Across the Great Rift

by Washburn, Scott;

  And she didn’t want to go through it again.

  So far, their use of physical torture had been pretty limited. They’d cuffed her around a few times, but none of them seemed to have the ruthlessness for anything more severe. They hadn’t even abused her sexually, although they’d made a few unconvincing threats of that nature. They really were amateurs and her trainers would have laughed at them. But it did not make the sessions the least bit pleasant, and the knowledge that with time they might lose their squeamishness was gnawing at her. She was being worn down bit by bit. She’d hoped to be left alone today…

  Several guards appeared outside her cell, but to her surprise, they did not open the door. Instead they had a video monitor on a wheeled cart which they set up so she could see it. She almost asked them what was going on, but the looks of raw hatred on their faces stopped her cold.

  “Here, traitor,” said one of them, “we’ve got something to show you.”

  “I’m not…” she started to say that she wasn’t a traitor, but cut herself off. She’d started that argument a dozen times, at least, and at best it had cost her a meal and at worst it had gotten her beaten. No point in it. Instead she asked: “What am I going to see?”

  “The results of your handiwork, bitch!” snarled the second guard. “Take a look!” He flipped a switch and the screen came to life. Carlina edged closer on her bunk to see, but then pushed herself back against the wall. No…

  The image on the monitor was divided into several sections. In the upper left corner was a small image of Governor Shiffeld, in the upper right were a group of people she did not recognize, although the image was so small she doubted she’d be able to recognize anyone anyway. Across the bottom was slowly scrolling a line of pictures showing peoples’ faces, more strangers. In the center were…

  Cold-sleep capsules.

  Rows and rows, stacks and stacks of cold-sleep capsules. The camera pick-up was slowly panning across a large cargo hold filled with them. And right underneath the scrolling pictures was written: P.N.S. Agamemnon. As she watched with widening eyes, there was a short gap in the line of pictures and then another group appeared, led by a man in a navy captain’s uniform. The words changed to: P.N.S. Barbican.

  The dead. They were showing the dead naval crews…

  “My friends,” came the voice of Governor Shiffeld, “we have gathered at this hour to pay tribute to our departed comrades. Comrades foully struck down in their sleep by a traitor in the pay of a foreign power…”

  “How much did they pay you, traitor?” asked one of the guards.

  “N-nothing,” she stuttered. She had not done this for pay.

  “Oh, so you’ll murder people for nothing at all? An altruistic butcher!” The man slammed his fist against the bars of her cell and Carlina flinched back.

  “…while we rightly mourn our dead,” continued Shiffeld, “we must carry on and complete the task they had committed themselves to. Finishing the gate and foiling the plot of the traitors will be the finest tribute we can give them.”

  The governor droned on and after a while the other group of people began to speak. They were chaplains or priests, it seemed. Unofficial ones, probably, but they went ahead and gave eulogies or benedictions for the various denominations the Anderans followed. Carlina scarcely noticed. She was staring at the faces of the dead. She’d deliberately never looked into any of the capsules when she was… when she was… She turned away and closed her eyes.

  “Watch!” snarled one of the guards. “You’re going to see this, you Venanci whore!” She didn’t respond and the man became even angrier. “Open your eyes, damn you! Open them or we’ll come in there and pin them open!”

  She twitched and her eyes popped open, and for an instant she was staring at the man. His expression left not the slightest doubt that he would carry through with his threat. Slowly she turned back and looked at the screen. The dead stared back at her. She did not recognize any of them…

  … but they were showing the dead crew of P.N.S. Daring now and P.N.S. Exeter would be coming up soon.

  * * * * *

  Brannon Gillard watched with growing anxiety as the Newcomers’ ship swelled in the viewport. It was as huge as he’d been told. Part of him was glad that the monstrous super-ship they had arrived with had been disassembled. Its components were now far enough away to be merely bright specks among the stars. The sight of that behemoth might have unnerved him completely. On the other hand, the fact that they had disassembled their vessel meant that…

  “You can just make out what they’re building,” said Andra Roualet from beside him. “See it over there?” Brannon looked and after a moment picked out the faint image of a nearly circular structure, surrounded by many smaller objects. There was nothing to give it any scale, but he had been told that it was over a kilometer across.

  “And we still don’t know what it’s for?”

  “No. Most people seem to think that it will be some sort of enormous space station. Being circular they can spin it for gravity, except…”

  “Except they don’t need spin gravity. They can make their own.”

  “Yes, that’s true. Brannon, do you… do you think it might be some sort of weapon? I mean if you are right and these really are the World Stealers…”

  “I think that I am right, Andra, but as for what that thing may be… well, it seems to me that should be one of the first things we ask these people. After all, this is our star system and I don’t think anyone, not even the Seyotahs, gave them permission to build anything like this.”

  “Well, it is open space, Brannon. It’s not like an asteroid field orbit that you can lay a claim to. Anyone can build out here.”

  “Any one of us. They are not one of us. You would think they would have at least asked—or told us what the thing is!”

