Dream Called Time (13 page)

I watched Fasala Torin come up behind Marel, put an arm around her, and reach toward the console. The signal terminated and my screen went blank.

I got up and went to the viewport to stare out at space. I didn’t know how long I stood there, my eyes filled with stars and tears; I couldn’t think straight. Marel’s pleading words echoed in my mind, over and over in a torturous loop.

. . . You left without saying good-bye. . . . Now you don’t have us and we don’t have anyone. . . . Daddy and I need you here. . . .

I slid down the hull wall until I sat on the deck and huddled with my arms around my legs and my forehead pressed to my knees. Whatever Reever and I had done to each other, Marel didn’t deserve to pay for it. At the same time, I knew she would have to.

Although I loved my child, and would do anything to prevent her from suffering, I couldn’t do as she had begged me to. I couldn’t go back to Joren and pretend, not even for her sake, that everything was fine between me and her father. Reever might be the best liar in the universe, but I wasn’t. Every moment I spent with him, I’d be replaying in my head that surveillance vid of him with Jarn. I’d hear all those lovely, terrible things he’d said to her. I’d see the flare of passion between them as they made love. And until the end of my days, I’d see the look on his face when I’d woken up in my body and he’d realized who I wasn’t.

Marel had lost a mother she had dearly loved, and Duncan had lost his lover, but I’d lost both of them.

There would be no going back for any of us.

Two days of making trips to the derelict ship and studying the protocrystal that held the crew in stasis should have produced some definitive information about the rift, the ship, and why both had showed up in our time. But on the third day, at a briefing Xonea insisted we broadcast over interplanetary to both Joren and Vtaga, I had very few answers to offer.

“At present, we know that the ship came from the very distant past,” I said as I displayed on the room monitors the readings that had been collected from the derelict. “Minimal life signs indicate that the crew is still alive, although we have been unable to determine a safe method of extracting them from the crystal matrix that holds them in stasis.”

“Is it entirely necessary to rouse the crew?” TssVar asked.

“If you want some real answers, it is.” I turned toward the monitor where his image was displayed. “These people traveled six million years to get here, Hanar. We have to assume they had an important mission, or at least an extremely good reason to attempt such an epic jump.”

“Can we send the ship back into the rift?” Xonea asked.

My brows rose. “We could, theoretically. Why would we want to?”

“Perhaps they never meant to come here,” the captain pointed out. “They may have become trapped in the rift during a routine jaunt and were transported here against their wishes.”

“That would be a viable scenario,” I agreed, “if every member of the crew had not placed themselves in stasis before entering the rift.”

“What makes you believe they did so?” one of the council members asked.

“We’ve analyzed the stasis tanks thoroughly.” I brought up a holoimage of one of them. “I can’t tell you how they are able to function, but there are a few things we know about them. The control panels at the base of the capsules appear to be dedicated monitors that measure the occupant’s vital signs; the readings that are displayed match those of our instruments. There also seems to be some sort of connection between the panels and some of the consoles located in a section of the ship our engineers had dubbed the helm.”

“The ship controls the stasis chambers?”

“I believe that the controls for the tanks are located inside them, here.” I pointed to the wide belt around the floating figure. “From the design, it appears that the crew first climbed into the tanks, and then initiated stasis.”

“That cannot be the case. There must be an automated control system outside the tanks,” TssVar argued. “Once in stasis, they could not release themselves.”

“We should bring this ship to Joren,” one of the council members suggested. “HouseClan Zamlon has some of the finest engineers in the quadrant. The vessel can be kept safely in their shipyards while it is examined.”

“The ship is funneling power into all of its systems directly from the rift,” Shon said. “If we attempt to relocate the ship, it will lose its power source.”

“As the stasis chambers are dependent on that power,” I added, “I can almost guarantee disconnecting it will kill the crew.”

