, for the universe. What was going to happen aboard the Retribution? It felt like she were tumbling down a pit, deep into the unknown. It was a familiar sensation, one she had felt ten years earlier after her last experience with her future self. Inexorably, it felt like a part of her own growing. Is this what coming of age was, then? Watching future selves come and go, grow old and die? Gaining a new measure of strength or maturity from their powerfully confusing passages?
A great weight of hopelessness settled upon her, just as a flicker of lightning lit the air around them. Then it was gone, and they were left in shadow once more. For several more minutes they sat there like that, in silence, feeling it was the end of everything, that all the lights in the universe had flickered out. Sitting there, while the entire galaxy fell into war.
A chill came over Chen, disturbing the nothingness into which her consciousness had lapsed. She shivered, looked around. The world seemed more impenetrable and confusing than ever.
ACT SIX: THE STREAM OF TIME
25
THE SHADOWLANDS
“Here we are,” said Ammold Paramo, cutting the engines. “This is where we will find her.” With a gentle sigh, the underjets faded out; deprived of its antigravitic air cushion, the bioship Vertumnus settled down upon the twisted rocks of the Monsula Plateau, deep in the Shadowlands. The weather was fantastically clear, with visibility of almost a thousand yards beneath the maroon sky. There was no need of radar to show the cliffs ahead; the naked eye was more than good enough.
Cristian Stefánsson stared at the sheer wall of rock beyond the vessel’s viewport. “So this witch… this woman… is a former lover of yours?”
“Yes.” Paramo’s face remained straight, his eyes fixed ahead. “Princess Esme was the only woman I ever loved. It is not something I often talk about with anyone. It was the saddest day of my life when Lord Damarus outcast her to this place.” He shook his head. “But much time has passed since then. Her decades of banishment to this desert prison have poisoned her mind. She is not the person she once was.”
Cris nodded. “Do you really think she can help us?”
Paramo straightened, and pursed his lips as he studied Cris’ face. “I am sure of it. Nothing is beyond Esme’s ability to see. You know, there was a time when she responded to the questions of citizens, foreigners, kings, and philosophers on issues of political impact, war, duty, crime, laws - even personal issues. She was first in line to the throne of Laputa and regarded as a very wise and benevolent woman for the insights she afforded - but nobody really knew that she had the Second Sight… this ‘extrasensory perception’ which gave her an involuntary ability of seeing the future or distant events. That fact was kept a secret from most. Before Damarus outcast her, she was well loved by the people of this world. The Holy Church, however, upon discovering the truth, saw her natural abilities as a threat to their dominion, and she was brandished a ‘witch’. A most undeserved reputation, indeed.”
They left the ship and made their way up the rock face toward the oval-shaped opening of the cavern. Cris nodded at Paramo to signal his readiness, and they moved through the opening silently, following the rocky tunnel as it bored its way some distance into the mountain. Soon enough, the tunnel opened into a large chamber filled with milky white, thin ropes.
“What happens now?” Cris asked. He touched one of the white cables gently and it quivered slightly.
Paramo hesitated. “Esme!” he shouted. “It is Ammold! I have returned!” His voice echoed through the huge chamber.
A reply greeted him: “Proceed. But I can no longer hold back the Guardian, Ammold. My powers have grown weak.”
Paramo swallowed dryly, and grabbed one of the strongest-looking cables and climbed onto the web, looking back at Cris. “Now, we make our way to the centre of the web,” he said, “and hope that the Guardian doesn’t kill us before we get there.”
“What exactly is this ‘guardian’?” Cris asked, grabbing one of the cables and following Paramo across the web. He felt his weight sinking on the thin line, and sweat beaded on his forehead. There was no visible floor below; if the thin strands of webbing snapped or broke, he would undoubtedly plummet an untold distance to his death.
“A crystalline spider,” Paramo said, “imbued with some kind of magical properties by Lord Damarus himself. There have been many attempts over the years to slay the beast, to break Damarus’ spell… but none have been successful.”