  “Yes, that does seem a bit… presumptuous of them. Arrogant, too.”

  “Arrogant, yes. Just as we are told the World Stealers are. Andra, we must find our proof and present it to the clans!”

  The woman looked very uneasy. She glanced at the two men on the far side of the compartment and then back at Brannon. “You aren’t going to cause any trouble here, are you?”

  He followed her glance. The two men were wearing priestly robes just as they were, but they were not priests. They were men with very special skills who Brannon had hired. Andra had been fretting over them the whole voyage here.

  “Well, I’m not planning on killing anyone or blowing anything up, if that’s what you mean. But to get what I need may require going outside normal channels. Those two are supposed to be very good at that sort of thing.”

  Andra shook her head and turned back to the viewport. They had arrived at their destination. The Newcomers’ headquarters ship loomed nearly motionless a hundred meters away. A long tube projected from the side of the vessel and ended in a large docking module which could handle a dozen ships at once. Half of the attachment points already had ships connected to them. Their own ship was gently moving to hook on to another.

  “They are being polite enough now,” said Andra. “Inviting us here, providing us with facilities and supplies, talking to us. Their ambassador seems very gracious from what I’ve heard.”

  Yes, their ambassador, the same woman who was so prominent in the boy’s memory. He’d been amazed when he’d first seen her picture. Surely the Lifegiver’s hand was guiding the events here, but to what end? “But their hospitality could all be to disguise their true purposes. We must get past this screen and find the truth.”

  Andra shook her head again. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please make yourselves comfortable,” said Regina Nassau. Tad Farsvar looked at his friend from across the large conference table and wondered if he should tell her that the clans did not make use of the sort of tables the Newcomers favored. Would she be embarrassed or angry? He doubted it, as Regina seemed to be very adaptab
le—and very hard to embarrass. He was simultaneously glad and disappointed that the ‘average’ temperature that had been agreed upon for the general meeting area was a bit lower than Regina found comfortable. Because of the chill she was dressed quite modestly today—at least for her. The thick white sweater she wore was still very form-fitting and displayed her remarkable curves very well. He caught her eye as he sat down and she smiled at him. In spite of the warmth of her smile, he shivered. If the compartment was cool for her, it was downright frigid for any Seyotah. He wore a heated environmental suit and helmet, but it was still cold.

  But in spite of the discomfort, he was very happy to be here. He’d been surprised when the clan council had included him in the embassy to the Newcomers, but they seemed to think he had some special connections here. Well, maybe he did. His family had been thrilled; they seemed to think he was some sort of good luck charm—well, maybe he was. Naturally, the council had included a few ‘older and wiser heads’ to actually run the mission and he was happy enough to leave that to them. As far as he was concerned, this was just the best sight-seeing holiday he could ever ask for, and if it served to improve the clan’s relations with the Newcomers, so much the better. They had been having daily meetings like this for several weeks, but the rest of the time he was free to explore.

  “Is everyone comfortable?” asked Regina. The replies all seemed to be in the affirmative, although nearly all the clan representatives were wearing some sort of protective gear. Only the Meheran representatives were not, but they wore heavy clothing and periodically breathed from small gas bottles hooked to their belts. Still, this was entirely typical for a multi-clan meeting: a few people almost comfortable while everyone else was not.

  “Yesterday we had a very interesting discussion concerning the respective histories of our peoples,” continued Regina. “I’ve had some requests that we continue that today. I think it is very important that we learn these things about each other to better understand just who we all are.” Tad scarcely had to look at his translating computer. He was becoming very used to Regina’s language and she was steadily adapting her own speech to what the clans considered normal. “From what we’ve been able to determine, your ancestors left the Orion Arm about two thousand standard years ago. Obviously, a lot has happened since then! About the time your people left, the organization which eventually became the United Worlds was just forming. Because of what came later we don’t have the best records for that period, but we do know that a central government was formed, based on Old Earth, and that rapid expansion out into the Orion Arm took place.”

  “Which drove our ancestors from their homes and across the Rift,” said one of the men sitting at the table. Tad looked and saw that it was the Clorindan priest. The man had caught his attention from the moment he saw him a few days earlier. He wore his hair in a very short, very un-Clorindan fashion, but Tad was certain that he had seen him somewhere before. On Panmunaptra, perhaps?

  “Uh, yes,” said Regina, “the records would tend to confirm that, sir. A tragedy, to be sure. The spirit of the United Worlds seems to have been one of relentless expansion with little regard for the rights of the individuals. This philosophy, no doubt, led to the eventual destruction of the UW.”

  “Destruction?”

  “Yes, the UW became increasing tyrannical; a central group of Core Worlds, clustered around Old Earth, enriched themselves while the outer provinces were ruthlessly exploited. Ultimately, about a thousand years ago, a great revolt broke out and the UW collapsed and was destroyed.”

  “You are speaking of a… of a war, then?”