The chief engineer gestured, and after Xonea nodded to him, he stood. “My department has been working with several pilots during our analysis of the ship. As yet we have been unable to gain access to its database or computer systems, assuming it possesses such technology, but several of the pilots involved have recognized certain features of the star charts that appear at regular intervals on the interior walls.” He indicated the imager console. “If I may?”

The captain inclined his head, and the chief brought up a holoimage of two star charts. “The image on the right is from the
Sunlace
’s chart archives. It displays the position of all inhabited star systems throughout our galaxy. The image on the left was scanned from one of the display walls inside the derelict. It is also an image of our galaxy, as you can see.” He merged the two charts together, superimposing the stars.

“You are in error, Chief,” someone murmured. “Most of the stars have moved, and many are gone.”

“This was also our first conclusion, until we identified the star systems that had disappeared. Each possesses a star coming to the end of its life span.” He removed the chart showing our galaxy and left up the one scanned from the ship. “According to database projections, this chart shows what our galaxy will look like in ten million years.”

Xonea gave him a sharp look. “Think you they intended to journey sixteen million years into the future?”

“I cannot say for certain.” He made an uneasy gesture. “But why would they project the decay of stars in such a fashion if it were not their destination?”

“Then what are they doing here?” one of the Hsktskt delegates asked.

“Something must have gone wrong,” I said. “Something pulled them off course in the middle of their jump, and they landed here instead, in the wrong time.”

“The rift may have formed in their jump path and caused the disruption,” another engineer put in.

Shon shook his head. “The ship draws its power directly from the rift. It came with the ship through time. It may even be their method of propulsion.”

There was a great deal of debate after that, and as I sat beside Shon and listened, the oKiaf leaned toward me.

“You did not share your findings on the nature of the stasis matrix,” he murmured.

“I didn’t tell them you were a touch-healer who can cure any injury or illness, either,” I whispered back. “Should I volunteer that little fact?”

He made an amused sound. “We will have to destroy the sample.”

“I don’t think it can be destroyed,” I replied. “I was thinking more along the lines of injecting it back into the tank.” I caught Xonea frowning at us. “Let’s talk about this later, shall we?”

After another hour of discussion, the captain finally gestured for silence. “We must decide now how to proceed. The ship’s technology may take months or even years for us to understand; we may never be able to gain control of it. The rift is unstable and could collapse at any time. Healer Torin had theorized that moving the derelict away from it may threaten the lives of the crew, who are at our mercy. Council members, Hanar, based on what little information we have, I advise we send the ship back into the rift, in hopes that it will return them to their point of departure.”

“Without ever knowing who they are, and what their mission is?” TssVar bristled with disapproval. “If their intentions were not benign, we would be sacrificing a valuable opportunity to protect our territories. No, I say we should take this vessel. We should tow it into the gravitational field of the nearest star.”

I looked around the table, expecting to see plenty of horrified expressions. Most of the department chiefs instead looked thoughtful, as if his proposal had actual merit. “You can’t be serious.”

Xonea pretended he hadn’t heard me. “We cannot predict what the ship’s response would be, Hanar. It may possess systems to funnel energy from sources other than the rift. They may sense our actions and interpret them as a threat. Such an intervention could also trigger an awakening of the crew, who would doubtless respond. We have not yet identified any weapons systems, but it is unlikely they would undertake such a journey in a defenseless ship.”

“This ship could just as well be a scout, and the crew put in stasis as a lure,” TssVar countered. “Their technology may have already assessed ours and found it inferior. Sending it back could betray our weaknesses to an enemy. Who is to say that a fleet of warships is not on the other side of that rift, waiting to invade our time and conquer our worlds?”

“I can’t decide which is more breathtaking,” I said in the loudest voice I could manage. “The arrogance in this room, or the stupidity.”

One of the Hsktskt commanders rose out of his seat as he drew a blade. “No warm-blood will speak so to the supreme ruler in my presence.”

All the Jorenians present got to their feet, their dark blue claws ready as they looked toward Xonea, who had drawn the ceremonial seven-bladed sword he wore.

