The Well of Time

by Robert I. Katz

  These questions fascinated Arlo Scott. Michael could not care less, just so long as they could go where he wanted to go.

  Jeffrey Billings, somewhat more morose than he used to be, volunteered to find out. His scout ship vanished into slip-space, travelled a light year or so and then returned. “No problem,” he said.

  “Full speed ahead,” Michael said.

  Seventeen hundred light years, over a week’s travel, until the stars would align into the configuration seen in the dead men’s brains. Michael was looking forward to the end of this mission.

  “I am bewildered,” Andrew Sloane-1 said.

  Michael looked at the box, still sitting on the small table next to the couch.

  “My mind has been split into two but both of us share all of our memories. We are identical. We were identical. How can this other me feel so differently?”

  “He has a body. You don’t. Perhaps simply having a body makes one feel differently.”

  The box did not answer. Finally, it said, “I had a body before.”

  Michael considered this. “The people of the Rift sent you to gather information and then return home. Could it be that the desire to return home was built in to that body?”

  “I do not know,” the box said.

  “But do you still want to return home?” Michael said.

  “Of course. I’m tired of being human. What’s so great about being human?”

  Michael frowned at the box and shrugged. “Damned if I know.”

  Chapter 25

  So far as the civilians onboard knew, their destination was just like any other, and the crew, though briefed on what to expect, had grown jaded. They had already stopped at many worlds, following wisps of information that had led them nowhere in particular. Most of them suspected that this destination would also turn into a dead end.

  The nightmares began the first night. Michael floated in space, surrounded by…something. Something vague, enormous and barely seen. It drifted closer. Another appeared, then another. Huge glowing eyes fixed on him. He tried to move and found that he could not.

  He woke up.

  Frankie, sleeping by his side, stirred. “You okay?” she whispered.

  “Just a dream,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Hmm…” Frankie had a tendency to snore, a soft, cat-like little purr, which Michael found quite adorable. Within moments, she was sleeping.

  Michael rose to his feet and padded out into the study. He fixed himself a cup of coffee and sat down in his favorite chair. “Romulus?” he said.

  “I am here.”

  “Anything unusual about this place?”

  “Aside from what we already know?”

  They already knew that it was far, far larger than any other pocket universe they knew of, which of course, was a very limited number, and they knew that time and gravity seemed to work the same.

  “Since entering this space, we have gathered much data, which I have discussed with Arlo Scott. We have come to the tentative conclusion that this is not a pocket universe at all.”

  Michael blinked. “What is it, then?”

  “A natural universe, apparently created by the same primordial forces that created our own. Our Universe is approximately fourteen billion years old and ninety-four billion light years in diameter. This Universe is somewhat older, seventeen billion years, and only a little smaller, eighty-five billion light years in extent.

  “The records regarding the construction of the installation on Chronos were largely destroyed during the wars on Electra, Chronos’ primary. Chronos 2 was intended to house the refugees from that war. Most of the first settlers fled the destruction of their original home world with nothing but the few possessions they could cram into small ships.

  “In fact, there is almost no data whatsoever on the two gates still functioning on Chronos, nor on the two Universes that they provide access to. For thousands of years, it was assumed that these Universes were products of the First Empire’s advanced technology.”

  “Strange that they never thought to explore them.”

  “They had their own world to build, and their ancestors were refugees from a civilization that had suffered genocidal warfare and socio-economic collapse. They were acutely aware of their own lack of size and military strength. They knew they were vulnerable. They felt it better to sit tight and keep a low profile.”

  Michael frowned. A new universe…a universe seventeen billion years old. One almost infinite universe was enough to provide an endless series of challenges and threats. Now there were two, at least… “Aside from its size and its age, are there any other differences between this Universe and our own?”

  “The background radiation is somewhat higher.”

  “That’s all?”

  “So far.”

  “The installation on Chronos contained only three gates. Isn’t that so?”

  “Correct,” Romulus said.

  “Douglas Oliver told me that there was once a similar gate on one of Illyria’s moons, entering a pocket universe that has long since expanded beyond its minimum density and ripped itself apart. How many other such gates were constructed, on how many secret worlds, and how many other universes are there?”

  “We have no idea,” Romulus said.

  He went back to bed and was undisturbed for the rest of the night. The next night, however, the nightmare returned. Red, glowing eyes, sharp fangs, something burning in the distance. The sharp smell of explosives in the air. A voice, crying out something he could barely hear, in a language he could not understand.

  A nightmare, Michael told himself, but there was something about this nightmare that seemed sharper, more real than most. The glowing eyes faded away. Far in the distance, a star glittered. The star grew as it approached and resolved itself into a ship, much like Gehenna but far, far larger. The ship bristled with guns and missile ports. Suddenly, Michael was hovering over a planet, an earthlike world covered in green continents and blue oceans. The ship turned its prow toward the world. Its missile tubes discharged. The world shimmered. Enormous outpourings of flame rose upward from each continent and merged together, high in the atmosphere, covering all the land. The flames burned for what seemed like hours and then faded, leaving the world dark with drifting ash.