  “Yes, the most terrible of wars,” said Regina, shaking her head sadly. “While the UW certainly deserved destruction, the ensuing war spun totally out of control. Old Earth, the Core Worlds, and thousands of other planets were left uninhabitable. The death toll can scarcely be imagined, but it was in the trillions. The war went on and on as the rebels splintered into dozens of competing factions. Finally, there was almost nothing left to fight over—or with. A dark age followed.”

  “I see,” said the priest, scowling in thought. “So you and your government have no direct connection with the W… with the people who drove out our ancestors?”

  “Direct connection? No, no trace remains of the United Worlds or whatever came before. Andera and all the other current star nations have arisen within the last few centuries from the ruins left after the revolt.”

  “And now you have rebuilt your civilization—and come here. To our system. Why?” Tad leaned forward eagerly. Regina had side-stepped that question a dozen times before when he had asked, but she could not evade giving an answer this time. The other clan members looked on with equal interest. Regina hesitated for a moment but then spoke.

  “First, I must tell you that we did not expect to find you here. Our records give no hint that anyone had crossed the Rift in the times before the revolt. We assumed that we would arrive in an unoccupied star system. Your presence came as a great surprise. Our initial intention was to found a colony here and then begin exploring the Perseus Arm.”

  “Surely you realize that will no longer be possible,” demanded the priest.

  “Yeah,” growled the Frecendi representative from where he was slouched in his chair. “We asked ya to come look at our planet to see if it could be made a little nicer, not t’ settle for yerself! It’s already taken!” Tad wrinkled his nose and scowled. He found the Frecendi to be crude and more than a bit embarrassing. When the clans had first arrived at Refuge, only the Frecendi had been adapted to the sole inhabitable planet. They had landed, made themselves at home, and had generally backslid ever since. They had few dealing with the other clans except to buy bits of technology they were no longer able to produce for themselves. Their customs and even their speech had grown different over the centuries.

  “Uh, yes, our colonization plans are clearly obsolete,” said Regina. “Still, from what we have learned of you, vast regions of this arm are still unexplored and unoccupied. And, as we’ve already seen, the potential for trade between our peoples is considerable.”

  “So far all you have wanted from us is ice to crack for fuel for your ships and raw ore for your mysterious building project, Lady Regina. What, exactly, is that thing out there?” Many of the other clan members nodded their heads, they all wanted the answer to that question. But Regina seemed a little surprised.

  “Why, it is a gate, of course.”

  “A gate,” echoed the priest. “Explain please.”

  Now Regina looked puzzled. “Oh, I’m sorry, our records indicate that gate technology had been around before your ancestors were… oh, well, in any case, a gate allows instantaneous travel over interstellar distances. We are building a gate which will allow us to cross the Rift.”

  “Instantaneously? All the way across the Rift, from the Orion Arm?”

  “Yes, as you know, crossing the Rift using starships takes years. The gate will allow us to trade with you on a practical basis. No doubt your ships could use the gate, too, and visit our worlds.” Tad jumped in his seat. Visit Regina’s worlds? See the places where these huge ships were built? He had never even imagined the possibility of such a thing, but now that he knew it could happen, the desire to do so was nearly overwhelming. Some of the other clan members seemed to be having similar thoughts, but the priest was still frowning.

  “It would also let your people come here in large numbers, would it not?”

  “I suppose; there is considerable interest in exploring the Perseus Arm and there are always the prospectors looking for new ore deposits…”

  The priest looked like he wanted to say more, but there was now a flurry of questions from the others about the capability of the gate, how long it would take to complete, and how much they would be charged to use it. Regina spent quite some time trying to answer all of them and finally had to call for a recess. Everyone agreed to this since they had been in their protective gear for some time. As the meeting broke up, T
ad noticed the Clorindan priest still sitting in his chair and frowning.

  Where have I seen him before?

  * * * * *

  Brannon Gillard watched as the other clan members filed out of the meeting place. He noticed the Seyotah boy staring at him and turned his face away. Clearly some of their shared memories were surfacing and that could mean trouble. He’d never considered that the boy might be here and that was careless of him. After a few moments he looked and saw that he was gone. He sighed in relief.

  The relief was fleeting, however, as the recent conversation surged back to the center of his thoughts. A gate. A way for them to swarm across the Rift in no time at all. Disaster! All of the half-formed plans for opposing the World Stealers which he had accumulated over the past weeks were based on the presumption that the enemy would be forced to operate at the end of an absurdly long line of communications. Supplies and reinforcements would take years to reach here. If the clans could just defeat this initial vanguard, they would have the time and breathing space to prepare for any follow-up waves of invaders.

  Now all those plans were in the scrap heap.

  If the enemy could bring in their supplies and reinforcements instantly, with no delay, then there would be no hope of stopping them. Panic began to grip him. No! Calm down and think! He gripped the arms of his chair and forced himself to breath slowly and deeply, forced himself to think. As he did so, he slowly began to realize that he had been wrong—completely wrong.