“I Shield the Hsktskt delegation,” I said quickly. Then, before anyone could react, I added, “I name the occupants of the derelict vessel as my blood kin.”

“They cannot be your kin,” Xonea snarled. “They come from a world six million years in the past.”

“They’re very distant kin.” I folded my arms. “Feel free to challenge my declaration if you like, Captain. All you really need is a DNA sample from one of them—and their permission to take it.”

“What does this mean?” the Hanar demanded.

“Healer Cherijo has claimed kinship with the crew of the derelict,” one of the council members said. “As such, they are to be protected by HouseClan Torin. Should harm be threatened or attempted against them, she may choose to declare ClanKill against the transgressor.”

“It means,” Xonea said through his teeth, “that we cannot destroy the ship or allow the crew to be harmed in any fashion.”

“I have never regretted outlawing the practice of slavery,” TssVar said as he stared down at me. “Until now.”

“You had your chance.” I turned to Xonea. “Assuming anything about this ship or this crew without more information is ridiculous, and you know it. Healer Valtas and I will put all of our efforts into reviving the crew, and then we will talk to them. Instead of imagining why they came here, tossing them back through an unstable rift, or shooting them into a star, we will behave like the civilized beings that we’re supposed to be and
ask
them to tell us why they’re here.”

A guard came into the room and went to have a hushed conversation with Xonea, who abruptly announced that the briefing was over. He then gestured to me and Shon.

“Think he’s going to throw us in the brig?” I said as we walked over.

The oKiaf chuffed out some air. “If he does, he will never get that DNA sample.”

Xonea finished issuing orders to the guard in rapid Jorenian before he turned to us. “There has been a problem in Medical Bay. One of the crew passing in the corridor noticed that it appeared empty. Upon entering, she found the air supply had been tampered with, and the entire staff had been rendered unconscious.” He caught my arm as I turned to run. “They are unharmed, Cherijo.”

“But why? Why knock out my staff?”

“To keep them from interfering,” Xonea said. “The entry to your lab was found standing open, and the sample of protocrystal you took from the derelict is gone.”

While Xonea and his men began searching through the ship for the thief, Shon and I returned to Medical to check on the staff. A few of the nurses had sustained bumps and bruises from the spills they took—the gas introduced into the air supply had been a powerful anesthetic, and had caused them to literally drop in their tracks—but no one had suffered any serious injuries.

“There was no warning,” the resident we’d left in charge during the briefing said as I scanned the bump on the back of his head. “We were reviewing medevac procedures when one of the nurses standing nearest to the air duct fell to the deck. We tried to leave before we were overcome, but the panels would not open.”

“Shon, tell Xonea to check the access log file for the entry panel to Medical. Whoever locked down the bay had to do it from the corridor.” After ensuring the resident didn’t have a concussion, I infused him with a mild analgesic and transferred him to a berth for observation, and then moved on to the next staffer waiting to be examined.

I didn’t worry about the lab until I had checked each and every one of the medical staff. I could have delegated the task to someone else, but I was taking this very personally. Whoever had attacked my people might not have done any permanent damage, but that was just sheer luck. If one of the residents had been running a surgical training simulation with the interns, someone could have fallen onto the imager—or, worse, an activated lascalpel.

After I finished the exams, I went to join Shon in the lab, where he was scanning the remains of the tank where we had been storing the stasis specimen. One side of the tank was gone; the others appeared partially melted.

“I found a suture laser discarded on the deck. He must have used it to cut out this panel,” the oKiaf told me, pointing to the missing section. “The beam setting was too high, which caused the damage to the other panels.”

“So it wasn’t anyone in Medical.” No one on my staff would use a suture laser so clumsily. “But why do all this just to steal the specimen? Whoever did it can’t take it off the ship. Even if he could somehow smuggle it off, it has no value to anyone but us.”

“Perhaps the thief intended only to take it from us.” He glanced over at the console. “Did you encrypt the last set of scans we performed?”