Dedication
For my beloved mother
Patricia Chard O’Neil
1927-2016
Epigraph
“What a chimera then is man! What a novelty! What a monster, what a chaos, what a contradiction, what a prodigy! Judge of all things, imbecile worm of the earth; depositary of truth, a sink of uncertainty and error; the pride and refuse of the universe!”
—Blaise Pascal
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Henry V. O’Neil
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
“I’ve been here before, Mirror.” Olech Mortas spoke to a man who appeared to be his exact duplicate. Tall and blond but going gray, bearing the same facial features down to the wrinkles of middle age. They walked side by side down a carpeted hallway, and Mortas wondered again if Mirror was marked by the same abdominal and leg scars that he’d received in the war. He’d been fifteen at the time, and the wounds had whitened and faded, but they were still there.
“Of course you have. You lived in this place for five years. Both of your children were born here.”
“That’s not what I meant. You and I have been here before.”
“There is no such thing as time in this realm, Olech. No before, no after.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Mirror suppressed a laugh. “That was very funny.”
“We’ve had discussions, you and I. Many of them, since I arrived . . . wherever I am. How can that not have happened in the past?”
“We have talked. But as there is no time here, it couldn’t be in the past.” They reached a paneled door, on which hung a set of pink baby shoes. Olech touched an old crack in the wood, painted over so many times that it was almost invisible. He’d forgotten that defect many years before, and marveled at the completeness of Mirror’s memories. “How else could we be revisiting the events of your life?”
“I was hoping you’d explain that to me, at some point.”
“That would defeat the purpose.” Mirror flicked his blue eyes at the door, indicating Olech should open it. Knowing what would happen, he reached down for a pocket that hadn’t been there when they’d started down the hall, for keys that hadn’t been in the pocket. When he looked up, Mirror was gone.
That made sense, in a way, because now Olech Mortas was no longer gray or wrinkled. He was thirty years old again, the keys were something he handled every day, and he couldn’t wait to get inside to share the big news with Lydia.
Opening the door carefully, knowing that one of the bureaus was just a little too close. Passing the bassinet in the center of the living room, seeing it was empty just as he heard his wife’s voice from the office.
“Yes, Senator Mortas thought the speech went quite well. He’s very involved in matters important to veterans, as you’d expect from one of the Unwavering.” Mortas chuckled as he walked through the bedroom, still amazed at Lydia’s ability to work his war record into every conversation. Her words continued, warm, friendly. “I certainly will pass your congratulations on to him. And now that we have your contact information, you’ll be hearing from the senator more frequently.”
Despite the limited space, the apartment was spotless as always. The bed had even been made. Olech stopped in the office doorway, watching Lydia type at the keyboard with one hand while holding the baby with the other. Ayliss was strapped to her mother’s chest, reaching in vain for the dark hair that was firmly tied up out of reach.
“Well you certainly had a good day.” Lydia spoke before turning around. “I watched the whole thing. You were brilliant.”
He went to them, kissing his wife deeply before planting a gentle peck on Ayliss’s head. “I thought I rushed the middle.”
“I thought you sped up because your audience has a short attention span.”
“Apparently not.” The prideful smile spread across his face. “When I got done, I swear the whole Senate shook my hand.”
“Even . . . ?”
“Yes. Horace Corlipso himself. He was leaving the chamber, but he patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘Very good job, young man,’ as he went by.”
“Told you.”
He kissed her again. “You were right, as always. Did you see the reaction to the paragraph about increasing disability payments?”
“You mean the part I re-wrote over your objections?”
“That’s why I mention it.” Ayliss was tugging at the blood-red ribbon on his lapel, the medal awarded to the few survivors of the child army known as the Unwavering. He held it in place between thumb and forefinger, but leaned in so she could see it more clearly.
“So was that all Senator Corlipso said?”
“He really was leaving, so there was no chance to speak with him.”
“You should have tried.”
“Better not to look too eager.” The smile returned, and he pulled the two women in close. “But he did notice me. Horace Corlipso. How about that?”
He was back out in the hallway now, but that was no surprise. The memories were always sandwiched between solitary discussions with Mirror. Olech felt the years gradually return, and saw himself again in the graying man before him.
“You adjusted that speech so it conformed with the platform of a faction dominated by Senator Corlipso.” Mirror began. “Why was that?”
“Just a second.” Olech looked back at the apartment door, savoring the last sensations of having actually been there, wherever there was. He waited until it had all dissipated, and whispered to Mirror. “Those were the happiest years of my life.”
“I know. How could I not?”
“So is that what this is? You’re experiencing my memories?”
“Did that feel like a memory?”
“No. It was much more realistic than mental recall. I was actually there, back there, back then. I had all the thoughts that were in my mind that day. Things I’d completely forgotten.”
