At dawn of the third day Liam said, “We’d better go, if you’re ready. I’ll program the jump for you if you like.” Terry shook his head; since they had only six days of consumables left, this would be their last jump into the unknown. He might never have the chance to make another. “You can program our next one, when we return to civilization,” he said.
Once aboard Estel, he chose the most distant star they could safely reach, marked on the charts but unnamed. He entered its coordinates carefully and double-checked the AI’s calculations as he always did, then showered and joined Liam for breakfast. They returned to the bridge together; it was almost time. When the countdown paused for the captain’s authorization, Terry drew a deep breath and gave the command to execute.
The familiar sense of disorientation came over him briefly, then faded into a sense of completion. They had jumped.
But they had not emerged near a star.
He could see no light in any direction, nor was there any detectable by the instruments. The space around them was black, and the constellations visible through the viewport were unknown to him. Terry could not believe it had happened. A miscalculated jump was what every pilot feared, and it was not unusual for ships to be lost that way. But he’d jumped so many times in the hundred-odd years he’d been flying. . . . surely he couldn’t have miscalculated now. . . .
Perhaps the AI had malfunctioned. Or perhaps fate had, for the last time, intervened.
It took a few moments for him to absorb the implications. With no knowledge of where they were, there was no way he could program a jump to a charted location; the charts were useless. They could jump from star to star forever without happening on one with a settled planet. And they did not have forever. They had life support for only six days.
Terry turned to Liam, knowing that these facts didn’t have to be stated. “Liam,” he said, “I’ve sensed all along that something was going to happen on this trip, though it didn’t feel like danger. Now I see that was because death isn’t danger when the time comes for it. I’ve had a long life, and this is the way I’ve always wanted to go—in space, out among the stars, not tied to the surface of some planet. My only regret is that I didn’t recognize the premonition and come alone.”
Liam, as he expected, was calm; he showed no signs of having received a death sentence, and in fact seemed unwilling to acknowledge the inevitable. “You’ve still got plenty of life ahead of you,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have, even if we weren’t in this fix. I’m not immortal, Liam. You may not realize it, but I’m already older than anyone else not born on Maclairn—”
“You are one hundred twenty-six years old.”
Astonished, Terry said, “I guess you picked that up telepathically, because I never told anyone except Alison. And if you’re in that close rapport with me, you know I meant what I said. I don’t mind dying, just so I don’t have to watch you die, too.’
“Neither of us is going to die, not now.”
Terry ignored this and went on, “There’s a chance, a small chance, that you can eventually find your way back to a known region of space. We’ve got power for more jumps and life support to last one person for twelve days. I won’t be using any—I’m going to put on a spacesuit and go out the airlock right now.”
“You know I won’t let you do that, Captain.”
“You can’t stop me.”
Liam looked at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he said, “There’ll be no need to. In a few minutes you’ll see the light of the star we jumped to shining on a beautiful new planet.”
“That’s crazy,” Terry protested, wondering whether the shock of their situation had driven the normally-imperturbable Liam out of his mind or whether he was pretending it had in the hope of seeming too far gone to save. “Why say something I’m not going to believe?”
“Because it’s time you knew the truth about me. I am not what you think, Terry. I’m what you would call an Elder, an agent of the interstellar Federation.”
Terry recoiled, stunned. Oh, God—he had failed, then, after all he’d gone through the past hundred years to stay away from anyone who might draw the secret from his unconscious mind. There was nowhere else Liam could have found out about the Elders.
“I knew you were psi-gifted, but I didn’t think you had the power to breach private thoughts,” he said bitterly. “And now you taunt me with the evidence, when you know in your heart I’ve got only a few minutes left to live—”
“I didn’t steal anything from your mind,” Liam assured him. “You hid your knowledge of us well, and I know what that cost you. But the need for total secrecy is past. What I just told you is true—I am an alien Elder. You are on the threshold of your destiny, and I’m here to help you reach it.”
Part Seven: Ydoril
58 - 59 - 60 - 61 - 62 - 63
~ 58 ~
Liam an alien Elder? At first it seemed too incredible to take seriously. And yet, Terry realized, it would surely explain many of the mysteries that had surrounded him: his agelessness, his self-containment, his superb skill at everything he did. . . .
“Why now?” he asked after a pause to get his bearings. “Why, when I was led to believe I must pretend not to know about the Elders for the rest of my life . . . or are we about to die after all? I suppose it’s okay to enlighten me further if I won’t be seeing any more humans.”
“You’ve got many more years to live,” Liam declared. “But the situation has changed. You were told long ago, weren’t you, that your human race would soon be ready to join us?”
“Not as we reckon time—Laesara said several generations—” He broke off, suddenly grasping what had never before occurred to him. He had assumed it wouldn’t be within his lifetime. But generations were short compared to the century since he’d first met Laesara. His son was nearly a hundred years old and quite probably had great-grandchildren, even great-great-grandchildren by now.
