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Authors: Roger MacBride Allen

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BOOK: The Depths of Time
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That is-true,

Milos Vandar said at last, speaking quietly.

But what is true, and what people believe, are two very different things. I

d go so far as to say, what
people know
and what they believe are often two different things.


I

m—I

m sorry, Admiral Koffield,

Neshobe said.

From all I have ever read, and from all I have seen and heard here today, you are a man who did his duty and has suffered the torments of hell ever since as a consequence.


Yes,

Koffield said.

And neither you nor I nor anyone else can do the least thing about it. But—thank you, all the same.
I
killed Glister? Incredible.

Koffield shook his head again.

As regards the matter at hand—I must confess that, in spite of all the endless hours I have spent on this problem, the political angle never crossed my mind. I have lived in the military, where you give or take the orders and the orders are obeyed. But of course you are right. You cannot simply order the planet

s population to do as you say.


I
will
order them about, and I

ll make my orders stick, if it comes to that,

Neshobe said.

I will do whatever it takes to protect my people, even if I have to protect them against their will. But it will be worse for everyone if it comes to that. I would prefer to persuade them. To do that, I need more and better proof.


It

s a hell of a shame the copies of your final report didn

t get here,

Raenau said to Koffield.

Neshobe looked at Raenau thoughtfully. Was there perhaps a slight hint of doubt, of accusation, in his voice? If Raenau did not completely trust or believe Koffield

s information, that confirmed all her worries. If a hard-edged, rational, well-informed man like Raenau could not trust in Koffield completely, was there the slightest hope the general populace would?

If you can offer up any sort of plausible story for why I would stage this whole catastrophe, what possible motive I might have for pretending to have proof of an imaginary disaster, why I might go to the incredible lengths that would have been required to fake the proof I have offered, I

d be glad to hear it,

Koffield replied sharply, responding more to Raenau

s tone than his words.

What possible reason would I have for stranding myself one hundred and twenty-seven years away from everyone and everything I know?


Escape,

Raenau said, in a surprisingly gentle voice.

You yourself have just finished agreeing with us that your life back there was something close to a hell. You were a villain. Why not send a real-sounding advance message on the
Chrononaut VI,
put a heap of compressed scrap into a secured container, sabotage your own ship, and arrive a century and a quarter in the future as a hero, a savior, a visionary? It

s obvious that your ship was sabotaged in a very precise way, and obvious that your tamperproof secured container was somehow tampered with—or else the tampering was staged. We have only your word that there
was
a final report, or that it was ever in that container.


How dare you—

Koffield began, coming half out of his seat.


I do not say I believe any of this,

Raenau said in a firm, emphatic voice.

But you asked for a plausible story. I will not be the first, or last to think of it, or of many other variants. You could say the theory I

ve offered is impossible. So it is. But it

s plain that
something
implausible, something unlikely, has happened. I at least have offered a version of events, an explanation. You have not done so. You asked for a theory of how this could have happened. I have offered one.


If it

s a fraud, it

s one damned hell of a good one,

Vandar said.

I agree one preliminary report isn

t enough basis for deciding the fate of a planet, but this

—he patted the datapage that held his copy of the report—

is solid work. Good math, good science. It

s both self-consistent and consistent with the existing body of work. It

s more than that. It answers nagging questions, ties together loose ends.


Their being stranded in our time could have been staged, even if the report was not,

Raenau said.


Maybe that

s true, but so what?

Vandar asked.

We can test the report, check it, take it apart, put it together again. We don

t have to take the admiral

s word for any of it. We can go see for ourselves.


Great,

Raenau said.

You go do that. I

ll want to hear about it. But even Admiral Koffield has got to admit there

s a problem when it tells me a big long story about how he

s moved heaven and Earth to get a report to me— and it just so happens the only copy of the report we can get at has vanished mysteriously.


It

s not the only copy.

Neshobe had not heard the voice for so long that it took her a minute to realize who was speaking.

Officer Chandray? There

s another copy? Surely if you knew that, you should have spoken up before now.


There is,

Chandray said.

There must be.

She turned to Koffield.

You wouldn

t have traveled with the only copy. You would have made sure it was placed in the Grand Library, or the Permanent Physical Collection, or hidden with some trusted friend or another. Something. You probably did all of those things, and more.


I did,

Koffield said.

