Spindrift (58 page)

“Happy to see you, too.” Ramirez noticed that Harker wore a robe identical to his own; its patterns took on a warm orange hue as
Galileo
's first officer dropped the book on a table and rushed toward him. “Don't know why you're so surprised. Sinclair…I mean, the holo they made of Sinclair…told me you and Emily were here, too, so…”

“You saw Sinclair?” Harker stopped short. “They sent Cole…or something like Cole…to see me.”

“Yeah, I saw him. He's right over…” Ramirez turned around, only to discover that Sinclair's image had vanished and the hatch had shut. “Well, he was a second ago,” he murmured. “Guess they're shy about two of us seeing their puppets at the same time.”

“Either that, or they didn't want us to compare notes.” A grim smile appeared on Harker's face. “I knew he…or it, whatever…couldn't be Sir Peter the moment he opened his mouth. Not arrogant enough.”

“Can't blame them for trying. They only had faces and voices to work with.” Ramirez gazed around the room. “So this is where they've been keeping you? I woke up in the hibernation deck. Close copy, but they missed a few details.”

“You noticed that, too, eh?” Harker walked over to the table, picked up the book he'd been examining. Holding it up by the spine, he shook it a few times. The covers remained shut, its pages unruffled; the book was a solid object. “Guess the
hjadd
have never seen a book before. They only knew how to duplicate its appearance.”

“The tip-off for me was the biostasis tank I woke up in. Too clean to be real.” Ramirez strode over to the nonfunctional fireplace. “Been here long?”

“A couple of hours or so. I came to on that couch.” Harker pointed across the room to the one within the study alcove. “Thought I was dreaming, at least until Cole showed up and began to ask questions.” Another smile, which quickly vanished. “Same interrogation? About our mission, and what we were doing on Spindrift? Or perhaps we should call it
Shaq-Taaraq
.”

“That seems to be what they…”

A door on the opposite side of the library opened, and they both looked around to see Emily cautiously enter the room, also wearing one of the patterned white cloaks. She halted just inside the door, staring around herself in apparent disbelief, until her gaze fell upon them.

“Oh, thank God!” she yelped, then raced across the library to throw herself into Harker's arms. “I never thought…Ted, you're alive!”

“It's all right. I'm here.” Harker held her close, stroking her hair, whispering into her ear. Embarrassed, Ramirez turned his face away. As much as he once fantasized about having Emily, once again it was clear to whom she belonged. At least he should be grateful that the three of them were still among the living.

“Let me guess,” he said, after giving the couple a few moments to themselves. “You woke up somewhere aboard
Galileo
and found someone waiting to ask a few questions.”

“You, too?” Emily peeled herself apart from Harker. “I was in the command deck, all by myself except for Toni.” Her face went pale, and she clutched Ted's hand as tears came to her eyes. “It was horrid. She showed me what happened…everything, right up to the point where we…our people, I mean…launched the nuke at her…I mean, their ship. And then…”

“Questions.” Ramirez turned toward her. “She told you that if you didn't tell the truth and nothing but the truth, then this”—he plucked at the sleeve of his
sha
—“would expose you as a liar, and the rest of us would die. Right?”

Emily slowly nodded as she pulled Harker close again. “That's the way it happened with me, too,” Harker said. “Guess we all received the same treatment, only with a few variations.” He shook his head. “Awful lot of trouble to go through, just to make sure we'd be honest.”

“Never been arrested, have you?” Ramirez couldn't help but chuckle. “Standard procedure…separate your suspects, tell 'em they'll get the death penalty if they don't talk, then wait to see who sings first and if their stories match.” He sauntered over to the fireplace, idly inspected the pewter model of the
Galileo
upon its mantel. “Suppose we must have passed the test, or they wouldn't have allowed us to get together.”

“You are correct,” Lawrence said.

Ramirez looked around at the same moment as the others. The image of Ian Lawrence stood behind them, shoulders straight and hands at his sides, wearing his dress uniform. The dead captain didn't look at any one of them, but instead stared directly ahead.

“You have done well,” Lawrence said. “My kind appreciates your cooperation, as does the
Talus
. Now the time has come for us to reciprocate your candor.” He gestured toward the nearby chairs. “Be seated, please, and pay close attention. Here is the reason you have been brought to this place and why this encounter is important to the future of your kind.”

UNKNOWN

“F
irst things first.” Harker remained standing after Emily and Ramirez took their seats near the fireplace. “You said our questions would be answered. Well, then…where are we? Why are we here? How long have we been asleep?”

“All this in good time, Mr. Harker…or do you prefer to be addressed as Commander?” Lawrence's image gestured toward the remaining armchair. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He nodded toward a side table, where a pewter decanter and three crystal glasses had been placed. “There is water, if you so desire. We are still uncertain of what sort of food you consider palatable, however, so…”

“I'm not hungry, and I've had it with your pretensions.” Harker's voice rose. “Are you going to tell us, or…”

“Ted.” Emily reached up to grasp his hand. “Calm down, please.” She looked at the front of his robe. “Your
sha
…”

Harker glanced down at himself. The patterns of his garment had become dark red. She'd apparently discovered the same thing that he had; the
sha
detected emotions as subtle changes in electrodermal response, the ability of the skin to conduct electricity, and displayed them as subtle alterations in the robe's colors. It wasn't difficult to guess that this color scheme indicated anger and frustration.

