by Tom Merritt
His most unexpected assignment came from the hermits.
The planet was known as the Hermitage for most of its inhabited history, though it had been uninhabited for a majority of its existence. It contained no significant natural resources. The climate was stark. It was only about thirty percent water, and most of that was salty ocean. The land was majority rock. The inhabitable areas were barely vegetated with few streams or wildlife.
A few mining colonies were attempted but went broke fast. Researchers and scientists visited, but their studies found little of any value and they moved on quickly. It finally became a refuge for hermits. They came from all species, except for the Sensaurians. There was even a Progon hermit. These loners preferred no contact with others. The Hermitage planet was perfect for that. Nobody but other hermits came there. There was just enough of a biosphere to scrape by.
The few things needed from offworld were provided by a single trading post. It had expanded into a full general store at one point with a market and even a few souvenirs for the extraordinarily rare visitor. However, the owner had started to get ideas about creating a tourist destination. When she tried to charter visits, the usually unflappable hermits got angry. It was the closest to starting an organized government the planet ever got. Several of the hermits gathered together and demanded the owner leave the planet.
After that, the store shrank back into a trading post, run by a series of people content with providing the few goods the hermits required with no ambitions beyond that. That’s what made the assignment so odd for Ambassador X.
A hermit had requested Alendan assistance. She asked to meet Ambassador X at the trading post to give further information. It was a voluntary assignment. The Alendans had acknowledged the request but not committed to it. Since Ambassador X did not have any conflicting mandatory assignments at the moment, he could not resist.
The Verity set down as close to the trading post main building as it safely could. A quiet woman named Fer was the current proprietor. She met Ambassador X at the door and offered him food and drink, which he declined.
The trading post’s main building was the only one in use. It was a one-story wooden structure set apart from the ruins of the others, surrounded by dusty ground. There were no windows, but the door hung open most of the time. Two hand-built wooden chairs sat in the strip of shade under the awning next to a small hand-built table.
Ambassador X asked if the hermit who had requested assistance knew he had arrived, and Fer nodded. She showed Ambassador X to one of the chairs and asked him to wait. After a while, he went inside the trading post anyway. Shelves lined the floors filled with practical goods like rope, salt, tools, and the like. Fer sat behind a tiny table, not even a desk, reading a book. She looked at Ambassador X disapprovingly but said nothing.
He began to peruse through the shelves, curious what kinds of things they stocked.
“You call it a trading post. What do the hermits trade?” he asked.
Fer glared at him. “Things they find or make,” she finally said when she realized he would continue to wait for an answer. “Rope. Some evaporate water for salt. Like that.”
“So you don’t use any kind of money?” he asked.
“No,” she said and then added, “your visitor will be looking for you out front.”
He took the hint. Outside, a young woman wearing a simple linen dress sat in one of the chairs.
“Ambassador X?” she asked, standing.
“Who else?” he shrugged. “And you are?”
“Trink. I’m the one who contacted you.”
“So I gathered,” Ambassador X answered. He didn’t know the proper greeting for a hermit, so he made no gesture.
“Please sit,” Trink said, sitting back down herself.
“So what can the Guardians of Alenda do for you?”
“Not much,” she said. “But I’m more optimistic about what you can do.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“I reached out to Alenda because they send diplomats throughout the universe investigating and aiding war-torn societies,” she said using an archaic word for civilizations. “Am I correct?”
“Yes. That is my job.”
“Exactly what I’d hoped. I need to ask questions of someone who has seen the devastations happening throughout the universe. And am I correct that you travel in time?”
“That is correct.” Ambassador X felt out of his depth. This hermit had command of him. She didn’t seem to be certain about what he or his people did, and yet she knew much more than he expected. He was curious to hear her questions.
“Good. The historical perspective may be quite helpful. Ambassador X, hermits have been disappearing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What do you think is the reason?”
“War,” she said.
“The hermits are at war?”
“No, the war is hiding on Hermitage,” she said. “But let me hold off explaining that. I have a few questions if I may.”
Ambassador X’s head spun. “Of course. Go ahead,” he managed to say.
“Is there a vast war happening across time and hidden from most other civilizations?”
Trink was not one to pull a punch. “That is the question,” Ambassador X said. “We suspect so.”
“We?” she asked.
“The Alendans.”
“If I were to guess, the Alendans as a whole have little knowledge. But the Alendans in charge are participating and keeping you mostly in the dark. Your answer tells me much. Next question. Have you been able to stop the war anywhere and bring relief instead?”
Ambassador X breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, I have.”
“Good.” She nodded mostly to herself. “Final question. Can you help me the same way you’ve helped others?”
Ambassador X looked at her but could only see true sincerity.
“It’s a question I cannot answer properly based on what you’ve told me alone. But I can say I will try.”
“That will have to be good enough. I would like to show you some things near my home that may help you understand. Will you be my guest tonight?”