Terry drew breath. “You said we’ll see a planet—you mean your planet? But there are no worlds out here, we’re not even near a star.”
Liam smiled. “There are worlds. As you know, our solar systems are shielded from the sight of immature civilizations. The AI didn’t fail during the jump—I reprogrammed it while you were in the shower. If you choose to accept the role we hope you will, a shield will be lowered for Estel.”
“Oh, my God—I’m to be the first official contactee after all? But then why didn’t you just say so when you did the programming?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me if we hadn’t been in a seemingly-desperate situation. You wouldn’t have been ready for the shock. Accepting the end of your former life is good preparation for being born into a new one.”
Terry’s head was spinning. To see the Elders’ worlds, to meet them not as a captive but as an equal. . . . He had known, in principle, that it would happen to humans someday; it was what he had striven for. He had not expected to be among the lucky ones.
Frowning, he asked, “Is this compensation for what was taken from me, or a reward for my silence all these years?” He wasn’t sure he liked that. He hadn’t resigned himself to their decree for a reward. The idea made him feel manipulated, somehow, as if his decisions hadn’t been wholly his own.
“If you feel that way,” said Liam, sensing his thought, “then you understand why silence was necessary. We do not manipulate; that’s the point of concealing our existence.”
“Then is it because of what I did to further Maclairn’s goal?”
“What’s ahead is far more than a matter of what’s behind you,” Liam replied. “It is a recognition of your fitness to confront the experience. We have not manipulated you, but we have watched you. Since the day you took command of Estel, we’ve wanted it to turn out this way.”
“I might not have lived long enough. I never had the advanced mind training the Maclairnans receive, so I don’t know how I managed to stay healthy.”
“You did receive the training, Terry—un
consciously, hypnotically, at the time you were healed from your crash injuries. And there were subtle changes made to your body. Laesara couldn’t be sure that Maclairn’s goal would be achieved within your potential lifespan, but she saw to it that you wouldn’t die prematurely of old age.”
“I might have been killed, though. I nearly was, on Earth.”
“It’s true that Quaid might have killed you—we’re not omnipotent, though in most situations we could have intervened to save you if it had been necessary. It wasn’t; you managed just fine on your own.”
“But you did save me from losing Estel on Stelo Haveno,” Terry said. “All these years I’ve wondered how someone with your talents had been stuck there, and how you escaped from Fleet after you’d defied them—”
“One of our ships was waiting for me in high orbit, and I simply abandoned the Fleet shuttle. They probably never knew what happened to it.”
“How did you find out that I was in trouble there? Were you watching me all the time, way back then?”
“Even further back. I guarded Estel while you returned to Ciencia to get Alison; I was chosen then to be your protector, though I was forbidden to take action except in case of desperate necessity. I put a tracker on the ship, undetectable by your technology, so that I’d always know your location.”
Suddenly outraged, Terry protested, “Are you saying Laesara didn’t trust me after all, that if it had looked as if I might give away the secret I’d have been stopped?”
“No!” Liam assured him. “She trusted you implicitly. But you were too important to be lost in some risky enterprise or worse, some senseless accident.”
“I don’t understand,” Terry said in bewilderment. “I thought you never intervened in human affairs, yet somehow you got the Maclairn Foundation to require that I take you as copilot.”
“The Maclairn Foundation had nothing to do with your release from Draconis. I know you’ve been assuming it was your mysterious benefactor, which was a convenient cover for us. But actually the Elders arranged your pardon. As you’ve long known, we have agents at League Headquarters.”
“Was Gabriel Travis an Elder, too?”
“He was, and still is, the head of our team for liaison with your people.”
“But then why did he make me promise not to go to Earth when he must have known that I’d already pledged to stay away from it?”
“So that if you did assume he represented the Maclairn Foundation, you wouldn’t fear that it might put you in touch with mentors.”
Slowly, Terry took this in. “You’re telling me it’s been planned for me to visit your world all along.”
“Only since fate brought you back from exile. When that happened, Laesara began to believe that this is your destiny, the one Aldren foresaw. You could have rejected it—you could have stopped working for Maclairn’s cause and retired to a comfortable old age on some backwater colony world. But everything we knew from the probing of your mind indicated that you wouldn’t. That you’d keep trying to move humankind forward, and would gain enough wisdom along the way to adjust to contact with an alien society.”
Terry’s head spun. “I’m honored by your opinion of me.”
“The honor is mine to have been given this assignment, and to have gained your friendship. But Terry, we are asking a great deal of you. The role we’re offering you will not be easy to fill. You are free to decide whether to accept it—I can get Estel to Stelo Haveno if you’d rather not go on.”
“You know I won’t turn down a chance like this,” Terry said indignantly.
“I do, but you’re entitled to fair warning.” Liam paused, then said seriously, “Someone must be first, any time a human race is brought into the Federation, and you are far better qualified than is usual because you’ve had time to get used to knowing about our existence. Still, you should understand that there will be many challenges, not all of them pleasant. And you must decide now, because once you’ve been in contact with our culture there will be no going back.”