Emcee's right
, he thought.
You're in no position to be picking a fight.
Slowly letting out his breath, Harker consciously forced himself to cool off; the patterns gradually faded to neutral grey. “Sorry,” he said, looking up at the holo again. “Didn't mean to lose my temper like that. But you've told us nothing of what we should know…what we need to know…and I think it's time for you to be as honest with us as we've been with you.”

Ramirez nodded. “I have to agree,” he said quietly. “If this is as important as you say, then perhaps you should start by telling us what Ted…Commander Harker…wants to know.”

For a few seconds, Lawrence's ghost didn't respond. Again, Harker had the impression that something was going on that he couldn't see or hear, as if the holo was little more than a projection manipulated by intelligences as yet unseen. “Very well,” it said at last. “Since this is obviously of great importance to you, we shall comply.” Turning toward the alcove, it pointed toward its window. “Look there, and you'll see where you are.”

 

Harker walked toward the alcove, with Emily and Ramirez rising from their seats to follow him. He stopped, feeling his breath catch. Beyond the mullioned panes of glass lay the darkness of outer space, black as night and speckled by distant stars, save for one that shone nearly as bright as the Sun as seen from Earth's orbit.

Yet that wasn't what caught his attention. In the foreground, stretched out before them, was an immense structure that, at first glance, resembled a magnified image of a snowflake, or perhaps a three-dimensional model of a complex molecule. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of forms of all shapes and sizes, some larger than others, connected to one another by a weblike network of threads that seemed flimsy until Harker realized that they were giant cables. Alien spacecraft, many of them larger than
Galileo
yet reduced to the size of insects, floated in and around the spars. A space colony, yet one more vast than anything he'd ever imagined possible. Perhaps several hundred kilometers or more in diameter, the largest orbital station yet built by humans would have been little more than one module among countless others.

“This is
Talus qua'spah
,” Lawrence said. “In Anglo, the closest approximation would be ‘House of the Talus'.”

“Some house.” Harker stared at it in astonishment. “And this isn't…I mean, this isn't another illusion?”

“Only so far as you're seeing a projection of something that lies just a few meters beyond the walls of this room.” Lawrence's image vanished from behind him, reappeared an instant later beside the window. It pointed toward the nearby star. “This is what your race refers to as HD 143761, also known as Rho Coronae Borealis. A G0V-class star, of slightly lower magnitude than your own sun…”

“I know it.” Ramirez moved closer to Harker, stared at it over his shoulder. “Located in the Corona Borealis constellation, what we call the Northern Crown. We…I mean, our telescopes…detected terrestrial-size planets there some years ago, but we…”

His voice trailed off. Harker looked at him sharply. “But what?”

Ramirez's face went pale. For a moment, he groped for words. “It's fifty-four light-years from Earth,” he whispered.

“Fifty-four-point-four, to be exact.” Lawrence's ghost dropped its hands to its sides. “Farther than anyone else of your race has yet ventured.”

Harker felt his legs become weak. Turning away from the window, he staggered to the nearest chair, eased himself into it. “What year is this?” he rasped.

“By your calendar, this is the year 2344.” Lawrence remained as placid as before. “Fifty-three years have elapsed since we found you on
Shaq-Taaraq
.” He paused for a moment, then went on. “Are you ready to listen now?”

Harker needed a drink. He would have preferred a stiff shot of whiskey, but water would have to do. Trying to ignore the way his hand trembled, he picked up the decanter and poured a glass for himself. The water was tepid, almost lukewarm—apparently the
hjadd
were unaware that humans preferred to drink it cold—but it helped soothe his parched throat. Lawrence patiently waited until everyone returned to their seats by the fireplace, then continued.

“To begin,” it said, standing before the hearth, hands at its sides, “you must understand that our galaxy is inhabited by many races. Most are separated from one another by vast distances and therefore never meet, even if they suspect the existence of others. Until now, this has probably been the situation with your own kind.”

“It is,” Ramirez said. “We…”

“Please, allow me to continue.” The holo raised a hand, and Ramirez went silent. “However, upon rare occasions, a race develops the ability to not only leave its own world, but eventually to leave its native system. Even then, however, the chances that they will encounter another intelligent species are remote. Inhabitable worlds are difficult to find, and even more difficult to reach. There are races that mastered interstellar travel quite some time ago and have yet to make contact with another species.”

As Lawrence's ghost spoke, a cylindrical shaft of light glowed to life within the circle formed by their chairs. Translucent, tinted a pale shade of blue, it quickly took shape and form, until Harker found himself gazing at a three-dimensional image of the Milky Way. As it slowly rotated, small sparks flashed here and there among its billions of stars, glowing more brightly than the countless suns around them.