The sound of their whispered voices carried through the chamber, and several of the milky cables above them suddenly twitched. Sure enough, the huge spider was emerging from its funnel-like hole at the top of the web, heading toward them, its eight legs carrying it across the web with impossible speed.
Cris spotted it first. “Holy Christ!” he yelled, almost losing his balance. “It’s there! Look!”
Paramo gritted his teeth, feeling his heart skip a beat. “Come on,” he insisted. “We must hurry!”
The cocoon at the centre of the web was still agonisingly far away. Cris started to panic, pulling harshly on the cables, pushing the muscles in his arms and legs as hard as he could force them. The spider grew more motivated at this, more excited, increasing in speed as it clambered its way toward them, lusting for a fresh meal.
It was like a nightmare. No matter how hard they tried, they were unable to pick up speed across the milky, slightly slippery webbing. At the rate the spider was gaining, Paramo knew they wouldn’t make it to the centre of the web in time. “Esme!” he roared. “Call off the Guardian! I beg of you! Please!”
The voice called, “I have no more power over it than you do, Ammold.”
Paramo roared, looking up at the beast. It was so close now. He reached out a hand desperately to grab another cable, attempting to put more space between him and the impossible predator, but he miscalculated, losing his footing. He fell, screaming, throwing out his arms, catching one of the cables just in time, perilously hanging by one hand.
Cris jerked forward. Without any regard to his own personal safety he reached for Paramo, grabbing his outstretched hand and pulling him to a more elevated position. As Paramo righted himself, he screamed again.
“Cristian!”
Cris looked up. Less than a metre away from his face, the mouth of the titanic spider was agape, its fangs dripping as it prepared to strike at him.
“No!” he shouted. “Stop! Get back!” He closed his eyes tight, preparing for the end.
But the end never came. After a moment, he realised he was still breathing. The pain of huge fangs tearing into his abdomen never happened. He blinked his eyes open, confused, and saw that the spider had retreated some distance, a dozen or so metres at least, and now sat motionless in the web, watching them.
Paramo exhaled heavily. “I can’t believe it,” he breathed. “Cris… it listened to you!”
Cris felt numb, and lost for words. “What? What are you talking about?”
“It listened to you!” Paramo repeated. “You comm
anded it to get back, and it did!”
For a few seconds, Cris felt dumbfounded. He had no clue what Paramo was talking about. And then he made the connection: Damarus created the spider, and Damarus was born in him. A rush of adrenaline flowed through him at that moment, and he looked toward the spider now with a renewed confidence. He wanted nothing more than to destroy this thing of evil, this thing that was his own creation.
“Get back to your hell hole and die!” he shouted.
Unbelievably, the spider obeyed, moving back toward its ceiling hidey-hole, slowly at first and then picking up speed, then burying itself deep within. Paramo struggled, like a wounded animal, to Cris’ side and watched, until the vast creature disappeared from sight. Both of them hung there for a while, entwined in each other, too weak to move, too moved to speak.
Finally, Paramo barked a laugh. “Cristian, you are truly a godsend…”
Cris didn’t say anything. Slowly, he started to move again; and like an automaton, stumbled toward the silken cocoon at the centre of the web.
Inside the spherical cocoon, the old woman who had become known as the ‘Samán of Monsula’ sat at her table, staring at the two men with some curiosity as they wandered in and approached her. Their eyes were wide, pupils bolt, their vision taking some time to adjust to the relative darkness within.
Cris wasn’t sure what to make of it all. He looked around the small room, noting the contents: a bed made from some silk-like substance, a chair, a dresser covered with dusty brushes, a mirror. It was like some nightmarish version of a child’s bedroom, sinister and contrived as though a hidden reality were thinly veiled beneath the surface. He made an abhorrent expression, trying to imagine what kind of life this woman had been forced to endure for all these years.
The Complete New Dominion Trilogy Page 49