“Of course not, which is why I feel guilty about sending you off knowing that you expect to gain your heart’s desire," Liam admitted. “I don’t want to spoil your pleasure in the prospect of homecoming, so I won’t offer specific warnings right now—some of the potential problems may never arise. But unless you’re willing to risk being hurt, you must not take this on.”
No risk could keep him away, Terry thought with elation. The people he’d known and loved would be gone, of course. He’d had few friends near his own age except for Fleet officers. Even Kathryn had been several years older. Dared he hope . . ?
“Kathryn may be still alive,” Liam told him. “She no longer travels with Promise to League Headquarters so we’ve had no recent news of her, though we do know that her second lifemate died long ago, and that your son became a mentor.”
His son! The son he had never seen, who was now just half a year short of his hundredth birthday and must have many descendants. He might be reunited not only with his wife, but with a whole new family. . . .
It was too much happiness to take in.
For a few minutes they were silent, while Terry absorbed the reality of it. Then Liam said, “There are going to be difficulties. In the first place, you can reveal our existence to the Maclairnans but not to Fleet. There’s no way Fleet could keep such a secret from the League; their duty would be to report it. And Fleet doesn’t let unauthorized ships approach Maclairn.”
Of course it didn’t. He himself had set up the surveillance system, all those years ago. “But,” Terry said, “when I reveal my identity—” he broke off, dismayed. He could not prove his identity. They had made sure that he couldn’t; his voice, his face, his fingerprints, even his DNA had been changed along with his ID chip. An old man’s claim to be Terry Radnor would be thought preposterous.
Can’t you change me back to what I was? he pleaded silently.
No, unfortunately. We could restore your coloring, but not your facial features or your voice. We don’t have a record of your original voice, or of your fingerprints.
And even if they did have, the Fleet cruiser now guarding Maclairn probably wouldn’t. Not after a hundred years. Possibly Fleet Headquarters, which couldn’t be contacted, would still have files containing his retinal pattern, but when combined with contrary evidence a match would be viewed as coincidence.
For there would be pictures of him. And it would be known that in defending Promise from pirates he had lost two fingers of his left hand. No League technology could have restored his natural fingers. Perhaps, he thought grimly, he should ask Liam to cut them off again.
Once, it wouldn’t have mattered if he wasn’t recognized. The original plan had been for any intruders to be kept permanently on Maclairn, a measure designed only to prevent the secret from getting out. But he had changed that. He had sent the message warning them never to allow a landing, never to make it possible for suicidal terrorists to destroy their world.
What would they do with an intruder now? Did they have some sort of orbital prison?
“Your best bet,” Liam said, “will be to identify yourself as the Captain of Estel.”
“Fleet wasn’t pleased by the Captain of Estel’s pardon. They can’t touch me as long as I obey the law, but if I ignore their order to leave Maclairn’s star, they’ll be only too happy to arrest me.”
“Yes. We’ll have to play it by ear.”
“You’ll be with me? Maybe you can do something with psi—”
“I’ll be along as your copilot and friend, but I can’t take any action a man of your own people couldn’t. It will be up to you to find a way to get to the surface.”
He would get there somehow, Terry told himself firmly. It was impossible to think he might approach Maclairn a second time without being able to land. And once there, Kathryn would know him . . . wouldn’t she? Despite lack of physical resemblance, she would surely recognize the touch of his mind. But what if they didn’t let him see Kathryn? What if they denied him any contact with Maclairnans?
Terry slept very little that night. Each time he wakened from a doze, he had to remind himself that what was happening wasn’t just one of the recurrent dreams he’d had so often, dreams in which he walked again on the surface of Maclairn, the only planet he had ever cared about. And held Kathryn in his arms again. . . . That he might be given a chance to relive his youth was beyond anything he had ever wished for, strong though his trust in fate had been since his once-futile exile had proved meaningful. There had to be a catch, he told himself—he mustn’t believe too strongly, because once he did, he would find it past bearing if it didn’t come true after all. He knew deep down that such a blow would put an end to his long-extended life.
He was sure Liam wouldn’t tantalize him. The Elders were too wise to have made unworkable plans—if they sent him to Maclairn, there could be no doubt that he would get there. And yet in the midst of elation a feeling of unease swept over him, something just beneath the surface, something he feared but could not put a finger on. Despite his wholehearted desire to go, a part of him was hesitant.
Was he perhaps afraid it wouldn’t be as good as he remembered? No, that couldn’t be it—he knew Maclairn wasn’t perfect; he didn’t expect that returning there would bring him undiluted joy in life. He knew he would not really be young again. He even knew that Kathryn might not love him as he still loved her, and that his son would consider him a stranger. But there was something else. . . . Not just the fear that Fleet would turn him away—a deeper and more subtle fear he dared not acknowledge consciously. . . .
No matter. He was going home. Past all hope, he was going to see Maclairn again before he died. Whatever trouble he might face was insignificant compared to that.
~ 65 ~
They left Ydoril early the next morning. Surprisingly, Liam urged him to depart without saying goodbye to anyone. Perhaps that was wise, Terry thought. There would have been sadness in farewells.