This definitely threw Ambassador X. He wouldn’t have guessed hermits were set up for guests.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but how would that work?”
Trink laughed. It was like breaking glass and a peal of bells. “You will see. But I can assure you if you’re not looking for luxury, you’ll be quite comfortable.”
The light faded as they walked through the scrubby land to Trink’s home. She lived not far from the trading post in a squat shack made of local brush. The building was divided into three rooms.
One of the rooms had a bed and washing area for Ambassador X. There was even a small space that worked as a shower and cleaning sink.
“Do you have guests often?” Ambassador X asked.
“No. I created this especially for you,” she said. “Or not you personally, but whomever the Alendans sent.”
“It must have been costly,” he said.
“I’d saved.” She laughed. “I hadn’t had much else to spend it on. Only so much rope and salt I need, you know? I’ll leave you to it.”
Normally, Ambassador X would have declined to stay. The Verity was much more comfortable. But he wanted to know more about Trink, and he wanted to get an early start.
The next morning, Trink made Ambassador X some kind of hot oatcake and a hot black beverage that wasn’t coffee but certainly was meant to appear and taste close to it. It didn’t, but he appreciated the gesture.
The oatcake was satisfying if unremarkable. It was a feast next to what Trink ate. She spooned thin gruel from a pottery bowl.
Ambassador X recognized it. “Is that emergency protein-ration soup?” he asked.
She smiled. “Cost-effective and easy to prepare. Lets me focus on other things.” He started to ask her something else, but she interrupted. “Have you ever been to this point before?”
She meant H
ermitage, but her phrasing caught his attention. “Point?”
She laughed again. She laughed a lot for a hermit. “Giveaway, isn’t it, saying point instead of place?” she said with a mischievous look.
“You’re Alendan!” he almost shouted.
She nodded. “Yes. But not a time traveler like you. I was once part of the Alendan Core. For a while.”
“I was supposed to meet with them once. They never showed up. Or if they did, they didn’t let me know who they were. You’re the first person I’ve met who admitted to being part of them.”
“They’re not really as mysterious as people think. But they know the rest of Alendan society misunderstands them, so they try not to call attention to themselves. It’s actually a very supportive community. It’s not a cult. They’ll let you leave anytime, but most people don’t want to. Most people who make their way into the Core find fulfillment there.”
“So why did you leave?” he asked.
“I spent a long time looking for truths. I traveled, just not in time. Many colleagues and friends said I should leave the Core and time-travel to find the answers I sought. But I didn’t. I know history. The answers aren’t there, or in the future either, I suspect.”
“And you think they’re here?”
“I think they’re here,” she said pointing at her head. “Coming here has let me focus. I’ve learned so much more, sitting and contemplating, than I ever did being distracted and confused all the time.”
Ambassador X laughed this time. “I couldn’t do it. I’d die for companionship.”
“Maybe you would,” she said, gathering up the dishes. “You’re not meant for solo life. But I think you’re still not a crowd person. You haven’t once complained of the lack of people or amenities. In fact—” She paused. “I’d guess your ship is all you need. Am I right?” She turned to put the dishes in a tub for cleaning.
“It’s a small truth, but I think you found one.”
She laughed again. “I’ve found a few that are a little bigger. But I have some facts that need another person to deal with. I’m not a zealot. I know when I need help. Come, let’s go. An example of what I mean is not far from here.”
They walked most of the morning. Everywhere Ambassador X went on Hermitage looked pretty much the same. There were no mountains. No real hills. Just rolling plains and scrubby vegetation with small rivulets hardly worth calling streams.
He saw where they must be headed long before they got there. It was a change in the landscape, black and charred. Something had burned or crashed. They walked in silence until they arrived.
A huge depression in the land had been created by several wrecked pieces of battleships. A war had been fought in the space above, and its shrapnel landed here. It would not be an odd scene if it were on Velkin 6. But it was like seeing a wolf in a clothing store on Hermitage.
“When did this happen?”
“Right before I sent the message. It’s what shook me into contacting Alenda. You came to a point soon after I sent it, so maybe five or six days ago local time?”
“But we have no record of a battle here. These are Progon parts, and those look like Sensaurian bucket pilot pods—”
“And that is an Alendan fighter cockpit,” she said.
“You’re right,” he admitted.
“You must have heard or seen the battle for this to fall here.”
She shook her head. “I only heard the impact. I spoke with other hermits nearby. They say the same. The skies were peaceful. Many of them contemplate it regularly, so many eyes were on the heavens. There was no battle. Only the fallout of one.”
“What an odd occurrence,” Ambassador X mused.
“If only it were so,” she countered. “After you leave me, you can orbit to confirm this, but there are dozens in this area alone. This is the first one to happen this close to me, but they’ve happened all over. Fer could tell you how many. The hermits who do talk, talk to her.”
“You’re telling me that wreckage from battles is falling out of the sky regularly on Hermitage, but no battles are taking place above?”
“Correct,” she said.