  The dream ended. Michael spent the rest of the night in peace. As he was eating breakfast next morning in the lounge, Romulus spoke to him. “Andrew Sloane-2 is requesting entry.”

  Michael stopped, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. “Let him in.”

  The door dilated open. Andrew poked his head through the entry, then spotted Michael and walked over to the table.

  “Cereal?” Michael said. “Coffee?”

  “Thank you,” Andrew said. He smiled at Rosanna, cooking behind the counter. “Is that bacon I smell?”

  Rosanna brought over a large platter filled with cheese omelets and strips of bacon on one side and a stack of golden pancakes on the other. Andrew’s eyes lit up.

  Just then, Curly walked in, followed a few minutes later by Richard Norlin. “Like old times,” Andrew said.

  “So, Andrew,” Richard said. “What’s new?”

  Carefully, Andrew placed an omelet, three slices of bacon and two pancakes on a plate. He screwed up his face in thought and poured syrup over the pancakes, then poured himself a cup of coffee. He cut a small piece off one pancake, put it in his mouth and closed his eyes. He sighed.

  Curly looked at Richard and raised a brow.

  “That good, huh?” Richard said.

  “Yes,” Andrew said. “It is that good.” He stared down at his plate and a series of hard to read emotions crossed his face. “I have been delivered from darkness into light. Out of the great sea I have come. In this place I will abide, until the ending of the World.”

  Curly looked around the room, confused. “Here?”

  Andrew breathed deeply and a smile lit up his face. “Close enough.” He peered around the table, blinking. “Before, I
was merely an agent of my father’s will, with no will at all of my own. Now, I am free. I am free to be and to become whatever I can imagine. It was…unexpected.”

  An inner door opened. Frankie came out, sat down at the table and filled her plate. She yawned, picked up a piece of bacon and crunched on it, then peered at Andrew. “Where’s Gloriosa?”

  “She is sleeping. I did not wish to wake her.”

  “Rough night, huh?”

  Andrew’s smile grew wider. “It was a night like no other in all my experience, a night filled with poetry and music and wonder.”

  Frankie frowned and glanced at Michael, perhaps wondering why their own night had not been filled with poetry and wonder.

  “That sounds very nice,” Michael said.

  “Every word she says, every breath she takes, everything that she does fills me with delight,” Andrew declared. “She is everything to me.”

  This might have been a bit over the top, but Michael appreciated the fact that Andrew was pleased with his current circumstances. “Hmm…” he said.

  “Must be nice,” Curly said, and squinted at Rosanna.

  Andrew looked suddenly confused. “I don’t understand the spurs, though.”

  Rosanna raised an eyebrow. “Spurs?”

  “Sharp pointy things that are worn on the feet. I believe the intention was to stimulate my ardor.”

  Curly blinked at him. “Ouch,” he said.

  Frankie snickered.

  “That,” Michael said, “might be too much information.”

  “Did it work?” Frankie said.

  Andrew hesitated. “I am not sure. They did induce me to move faster.”

  “Well, then.” Frankie glanced at Michael, a gleam in her eye. “They must have worked. Where can I get a pair of spurs?”

  “I will ask her for you,” Andrew said.

  “That’s all right,” Frankie said. “I’ll ask her myself.” She laughed. “I’m sure she’ll give me all the details.”

  Nobody else talked about nightmares. Nobody else appeared to have slept poorly…but that night, it happened again, and then again two nights later.

  “How many systems lie between us and our destination?” Michael asked.

  “Over two hundred,” Romulus replied.

  “Drop out of slip-space at the next system. I want to see something.”

  Three hours later, Gehenna emerged. Ahead of them lay a red-dwarf sun with a rocky, Earth-like world orbiting in the habitable zone. A few hours later, Gehenna floated above it. Once, long ago, this had been a lush, fertile world. There was still life in the oceans and plants springing up through a layer of ash but the world was effectively dead. It had been sterilized.

  “Who would do this?” Anson said. “Why was this done?”

  Michael shook his head and didn’t answer.

  They dropped out again at the next system they passed, and then again and again. Only one of these systems contained a world that might have supported Earthly life, and it was untouched, with blue seas and green continents. Bird like fauna flew through the skies. Large herds of mammalian looking animals ate grass and wandered across the plains.

  “Nothing intelligent,” Captain Thorenson said.

  “No,” Michael said.

  The next system contained a thriving civilization. Towers rose upward through the clouds and factories burrowed deeply into the earth. There was life in abundance, the dominant species being a race of tripedal, squid-like beings with a row of human looking eyes circling a round, soft looking head. The factories were turning out weapons: missiles, lasers, plasma guns. A fleet of ships patrolled in orbit, all of them larger than Gehenna.

  Before they had travelled more than a few thousand kilometers toward the planet, it became apparent that the fleet had detected them. Over fifty ships turned their prows toward Gehenna and moved in their direction.

  “Get us out of here,” Michael said.