It was good to be back aboard Estel; he eased into the familiar captain’s seat with gladness. Yet he felt a pang of regret, too, as shining Ydoril receded into the distance. He’d experienced wonders there to which nothing could ever compare. If it were possible to go home without leaving the Elders’ universe behind . . .
He would miss it. Yet he felt no doubt at all about preferring Maclairn. Why then did he still have a sense of repressed unease? What could he possibly fear beyond the acknowledged problems?
He shut that puzzle out of his mind while preparing to jump, programming the AI with the coordinates he had learned when he was captain of Promise. The coordinates the terrorists had later provided when he’d taken Venture there, only to turn away. . . . He had never expected to use them again. To be entering them once more seemed unreal. Dizzy with the excitement of it, he jumped.
But when they emerged in Maclairn’s star system and settled in Estel’s lounge for the long trip through normal space, the nagging worry swept over him again. And looking across at Liam, he became aware that Liam knew its cause.
There’s no use hiding from it, Liam said silently. It has to be faced by the time you’re on Maclairn, so it’s best to come to terms with it now, while you’re under less stress.
I don’t understand—
It would have been cruel for me to bring it up last night. You deserved some hours of undiluted happiness. But as I warned you, Terry, this is a very difficult mission. Even assuming that you reach Maclairn’s surface, its success is not guaranteed.
Terry frowned. Aloud he said, “What potential is there for failure—of the mission, I mean? Whatever disappointments there may be for me personally, the Maclairnans will learn what I’m there to reveal—”
He broke off, sensing Liam’s uncertainty, and in horror grasped the thought beneath it—the thought he himself had not dared to let rise to the surface. “My God . . . are you saying they might not believe me?”
“Humans have been claiming to have met aliens for hundreds of years,” Liam pointed
out, “and listeners are used to assuming that it isn’t true. There’s an old fable on Earth that applies, I believe—something about crying wolf.”
“But—Laesara said—” She had said the mentors would draw it from his mind whether they were trying to probe or not. That was why he hadn’t been allowed to return to Maclairn. If they didn’t believe even when he told them the secret outright, the century of exile hadn’t been necessary.
His parting from Kathryn hadn’t been necessary. The years of confinement to Ciencia had been pointless. The loss of his identity had served no purpose. . . .
“You know better, Terry,” Liam said. “If you had not been on Ciencia for that precise length of time, you couldn’t have saved Maclairn from the terrorists—not to mention all you’ve achieved since. You couldn’t have gotten the colonies to believe in mind-powers. You couldn’t have defeated the Klan.”
“Laesara didn’t know about any of that when she barred me from Maclairn,” Terry said bitterly.
“No. That was why she grieved for you, and took joy in the fate that brought you back to us.”
“When she was dying she asked my forgiveness,” he recalled. “Did she know then what might be in store for me as your ambassador?”
“Of course. If you hadn’t been chosen for that role, you’d never have guessed that our revelation of truth will be resisted. So it might have been kinder not to have burdened you with it; but we judged you’d want to go back at any price.”
He did want to, of course—but how could he face Kathryn if they didn’t believe?
“Your exile was necessary,” Liam said. “It was virtually certain that at least a few of the mentors who knew you, who had contacted your mind before, would have realized that what they sensed in it was authentic; and they would have vouched for your sanity to any mentor you might have encountered. Only since the last of them died has that danger ceased to exist. And think, Terry—would you have wanted to go back later and be thought insane? Would you have been happy these past years on Maclairn, tolerated but not fully accepted as normal?”
“That’s a loaded question,” Terry declared, “and don’t think I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out.” Liam said sadly.
“But why, if I may not be believed, are you sending me instead of an Elder who could offer proof?”
“Because some human has to do it, and you are better qualified than anyone else. An Elder’s mind, if opened to probing, would contain too much that’s alien to be grasped without preparation—our culture needs to be seen through the lens of a human one. We could have taken a mentor to Ydoril, someone known to the others and therefore more likely than you to be believed—but that person, having just been stunned by the fact that we exist, would be in shock for a long time. In too much shock to absorb what you have absorbed about the essence of humanity common to all species.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Terry admitted.
“Besides,” Liam continued, “the stakes would not be as high for such a person. As you know, emotion plays a large part in psi. You will be desperate to inspire belief, which will give you a better chance to succeed than someone who doesn’t care as much.”
“And if I fail, they’ll at least start thinking about the possibility, so that the next ambassador won’t meet so much resistance. I’m expendable.”
“Perhaps. If so, it’s for the cause to which you’ve devoted your life.”
That too was true, Terry realized. He had nothing to complain about even if things went badly, and much to gain if they went well.
“The stakes are high not just for you, but for humankind,” Liam went on. “Ever since your first meeting with Laesara you’ve known that Earth’s civilization is on the verge of collapse. Only progression to Federation level can save it, which is why the success of Maclairn’s plan was so important. But the transition won’t begin until the Maclairnans choose to join us, and if they can’t be persuaded to believe now, it will mean they’re not ready. No other ambassador will be sent for many years, and perhaps that will be too late.”