“I just don’t understand.”
“But you can. I can’t. This is something I can’t discover by thinking about it.”
“I suppose not.”
“Can you help me the same way you’ve helped others?” she repeated her question from the day before.
After a long pause, he said, “I can.”
“Will you?” she probed.
“I must.”
Then suddenly she put her hand on his shoulder and pulled his gaze away from the wreckage toward her. Her eyes fluttered up into her head. “I have thought long on this,” she said in a monotone. “The threads must be undone. This rope is long but frayed and wrong. Only one can make the instant right. Only one can break dawn on this long night. Be bold, X. Be brave, X. Be strong, X. What you will do is right.”
She lowered her arm, and her expression returned to normal. She smiled. “My apologies. Those inspirations come on me and I’ve learned to trust them.” She shrugged. “I hope it proves useful in some way. If not, well, you can quote it at parties.” She laughed. “Hermit verse.”
“What was that?” he said slowly.
“That was the product of my focus and thinking out here.”
“All right, Trink. I’ll try to remember what you said. Do you even know what you said?” He realized maybe she didn’t.
She repeated it verbatim and a little self-consciously.
“It’s kind of overdramatic and a bad rhyming scheme,” she admitted. “But they usually have insight all the same. I’m a hermit, not a poet.”
They walked back to Trink’s home and collected the few things he had left there, then she showed him the way back to the trading post. They never saw another person, but then that was the point of Hermitage. Fer answered a few of his questions about the reports of wreckage from other hermits. She didn’t volunteer much and seemed relieved when he was done talking to her. Trink walked him to his ship.
“For a hermit you’re awfully friendly,” he said. “I thought you’d scamper back up to your ho—home as soon as you could.”
“You were going to say ‘hovel,’ weren’t you? It’s OK. I’m a hermit, yes. I enjoy being alone and thinking. But it doesn’t mean I fear others. Not like Fer. She’s here because she fears others but doesn’t want to be alone. Perfect job for her. Constant visits from people who want to be alone. She found her niche. But don’t worry. I also found mine. I think you are on your way to finding yours too, Ambassador X.”
“Oh, I found mine. This is what I love.”
She cocked her head at this. “Not yet. But very close. Take care, Ambassador X.” She touched his shoulder and turned to begin the walk back to her home.
Inside, Verity took his report and plotted a surveillance orbit of Hermitage. They found hundreds of crash sites. Given the number of sites, there should have been tons of debris in orbit too, but orbital space was clean.
“What could cause battle wreckage to appear suddenly above a planet and fall to the ground without a battle ever occurring anywhere near the planet?” he asked aloud.
“A singularity,” Verity answered.
“Verity, you’re a genius,” Ambassador X said.
THE MISSION
Upon his return to Alenda, Ambassador X gave his report to Ambassador Le. The Assistant to the Secretary had been made a full Ambassador, but she still served under the Secretary.
“You can tell me everything,” she said to Ambassador X. He felt fairly certain this was a slight jab at the fact that he had refused to give her his report back when he was a Pilot. But this time, he held nothing back. He had no reason to. He wasn’t feeling spiteful.
“So you made one personal ground inspection and several orbital inspections?” she asked without looking up while taking notes.
“Yes.”
“Have you submitted visual records?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Her tone suggested there could be numerous reasonable excuses for not following procedure. There were.
“The nature of the records was such that uninformed interpretation could lead to incorrect and damaging conclusions, especially among the populace at large,” he quoted.
“Section 7.06?” she summarized.
“Just so.”
She looked up from her notes. “It’s OK to quote rules and regs by number with me,” she remarked, then looked back down. “What is your confidence level that these ruins were valid?”
He hadn’t estimated that. “Pretty confident.” He smiled.
“So you don’t have Kourou Scale value assigned?”
“How about ‘high’?” he joked.
She didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. “I’ll write seventy-five percent unless you object.”
“I’d say ninety,” he interrupted before she could note it.
“And you have the Kourou Scale work to back that figure up?” He sensed the slightest twitch to the corner of her mouth. Ah-ha. This was what made a joke to her.
“I haven’t claimed otherwise. Say ninety-two percent.”
She nodded.
“Will the visual records show Progon, Sensaurian, and Alendan markings clearly, or will your logs be needed to bolster authenticity?”
He hadn’t thought of this either.
“I’d have to ask Verity,” he said. “But my logs will bolster it.”
She sent a request to the Verity.
“My ship has you on its communications list?” he asked.
“She requested it.” The twitch again.
“Oh. Well. Machines will talk.”
Her head jerked up.
“I mean Verity, of course,” he answered, grinning again.
This time she broke into a cold smile. The kind of smile you give to a worthy opponent. No love. Just admiration for the move.
“This is very concerning. Your 7.06 protection is correct and definitely necessary. This is Secretary’s eyes only from here on.”
Ambassador X went back to the Verity to relax and wait for his next assignment. He asked Verity about Ambassador Le.