“Exactly. Human memory is imperfect, even when it’s intact. The intriguing element here is that all of that data is available to you. You just don’t know how to access it.”
“Did you learn that from studying humans in the Step?”
“Yes. That’s why your experiences here are so vivid and complete.”
“If you’ve already accessed this information, why are you running me through this? What do you hope to learn?”
“Humans demonstrate a worrisome inconsistency between their aspirations and their actions. From studying you in the Step, I know you made numerous decisions in the human realm that ran counter to your values. I seek to understand this, and cannot do that merely by observation.”
“You couldn’t have asked me about it?”
“Faulty memory is not the only obstacle here, Olech. Your fellow humans display a strong capacity for self-deception and rationalization, sometimes in the face of obvious factual contradiction.”
“That’s true.” Olech felt a lightness in his body, or whatever was represen
ting his body. It was a sensation he remembered from other conversations with Mirror, despite the being’s insistence that there was no time in this place. It almost always meant that Olech had accepted an uncomplimentary observation as accurate. “I doubt I’m going to be able to explain the inconsistencies in our natures.”
“Explanation is not the goal. You and I will achieve comprehension.”
“Why is this so important to you? You said you found our inconsistencies worrisome.”
“Not all of them. There is another human inconsistency, where your natural instinct to survive is overridden by other impulses. In some cases these impulses are of a very low order, such as greed or lust. In other cases, the impulse is highly noble, such as seeing an ideal, a person, or large numbers of persons as more important than yourself. You displayed that inconsistency when you went to war as a teenager. And when you embarked on the voyage that brought us together.”
“What happened to me, in that voyage? I keep coming into awareness here, with you, but I have no recollection of what happened.” Olech experienced a tremor of fear, which was surprising. Despite his confusion about Mirror and this realm, his conscious time in this place had always been accompanied by an abiding calm. “Am I dead?”
“You are physically alive, and your body is perfectly safe.” Mirror’s image began to blur, a signal that this period of awareness was about to end. “It is still inside your spacecraft, suspended between the realms, and it has not aged. Time is a thing of the human realm.”
“So time is passing, where I came from?”
“That is of no importance.” Mirror had turned transparent, and the corridor walls were following suit. Olech raised a hand, seeing right through it. Mirror’s words seemed to vibrate the vanishing atoms of his being. “Nothing there is of any concern to you at all.”
“Captain Varick. Lieutenant Mortas. Please stand to hear the panel’s findings.”
Jander Mortas pushed his chair back in stages, struggling with the brace that ran the length of his left leg. The brace itself wasn’t the issue; the pant leg of his dress uniform barely fit over the contraption and made every movement difficult. Erica Varick leaned down to help him, muttering under her breath.
“Come on. Stalling’s not gonna change the verdict.”
Mortas came to attention next to the tall Banshee, looking at the men on the raised platform. The room made him think of auditoriums at university, and he’d had to remind himself more than once that they were on board a spacecraft in the war zone. The Silenus was a bloated, luxurious transport for high-level politicians, and he’d deeply enjoyed its accommodations for the past days and nights.
“I should have known you were gonna get me in big trouble.” Varick whispered without moving her lips, staring straight at the panel. They were so far from the rostrum ahead and the half-moon tiers of seats behind that they probably could have conversed at normal volume, but that would have been unwise.
“Nobody made you flush that thing out to space. And I did offer to take the rap, if you recall.”
“I should have let you. They won’t do anything serious to Reena Mortas’s stepson. Me, they’ll probably draw and quarter.”
“Or worse—send you back to that staff job.”
“Not funny, Jan.”
The panel’s president, a corpulent senator named Bascom, cleared his throat. The audience behind Varick and Mortas came largely from Bascom’s oversized retinue, and they made noises indicating they were on the edges of their seats.
“Having reviewed your reports, and heard your answers to our questions, this panel declares its duties completed.” Senator Bascom’s ruddy cheeks glowed with self-importance. “Captain Varick, Lieutenant Mortas, we thank you for your cooperation, and we commend you for your bravery.”
Loud applause broke out in the tiers, and somehow Mortas knew the audience had come to their feet.
“Color me impressed.” Varick hummed. “Your stepmother’s man wasn’t lying. The fix was in.”
“When a Mortas family agent tells you everything’s been arranged, you can bet everything’s been arranged.” Jander concentrated on standing at attention. “Besides, their questions made no sense. I bet they didn’t even see the real report.”
The applause died down, but Senator Bascom wasn’t ready to surrender the limelight. “I believe I speak for the entire panel when I offer my regrets that your mission to Roanum turned out to be a hoax.”
The word brought a searing memory into Jander’s mind. A pretty, blue-eyed woman with reddish-brown hair, raising him over her head and throwing his body thirty yards through the air.
“Don’t say a word,” Erica hissed, sensing his sudden tension. “For once, just let things work out for you.”
