Last of the Treasure Hunters

by Warren Dean

  This meant that the drone would have to find a portal almost directly in its path in order to be able to return to the Repository with its message. Within the next few minutes its scanners detected several open portals, but none were within its limited range. Unable to make headway towards any of them, it hurtled by, helpless to do anything but monitor them as they were shredded by gravity.

  Well aware of the fact that it did not have the drive, nor the fuel reserves, to complete another orbit and re-enter the target quadrant in time, the drone sought an alternative solution. Reviewing the directive, it noted that the imperative was for the data to get through, not the messenger.

  With no concept of the emotive aspects of sacrifice or expendability, Seeker widened its scan parameters. No longer concerned with locating a portal close enough to enter, it sought one within transmission range.

  Seconds later, two suitable portals blinked into existence. Without hesitation, the little drone transmitted the message through both of them. The portals winked out as fast as they had appeared.

  Its directive fulfilled, Seeker terminated the operation. Its momentum carried it beyond the target quadrant and it began another orbit of the black hole. Its drive system in tatters and its fuel reserves almost spent, it did not have the means to return to normal space as it had done twice before.

  Soon its orbit would begin to deteriorate – correction; had already begun to deteriorate – as Sagittarius A's gravity captured the little drone once again.

  Without fear or regret, Seeker spiralled inwards one last time.

  FOUR MONTHS ON

  The hardest thing for Connor was not knowing. Not knowing whether Seeker was capable of surviving such a protracted period within the black hole. Not knowing whether the drone would be able to re-emerge at the right time. Not knowing if the message it was carrying would get through. Not knowing if any of it would make any difference.

  He didn't know how long it would take before any changes took effect, or even whether he would retain a memory of what it had been like before. Azee thought it a distinct possibility that they would simply wake up one day unaware of the fact that things were different. Even if Earth was made whole again, as the three of them fervently hoped, they might not remember a time when it hadn't been.

  He and Christina had recorded a message to themselves, summarising events and outlining what they hoped Seeker's latest sojourn would achieve. Then they programmed the Repository to play it back to them at regular intervals.

  Azee suggested that they were wasting their time. She reasoned that, if the drone's mission altered history so fundamentally that Earth was never destroyed, then there would have been no motive for them to record the message. If that was true, countered Connor, then they would have had no reason to send the drone on its rescue mission in the first place.

  The conundrum got him thinking about how far things might unravel if Seeker successfully prevented Earth's demise. If a message made it back to the Repository in 2054 revealing Sagittarius A as the source of the gold-bearing meteors, would that alone have been enough to stop the Constructors from proceeding with the mining of Earth? He was certain that it would; the Journeyman would surely have insisted that the Constructors honour the bargain he had made with the Nerds.

  If the drones never returned to Earth, there would be no catastrophic conflict. And, as long as his fellow Earthlings hadn't contrived to blow themselves up in some other way – a big IF, he had to concede – then Earth should stay in one piece.

  But if Earth was intact at the time he and Christina returned from the black hole, what reason would they have had to remain at the Repository? Chances are they would have gone home after a period of recovery. They would not have spent time with Azee, would not have been desperate to save Earth, and would not have come up with the idea of sending Seeker back in time via the black hole.

  So where would they be when any changes occurred? Would they find themselves at the Repository with their memories of the past four months intact? Or would they wake up one morning back in Dublin, or Seville, with no idea how they got there?

  Even more disconcerting was the possibility that they could end up existing in two places at once; one version of themselves on Earth and the other at the Repository. Would it be possible for their current selves to go back to a restored Earth and meet the other version? Or would their current selves suddenly pop out of existence?

  The possible paradoxes made his head spin and, after a while, he decided to stop worrying about it. He and Christina were in agreement that what happened to the two of them was relatively unimportant. What was important was the restoration of Earth and its billions; among them his parents, his brothers, and everyone else he knew. They would all be long dead after five hundred years but at least they would have had the opportunity to live out their lives in peace and prosperity.

  All he had to do was believe in the abilities of a piece of alien machinery the size of an overgrown beach ball. Seeker had taken on one of the biggest black holes in the known universe and survived – twice. Asking it to do so a third time was pushing its luck but the risk was worth it. It was just a machine after all, completely expendable in the greater scheme of things.

  Still, he would hate it if Seeker came to a sticky end. When he thought about the role its exploits had played in the outrageous fortunes of his family, he couldn't help but marvel. It had created the diamond map, unwittingly setting off the chain of events which had culminated in his parents' extraordinary discoveries and the riches they had accumulated as a result. It was also a cog in the Constructors' galactic mining operation and its survey of Earth and Mars was indirectly responsible for the conflict which had destroyed humanity.

  Later on the little drone had saved his life, and that of Christina, rescuing the two of them from a horrible end and bringing them back to the Repository in the face of seemingly impossible odds. At the same time, it had solved the mystery that had puzzled generations of Constructors, which might make possible the continued survival of the most advanced race of the Thousand Systems.