“And yet, despite the odds, a spacefaring race will sometimes take the next step, and reinvent that which only a small handful of like-minded races have invented before…the ability to construct what you call starbridges, devices that allow their vessels to leap through hyperspace from one portal to another.”

“Did you say, ‘reinvent?'” Now it was Harker's turn to interrupt. “Does that mean…?”

“The way by which this is accomplished is always the same, yes.” Lawrence nodded. “A wheel is always a wheel, no matter who makes it…and every tool-making society eventually finds a reason to do this, even if its initial purpose isn't always identical. By much the same token, hyperspace travel by means of artificial wormholes is something that has been accomplished time and again.”

He pointed to the sparks floating within the holo of the galaxy. “These star systems are those whose dominant species have developed starbridges. Because they have done so, their chances of encountering other intelligent species greatly increased…and when they do, they eventually meet the
Talus
.”

Lawrence glided forward, stepping into the light shaft until its image melded with that of the galaxy. “Again, there is no literal translation for this word into Anglo or any other human language.
Association, union, society, federation, conglomerate
…none of them adequately describe that which we…”

“The galactic club,” Ramirez said softly.

“Hush.” Once again, Harker found himself annoyed by Ramirez's presumptuous attitude. “Let him…”

“No.” Lawrence turned toward Ramirez; as it did, the galaxy faded from view. “Let him speak. You know of this, Dr. Ramirez?”

For a moment, Ramirez seemed mildly surprised, like a lazy student whose lucky guess was the correct answer to a professor's question. “There's a theory,” he said, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, “that goes back a couple of centuries, when our kind began to speculate whether intelligent life existed in the galaxy. The hypothesis was that alien races, once they became aware of one another, would eventually form a loose alliance…a club, really…into which they'd invite other races if they met certain criteria. Ability to communicate with one another, ability to travel, so on and so forth.” He hesitated. “Is that was the
Talus
is? The galactic club?”

“More or less, yes.” As before, Lawrence's image displayed no emotion, yet its voice seemed to express approval. “The
Talus
is a…club, if you wish to call it that…of starfaring races that have chosen to associate with one another. We engage in trade, cultural exchanges, the sharing of information, and so forth, all for peaceful purposes. Otherwise, we leave one another alone. We do not interfere with each other's internal politics or waste energy on conquest. By much the same token, neither do we attempt to bring new starfaring races into our fold.”

“You don't find us,” Harker said. “We find you.”

“This is one way of expressing it…but yes, that is frequently how it happens.”

Emily shifted in her chair. “So when we discovered Spindrift,” she said, speaking up for the first time, “that's when we found you. The
hjadd
, I mean…and also the
Talus
.”

Once more, Lawrence became silent. Harker glanced over at Emily, raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged; she didn't know what she'd said either. He looked at Ramirez, but he seemed at a loss as well; his left knee jiggled nervously as he waited for a response.

“No,” the holo said at last, “you still don't understand.”

“Understand what?” Harker asked. “Come on, now. You've brought us this far…what is it about you that you don't want us to know?” Despite his intent to remain calm, he found himself becoming annoyed. “Look, we've seen the inside of Spindrift or
Shaq
…
Shaq
-whatever…so there's not much more you can't tell us about you that we haven't already seen for ourselves.”

“You proceed from a false assumption.” Lawrence stared back at him. “You believe we're the ones who built
Shaq-Taaraq
.”

“But…” Baffled, Harker shook his head. “If you didn't, then who…?”

“Listen, and understand.”

 

Again, the iridescent column appeared. As they watched, another image materialized within it: a spiral-shaped object floating in space, with distant stars visible in the background.

At first, Harker couldn't tell what it was. He thought it might be a globular cluster, perhaps a protostar, until he realized that it was far more complex than either. A brilliant white orb, vaguely resembling a dwarf star, lay within the center of a dense, nebula-like whorl of cosmic dust—magenta, purple, burnt orange—that encircled the nucleus as if it were a vast whirlpool. Yet at the center of the nucleus, barely visible from this angle, was a small black spot, out of which vertical plumes of dense plasma rose from both top and bottom. A thing of great beauty, yet also strangely menacing.

“What is it?” Standing up from her chair, Emily stepped closer to examine the projection. “It's incredible.”

“Yes, it is. Many have doubtless thought so, in their last moments of existence.” The dead captain slowly walked around the hologram, gazing into its depths. “The races of the Talus have many names for it.
Hu'Mok
…
Twarog
…
Kasimasta
…others that you couldn't easily pronounce. Yet they all mean the same thing…the Annihilator.”

“A black hole.” At last, Harker realized what it was. “It's a black hole.” An unimpressed shrug. “So? We've known about them for quite a while, although”—he gestured toward the projection—“this is the best image of one I've ever seen.”

Lawrence turned to regard him with what might have been condescension. “As much as your kind believes it knows about the universe, believe us when we tell you that your ignorance is far greater than your knowledge. Yes, this is a black hole…in much the same way that you are a highly advanced simian.”