“I can never go back to the League worlds?”
“Physically you can, but you will be changed past your friends’ understanding. Interacting with us will be more overwhelming than you anticipate. To know that other species, other civilizations exist—even to read about them, see vids, and meet their representatives—is one thing, and it’s the closest contact most citizens of the League will ever have. But to visit alien worlds is something else. Few of your people are ready to cope with it, though we believe you are.”
“You’re underestimating us,” Terry protested. “A lot of us have psi capabilities now, and I’m hardly the only one who’s not prejudiced against new mind-powers.”
“It’s not a matter of prejudice. And psi sensitivity, important as it is, lies at the heart of the problem. You’re familiar with the concept of the collective unconscious, and know it doesn’t extend from world to world—”
“That’s why Maclairnans are born able to use abilities people in other colonies can’t,” Terry agreed.
“That’s right. Well, the collective unconscious of the worlds of different species contains a great deal that is foreign to you. Not only are their cultures based on it, but it’s inherent in the minds of those worlds’ inhabitants. And because you are telepathic, your mind will be constantly bombarded with input arising from that foundation, a core of concepts different from the one you’re used to. Unlike people born among us, you don’t know how to shut it out, and until you learn to do so, you’ll be uncomfortable and confused. The average Earthborn human would be crushed by it, but you are stronger and better prepared than most.”
Terry pondered this. “Liam . . . will I be going to your world as a guinea pig?”
“In a sense, though we have no doubts about you.”
“I mean if I proved unable to adjust to your society, would that change your decision about Earth being ready for contact?”
“No. We’d recruit one of the mentors, as we would have if you’d died. But your having known about us for the past century gives you an advantage.”
“If contact with alien minds is so upsetting,” Terry demanded, “why haven’t I been uncomfortable being with you all these years? Why didn’t I suspect you weren’t one of us?”
“Because I’ve been trained to close part of my mind to telepathic sensing—not just for secrecy, but to prevent perception of content that’s alien to you. That won’t be the case with everyone you meet on our worlds.”
Thoughtfully, Terry said, “You must also have been trained to cope with our collective unconscious, and to understand our culture well enough to pass as Earthborn. That’s why you’ve devoted so much time to reading.”
“Yes, from the time I entered the Anthropological Service, which is the organization responsible for observing younger species. Most members travel from one young world to another, but in an era when contact with a newly-mature civilization is close, some are selected to devote themselves wholly to preparation for it. I was privileged to be among them—and especially privileged to be your companion and ultimately, your guide.”
He would need a guide, Terry realized, and he was glad it would be someone he already trusted. Their thoughts touched without words, and for the first time in their decades together, the barriers in Liam’s mind fell. Gasping, Terry became aware that what lay ahead of him might indeed be overwhelming.
~ 59 ~
Silently, Terry gazed out at the stars while Liam spoke over the comm in a language strange to him. Then in the center of the viewport those stars shimmered, faded—and the dark patch was abruptly filled by a planet—a spectacular blue-and-green planet that looked as Earth must have before its forests were gone. He had approached hundreds of worlds during the past century, but not since his first sight of golden Maclairn had he been so awe-stricken.
“All your life you’ve wanted to discover something no human has seen before,” Liam reminded him. “Well, this is your chance.”
The sun, too, was
now unshielded; they were no longer in total darkness. Sunlight illuminated the alien world so that it seemed to sparkle. As they came closer, he could see that there were indeed large circles of reflected light amid the green areas. “Those are domes,” Liam told him. “They’re much larger than any on your League worlds, created by a technology you have yet to develop.”
“But why are domes needed?” Terry asked. “Surely that planet has a thick atmosphere, with so much vegetation there.”
“Think,” Liam said. “When you were aboard Laesara’s ship, weren’t there airlocks between compartments?”
Yes, of course there had been; she’d said the starship was crewed by members of various races who’d evolved on different planets. He’d been warned that the air outside her sealed quarters would be poisonous to him.
“You mean not all this world’s people are native to it,” he said, surprised.
“None of them are native to it; it’s a special-purpose colony and was created by a process you would call terraforming. Its atmosphere is breathable by only about half the inhabitants—and not, incidentally, by you and me.”
“It’s not your birthworld, then.”
“No, just my adopted one. Its name is Ydoril and it’s the headquarters of the Service I told you about, where all agents are trained and where they work between field assignments. No one else lives here but children, which not many of us have.”
Aware that his thought would need no elaboration, Terry ventured, “Liam, I’ve always wondered—”
“Why I’ve always seemed to get along without sex?” Liam smiled. “Actually I have returned here a number of times during my leaves—jumps are instantaneous, after all, and our ships are faster than yours in normal space. We’re forbidden to have intimate relationships with people on young worlds, which would exploit them and endanger our secret; but I do have women friends among fellow agents.”
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 81