  Chapter 26

  They surveyed five more systems. None contained intelligent life. One contained a world that had been sterilized, with the blackened husks of trees pointing upward through the ashes and the remains of cities shattered into rubble.

  Michael dreamed again that night. The great ships approached a blue, glowing world, opened fire and watched as the world burned.

  The next day, Michael sat alone in the chair in his office, staring into nothing, when the voice of Andrew Sloane-1 came from the box. “I can see by your demeanor that something is bothering you. I suspect I know what it is.”

  Michael raised his head.

  “The beings that inhabit this space bear a certain resemblance to my people, though they are far more primitive. They are beings born out of metal and rock and energy. I can hear their voices. I think that you are hearing them, too.”

  Michael sighed. “Good to know I’m not crazy. Why me? Why not any of the others?”

  “Are you certain that none of the others have been affected? People rarely speak of visions. They are reluctant to—as you say—have their fellows consider them crazy.”

  Michael leaned back and thought for a second. “Romulus?” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Has there been an increase in visits to the sickbay?”

  “Yes. During the prior two days, forty-two of our military personnel and seventeen civilians have requested sleeping aids.”

  Michael frowned at the box. “Thank you, Romulus.”

  Beings of rock and metal and energy, trying to deliver a message. “Is this a warning, do you think? Or a request for aid?”

  “Perhaps both,” the box said. “It is impossible to say.”

  “Can you communicate with them?”

  The voice issuing from the box seemed hesitant. “Not in words,” it finally said. “Their thought processes are confined to simple images, associated with a layer of emotional nuance.”

  “Then try to reassure them that we’re going to take care of their little problem.” Michael grimaced. If we can, he thought. “And tell them to leave us alone.”

  “I shall do my best,” the box said.

  The crew were at their stations, the shops and restaurants closed, the civilians confined to their quarters. Nobody knew what lay beyond the final barrier but none of them expected it to be pleasant or benign. The senior officers were assembled on the bridge, with Twyla Thorenson linked in to the brain.

  “Three, two, one,” Romulus’ disembodied voice counted down.

  The quantum haze of slip-space vanished. Stars shone in through their screens. Ahead of them, just a bit brighter than the rest, a red star glittered.

  “A red dwarf,” Romulus said.

  Not a surprise. Red dwarfs were the most common type of star in our own Universe. In this one too, apparently. They were stable and long-lived and tended to have rocky, Earth-like planets in their habitable zone.

  The screens filled with data. One small planet. No moons. A few asteroids in elliptical orbits. The usual ship-to-ship and ship-to-planet chatter was missing. From this distance, the system seemed empty of intelligent life. Michael breathed an inward sigh, relief mixed with disappointment. It was good that nothing was shooting at them but he had hoped to find more than an empty system. Then again, the search was far from over.

  “Proceed,” Captain Thorenson said.

  Ten hours later, nothing had changed. Nothing hailed them. Nothing had approached. “You know what to do,” Michael said.

  “Yes,” Romulus replied. Slowly, gingerly, Gehenna oriented her prow toward the sun and the great ship moved inward.

  A few hours later, Gehenna hovered over the planet. It had an atmosphere, mostly oxygen and nitrogen. It had oceans and continents, birds and fish and a hundred-thousand or more animal species that bore no resemblance to any Earthly life.

  Nothing man-made. Nothing that bore the stamp of intelligence. Nothing to indicate that humanity had ever strayed this far.

  Michael, sitting in the command chair, sighed.

  “An energ
y signature has become apparent,” Romulus said.

  “What a surprise,” Michael muttered.

  After their narrow escape at Akadius, Michael had asked Arlo Scott and his team to try to invent a detector for screened ships. It turned out to be easier than expected. Visual screening operated by bending light around the screened object. Far above the visual spectrum, there was almost always a miniscule amount of distortion, which could be detected as a very faint energy emission. The First Empire had never searched for such a thing, presumably because nobody but themselves had possessed visual screening.

  “Approximately one hundred objects have just emerged from behind the sun and are moving in this direction.”

  “Thank you, Romulus.”

  A stream of numbers scrolled across the nearest monitor. Beneath his feet, Michael felt the tiniest vibration.

  “Our forward momentum appears to have ceased,” Romulus said. “Something is impeding our progress.”

  Something, Michael thought. Good old something. “And what would that something be?”

  “The ship is being held in place by a tractor beam.”

  “Can we escape?”

  Romulus voice hesitated. “It appears not.”

  No, Michael thought. Of course, we cannot escape.

  “And where is this tractor beam coming from?”

  “From the planet below.”

  He counted down in his head. Three, two one…

  The monitor screen lit. A face appeared. It was male and smiling. The face looked around the enormous room and fixed its eyes on Michael.

  “Hello, Michael,” it said.

  Michael sighed. “Roderick,” he said. “Roderick Allen.” He shook his head. “I might have known.”

  Chapter 27

  “Are you surprised?”

  “A little,” Michael said.

  “Only a little?” The face grinned.