  And its story wasn't finished yet, he hoped. If it was able to carry out its latest task successfully, Seeker would end up saving them all.

  When he first touted the idea of sending the drone back into the black hole, Azee had been sceptical. While theoretically sound, she mused, the logistics of the mission would be very difficult to get right. She had embraced the idea eventually, though, and put her prolific talent for research to the test.

  Thankfully, the Journeyman was on hand to help with the complicated mathematics required to ensure that Seeker re-emerged at the right time and place. For his part, the Constructor expressed reservations about the drone's ability to resist the forces of the black hole for such a long period of time, but he stopped short of vetoing the project. As far as he was concerned, Azee was running the Repository now and it was her call.

  Once everything had been checked and re-checked, Azee had elected to express the new mission directive very simply. There was no way she could anticipate every challenge the drone might encounter, so instead of trying to design protocols to cover every conceivable situation, she left the drone a large degree of interpretative latitude. It had shown itself to be remarkably good at adapting standard instructions to suit the vagaries of random events, particularly in the way in which it had rescued Connor and Christina.

  As the months went by, Connor realised that sitting and brooding about the uncertainty of it all was unproductive to say the least. He and Christina discussed returning to Aquasolis, but neither of them was in a hurry to do so. For him, the City of the Bay was a fascinating place to visit, but it would take time for him to get used to its alien habitats, cultures, and architecture. As for Christina, she said that she felt responsible for Xzaroth's sacrifice, and for Elexzath's loss, which made returning to her old home too painful to contemplate.

  So he and Christina immersed themselves in life at the Repository. The reality was that it was quite lik
ely that they would never hear from Seeker again and it made sense for them to make the best of the place that was now their home. With the help of the spider-'bots, they converted one of the dormitories into an apartment, complete with a private jacks and a cosy food preparation area that was more kitchen than refectory.

  Azee was delighted to have human company again, not to mention two new assistants, and threw herself whole-heartedly into teaching them as much as they could cram into their heads. What they were able to learn wasn't much by her prodigious standards but by theirs it was an ocean of new knowledge. To keep their heads from exploding, each of them found a niche to focus on.

  Connor's was the unexpectedly dynamic world of the artefact stores. He knew something about them from the search for Seeker but what he hadn't realised was that they weren't merely inert collections of intergalactic jumble. Although the Repository had been all but abandoned by the Constructors – for hundreds of cycles only the Journeyman had laboured to keep it running – the civilisations of the Thousand Systems continued to value it as a resource of unparalleled importance. Most users accessed it remotely; through 'hives on their own planets connected to the Repository by portal.

  Users also took their responsibility to add to the Repository very seriously and regularly sent in all manner of items. The sheer volume of submissions had long ago necessitated the automation of the reception process. Most objects were returned to sender as having no abstract value. Of those that were retained, only particularly remarkable ones were brought to the immediate attention of the Journeyman. The rest were catalogued and stored for later study but neither the Journeyman nor Azee ever had much time to evaluate them.

  Thanks to his father's occupation, determining the intrinsic worth of exotic things was something that Connor had some experience with. He began by visiting as many of the stores as he could, familiarising himself with the way in which their contents were arranged and catalogued. Then he spent hours, sometimes days, combing the recesses of various stores for artefacts he thought merited further attention.

  There were literally thousands of them scattered across the planet though, so he was barely scratching the surface, but the process of seeking out, finding, and examining the treasures of the universe was endlessly fascinating. His only regret was that his father wasn't around to do it with him. Patrick would have loved the task even more than Connor did. And it was rewarding to know that every piece he processed enhanced the Repository in some small way.

  The niche that Christina gravitated towards was more of a calling than an occupation. She appointed herself unofficial assistant to the Journeyman, helping him with his research or his ailments, whichever need was the greater at any given time.

  For her part, Azee was grateful for their help with responsibilities she had little time for.

  Together, the last three humans in the universe settled into a routine of relative contentment. In the late evenings, Azee would stop by Connor and Christina's apartment for breakfast. A spatula-wielding Connor would whip up pancakes or scrambled eggs while they discussed what each of them was planning for the night. Then they would go their separate ways, always meeting back at the little apartment at dawn, where they would spend a pleasant hour or two sharing another meal and reporting on their successes and failures.

  Occasionally, one of them would ask for help, like the day Christina was worried about the Journeyman's health having taken a significant turn for the worse.

  "He barely touches the food I prepare for him and I think he's losing weight," she said with a worried frown on her face. "It's hard to tell, though, with all the cybernetic parts."

  "I can't come today," replied Azee. She was in the middle of constructing a behavioural algorithm which required her undivided attention. She hoped it might give the tribes on Earth an evolutionary leg up out of the mire into which they had collectively sunk. "My calculations are at a critical point and I can't lose focus. I can send a med-'bot with you if you like?"

  "Yes, thanks," said Christina, a little crestfallen.

  "I'll come with you," said Connor. "The bits and pieces I was planning to classify can wait."