“That ‘hoax’ threw me into a river full of snakes.”
“And I fished you out.”
“Those things almost killed us both. And my leg is killing me.”
Jander’s eyes shifted minutely, studying the other panel members. An aged admiral named Futterman glowered at him from Bascom’s right, despite having said nothing during the brief proceedings. To the senator’s left, Timothy Kumar nodded in solemn agreement. Tall and good-looking, Kumar was now a close adviser to Jander’s stepmother Reena, the woman at the head of the human alliance in the war against the Sims. Kumar had spent the previous day lobbing a series of easy questions at Mortas and Varick.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t have sneaked into my quarters last night.” Varick stifled a laugh. “Give your poor leg—and the rest of you—a break.”
“You came to my cabin last night.”
“Oh, you’re right. They’re all blending together.”
The comment distracted Mortas with the memory of an unexpectedly long chain of golden evenings spent with Erica. Coming together during the Roanum mission, they’d been harshly ordered to Earth following its chaotic end. Those orders had then been countermanded, leaving them waiting in space on a cruiser called the Ajax that had been their guardian angel while on Roanum.
The ship’s captain, a Mortas family loyalist, had left them to their own devices until being ordered to rendezvous with the Silenus inside a protective ring of Human Defense Force warships. Once transferred to the Silenus, they’d been surprised to find themselves assigned luxurious cabins right next to each other. The panel hadn’t convened for another week after that, and the two HDF officers had made pleasurable use of the time.
Bascom interrupted Jander’s reverie.
“I would like to extend my personal thanks to both of you for having undertaken this dangerous mission, and for your composure when Gorman Station was attacked. I wish you a swift and complete recovery from your injuries, Lieutenant Mortas. I know you’re working hard at your therapy. ”
Jander nodded at the senator, catching the flutter in the corner of Varick’s lips. He’d made her laugh the night before, and could see she was on the verge of starting up again.
“Thank you, sir. I’m giving it all I’ve got.”
Varick’s entire body twitched just once, and she gave off a tortured peep.
“You’re as dedicated as your father was, Lieutenant. I worked with him closely over the years.” Senator Bascom seemed ready to launch into a long anecdote, but Admiral Futterman cleared his throat with force. Bascom blanched, and then continued. “Your stepmother is waiting to see you on the Aurora, and we won’t delay your reunion. This panel is concluded, and you are both dismissed with our thanks.”
Seats clattered closed behind them, but Varick and Mortas stood frozen.
“The Chairwoman of the Emergency Senate came all the way out here?” Erica offered in a stunned monotone. “I knew you were going to get me in trouble.”
“Come on. Let me introduce you to my stepmom.”
“What do you think she’s going to do to us?” Varick asked as they waited outside the hatch of Reena Mortas’s office on the flagship Aurora.
“After that phony inquiry, I’d guess she’s go
ing to conduct an in-depth debriefing.”
“That makes sense.”
“But she could also be very angry that we killed the alien. I can’t be sure. We were never close.”
“Damn you, Jan!”
Nathaniel Ulbridge appeared in front of them as the hatch opened.
“Jan.” Short and blond, Ulbridge was well muscled and attired in the gray uniform of Mortas family security. “I’m sorry about Hugh.”
Jander shook the offered hand, and gave a brief nod. Hugh Leeger, Ulbridge’s boss until recently, had defected to the slave rebellion on Celestia under mysterious circumstances.
“Hugh made a choice, and even I have to respect that.” Leeger had been Jan’s bodyguard for most of his childhood. “He was always his own man.”
“No he wasn’t. Personally, I think that’s what broke him.”
Ulbridge ushered them into the office. Standing ramrod straight, the two officers marched up to the desk of a middle-aged woman with short red hair wearing a severe black tunic. Reena Mortas regarded them without emotion, and Jander saw that she’d aged considerably since he’d shipped out to the war zone over a year before.
“Captain Erica Varick and Lieutenant Jander Mortas reporting as ordered, Madame Chairwoman,” the Banshee said.
“So there you are. The two junior officers who decided to incinerate humanity’s only proven means of communicating with the Sims. Forty-plus years of fighting an opponent that looks just like us but chirps like a bird, and you threw away the only chance we ever had of conversing with them.” The blue eyes cut into them. “And then you were stupid enough to confess to that, in a report that would have leaked all over the alliance if the skipper of the Ajax hadn’t sat on it.”
Mortas stared at the unadorned wall behind his stepmother, trying not to shake his head. This was just the kind of political nonsense he’d hoped to escape in volunteering for the war.
“Did you read the report, ma’am?” Varick asked politely. “We gave a clear explanation for our actions.”
“You think so? The document I read told me that you conducted a highly successful meeting with the Sim delegates, using the alien shapeshifter as a translator. First time anything like that has been achieved in the entire war.”
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