“It’s asking a lot to expect them to believe without proof.”
“There could be no proof short of contact with another species—remember that you didn’t believe Laesara until she showed you her physical form. And for that to occur prematurely would destroy the sense of equality a new member race must feel. It would undo what has been gained by our keeping the secret this long.”
“How can so much depend on me?” Terry protested. “I’m just one ordinary person out of billions.”
“Hardly that. The fate of the world has depended on you several times before, after all. And the Eldest judged you a worthy representative. It’s not just a matter of your virtues—not your integrity or your courage, important though they are. It’s the content of your mind, Terry. What needs to be known about us is there for the mentors to draw on, whether or not they interpret it accurately. That’s not the case with anyone else.”
“Suppose I don’t know how to make them do it?”
“You will know. You’ve had enough past success in conveying your message to let yourself be guided by unconscious instinct.”
Terry gazed at his surroundings, at the interior of Estel where he had lived so long with the goal of spreading belief in coming change. This is where it all led, he acknowledged silently. I pledged long ago in the Ritual to serve Maclairn’s cause, no matter what the cost, and I reaffirmed that choice when I took command of Estel. And being the envoy of the Elders is part of the same thing. It’ll just be what I’ve been doing all along—believing in something, and persuading people to share my belief because I know the future hinges on it.
“You’ve accomplished a lot in the past hundred years,” Liam agreed, “and you’ve always come through. This is your last and greatest challenge. Whatever happens, you’ll be honored throughout the Federation, and ultimately by the people of Earth. But to me, what matters most is that I’ve had the privilege of being your friend.”
~ 66 ~
Terry programmed Estel’s course so that they wouldn’t pass near the outer planets or major asteroids on the approach to Maclairn, knowing the sensor stations he had placed on them a century ago were probably still there. Had Fleet spent a century watching for signals that never came? he wondered. Had there been any intruders besides the close call with the terrorists he himself had brought in? The cruiser Shepard was still in place, Liam had told him. It had never left, though personnel had been taken back and forth in small passenger vessels.
“Is there a Service ship on guard now?” he asked Liam as they neared the orbit of Corwin.
“Yes, as always, but we won’t see it,” Liam said. “I’m not permitted any contact before representatives of the Elders are invited to Maclairn—until then I’m here only as a member of your crew.”
Their relationship had reverted to what it was before he knew Liam’s true identity, Terry realized. He would receive no more advice from him. From now on, for better or for worse, he was on his own.
Because he’d successfully avoided all the outlying sensors, they weren’t detected until they reached Maclairn’s satellite ring. “Unidentified ship, this is Fleet Patroller Alpha from FHS Shepard. This entire system has been placed off-limits, as maneuvers are underway here,” the comm announced, echoing the words with which he’d challenged the Elders’ ship in Skywalker long ago. “You are required to jump at your earliest opportunity. Over.”
“Fleet Patroller, this is HS Estel, the captain speaking,” Terry responded. “The secret you are guarding is known to me. I come in peace to confer with the Council of Maclairn. Over.”
He could imagine the shock with which this declaration was being met, not only by the patroller pilot but by the officers aboard Shepard who must have heard it. By the time a reply came he was surrounded by more patrollers, small fast ships based on the cruiser, not the ground. “HS Estel, if that’s indeed your identity, yo
u are not welcome here,” a new voice said. “You are ordered to leave this system immediately. Acknowledge, please.”
“Shepard, if you are listening, know that I have cause to believe the Council will welcome me. Maclairn’s representatives have tried to contact me in the past. Over.”
“Estel, they may have wished to contact your original captain, but we are aware that you are not he. If the Captain of Estel who was sentenced to prison were alive now, he would be well over a hundred years old.”
If they knew the truth they would be even more incredulous, Terry realized. When the Elders had forged a new ID for him after the crash, they had subtracted ten years from his age, in anticipation, he now saw, of the unbelievable longevity they had given him. According to Fleet’s records he was therefore a hundred sixteen. Although since there was no ansible on Maclairn these officers couldn’t know that, anything over a hundred was unreasonably old for starship command.
“All who’ve heard of the Captain of Estel,” he replied, “know that I have often spoken about new powers of the mind. Long life is among the results of using those powers. I am Terry Steward, the man who was imprisoned.”
“That may be so, though I doubt it; but if it is, then you are risking another prison term by remaining here. For the last time, I order you to abort your approach.”
“Negative, Shepard,” Terry declared. “I will wait in high orbit until you have contacted the Council.”
“Estel, this is Captain Aaronson of Shepard speaking, You are not permitted to orbit. Turn back now, or you will be fired on.”
Terry held his course, uncomfortably aware that Estel was visibly armed. They wouldn’t fire to kill; he knew, as most pirates did not, that it was against Fleet policy unless the target fired first. But they would hit harder than they would hit an unarmed ship. “Brace yourself,” he told Liam, opaquing the viewport. “They’ll aim to take out the laser cannon.”
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 85