  After they had finished breakfast, Azee summoned a 'bot from the medical bay and, once it had arrived, Connor and Christina headed for the Constructor's private chambers. Connor had never been there before and he followed Christina down the ramps and stairways which led from the dormitory complex into the City of Shapes. The med-'bot trailed them on skittering legs.

  On the way, they stopped at an alcove to collect two pairs of gel eyeshades from an applicator, putting them on like spectacles as protection from the luminescence of the city.

  He usually travelled by portal to and from the various artefact stores and seldom took the opportunity to explore the city's gigantic avenues of transparent shapes. He found himself enjoying the walk beneath the many-angled planes and curves, all competing with each other to see which could project the most fantastic kaleidoscopes of prismatic light and colour.

  As Christina led him unerringly through a maze of corridors and intersections, he tried not to think about the subject of their visit. It was sad to see how the Journeyman's regrets and failures, both real and imagined, had leached the vigour from his body and the vitality from his intellect. A multitude of cybernetic enhancements reflected the demise of his once resolute determination to resist the ravages of time on his physique. His voice, reduced from a roar of almost tangible force to a reedy crackle, now matched eyes which had shrunk from glowing amber orbs to rheumy yellow smudges.

  He was a shambling shadow of the giant he had once been and, for that reason, Connor had largely avoided him since returning to the Repository.

  Lost in thought as he and Christina rounded a bend and entered the anteroom to the Journeyman's chambers, something nagged at his attention. A faint sound like bees buzzing, he thought at first. There was something familiar about it, although he couldn't think what it was.

  "Do you hear that?" he asked Christina, cocking his head to try to get a bearing on where the sound was coming from.

  "Hear what?" she asked. She too was distracted, more concerned about the purpose of their visit than what he was saying.

  They were almost at the other end of the anteroom when Connor glanced behind him and frowned; he couldn't see the 'bot anywhere.

  "What happened to the med-'bot?" he asked.

  Christina stopped and looked around. "I don't know," she said in surprise. "It was with us a minute ago."

  He walked back to the access corridor and looked back the way they had come. "It's not there," he reported, returning to where she waited. "Maybe it broke down somewhere along the way and we didn't notice."

  "It's possible," she replied, "although I've never seen a 'bot break down before."

  "Shall I go back and look for it?"

  "No, let's check on the Journeyman first. We can always ask Azee to send another one."

  She led him through a tall doorway into a gigantic chamber. The massive room was fitted with darkened ceilings which let in less light than the rest of the city and, at first, Connor couldn't see much in the gloom. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was filled with huge tables, benches, and shelves. The table-tops were at about head height – waist height if one was a Constructor – and he had to stand on tiptoes to see the assortment of unfamiliar artefacts and arcane instruments which cluttered their surfaces. Shelving along some of the walls towered almost to the ceiling and looked alarmingly top heavy. He resolved not to go too close to any of them.

  At intervals along the walls were alcoves of various shapes and sizes. Some of them served as reading niches, comfortably appointed with rugs, bookshelves, and soft chairs. Others harboured washing and refreshment facilities.

  If he had to guess at the size of the room, he would say it was as big as half a football field.

  When Christina noticed him peering around short-sightedly, she reached towards his face and took off his shades.

  "Ah, t
hat's better," he said, giving her a sheepish grin. "I'd forgotten I was wearing those."

  "Come on," she said, "let's find him. He must be in his sleeping chamber."

  Connor followed her as she began navigating her way familiarly through the warren of outsized furniture. They were more than halfway across the room when a figure appeared in the shadows of a recessed doorway on the far side.

  "There you are," boomed a massive voice. "I didn't expect you here this early."

  The Journeyman stepped out of the recess and into the light of the workroom.

  Christina stopped dead in her tracks and Connor nearly barged into her. Both of them stared at the giant in amazement. In place of the ailing cyborg they had expected to see stood the Journeyman much as he had been before their voyage into the black hole.

  His back was straight, his shoulders were back, and his arms rippled with muscle. He moved with graceful ease on legs the size of tree trunks. His eyes were clear and bright, shining with intelligence, and there was no sign of any cybernetic enhancements or crippling ailments.

  Both Connor and Christina were so thunderstruck they stood and gaped at him, speechless.

  The buzzing noise Connor had noticed earlier returned, louder now, and he continued to ignore it, trying instead to make some sense of the surreal spectacle in front of him.

  "Que pasa?" whispered Christina. "How is this possible?"

  The Journeyman came a few strides closer and studied their faces. "Ahh, I see from your expressions that you have not yet noticed the shift," he said.

  The shift? Connor was about to ask him what he meant when, in a flash of clarity, he suddenly understood what was going on: the disappearance of the med-'bot, the buzzing sound, and the Journeyman's miraculous revitalisation.

  "Christina," he said breathlessly. "That noise I heard earlier, it isn't a noise at all."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "It's a mindmeld."

  She dragged her gaze away from the rejuvenated Constructor and her expression went distant as she concentrated inwards. A moment later she looked up at him with wide eyes. "So many people," she whispered. "Where did they all come from? Who are they?"