But, assuming those copies even survived this long, they are light-years from here, back in the Solar System. What good do they do us here?


None, unless someone goes to get them,

said Chandray. She turned to Neshobe.

You could send word back on the next timeshaft ship to Earth, and have a search performed.


I could, and I will,

said Neshobe.

But there are no timeshaft ships in-system—aside from the one you came in on.


When

s the next ship expected?

Chandray asked.


I

m afraid that

s something else that

s changed from your day,

said Parrige.

Timeshaft ships rarely call at Solace anymore. Trade has dried up.


That

s a polite way of saying we don

t have anything they want, and we can

t afford much of what they have,

Raenau growled.

True enough,

Neshobe agreed.

But in any event, there

s no way we can get a message back to the Grand Library, or anyone else, just at the moment. There

s no ship to send it on.


Except the
Dom Pedro IV,”
said Chandray.

Aha,
thought Neshobe.
There it is at last.
She had spent too many years in politics to be surprised by a show of self-interest masquerading as some sort of generous offer. It was a relief finally to have it show up. These two characters had seemed too good to be true. Neshobe had not the slightest doubt that Chandray had known ahead of time that there were no other ships in-system or expected.

You

re suggesting that we might use your ship?

Neshobe asked sweetly.


It at least seems a reasonable enough notion that it ought to be considered,

Chandray said, offering an answer hedged in with qualifiers.


According to what I

ve heard from you, that ship of yours is not in the best of shape,

Raenau objected.

And it is a hundred years or so out-of-date.


But it

s what you

ve got,

Chandray said, a bit too eagerly. She would never get far as a negotiator.

We need to get our ship checked over, and maybe repaired. And you need a ship.

“You’ve
suggested a reason we might need a ship,

Neshobe said.


Officer Chandray

s ship was crippled while attempting to bring vital information to this world,

Koffield said.

None of her crew can ever return to their homes or their families. Two crew members died in cryosleep, apparently as an indirect result of the sabotage committed against the ship. Officer Chandray nearly died herself, and is only recently recovered. Precisely because the ship is an antique, it seems highly unlikely that there are any available qualified crew in this system, a fact which she knows perfectly well. If the
Dom Pedro IV
flies again, Officer Chandray will have to cross the starlanes on the ship that stranded her in your time, killed two of her friends, and almost killed her. She has no ownership stake in the ship, and won

t gain anything from the repairs. Nor is the ship hers to command. Only Captain Marquez can make such decisions. Under those circumstances, suggesting that the ship be sent off after a misplaced book hardly seems like the height of selfishness.


Unless you people wish to accuse Officer Chandray or me of any other frauds, crimes, shady deals, or dishonest acts, I suggest we take her suggestion at face value.

Koffield glared around the table.

This isn

t
our
planet; If you wish to take everything we say or do as a trick, feel free to do so. It will make no particular difference to us.

Neshobe spoke up before anyone else could, mostly to keep anyone else from speaking and making things worse.

Very well, Admiral. Point taken.

The tension in the room was getting out of hand. There was going to be a fistfight in another few minutes—but she was not at all sure who would be fighting whom. She had to defuse this, and fast.

At that moment, the solution came to her. A way to buy time and get something useful accomplished, all at once.

It seems to me that your ship needs refitting, and we need to do a great deal more research into the whole question of ecologic collapse. There

s a place where we can get both those things done. Officer Chandray, if you would be so kind as to contact your Captain Marquez, please invite him to bring his ship into Shadow-Spine Station. We will provide whatever service and repair the
Dom Pedro IV
needs at no charge. I would suggest you take your lighter, the
Cruzeiro do Sul,
and meet him there. It

s quite convenient to your own destination. And perhaps Vandar, and a couple of others, could accompany you.


To Shadow-Spine?

Vandar asked, and then smiled.

Ah, yes. That makes a great deal of sense.

Chandray looked from Neshobe to Vandar, clearly puzzled.

Ah, well, very good, ma

am. That

s an extremely generous offer, and one that I

ll relay to Captain Marquez as soon as possible. But, ah, well . . . Could you tell me where Shadow-Spine Station is? What

s our destination?


Shadow-Spine Station in on the spine between Ballast and SunSpot, orbiting Greenhouse,

Vandar said.


I

m sorry?

Chandray said.

Greenhouse,

Vandar said.

Executive Kalzant is absolutely right. It

s the center of terraforming and climate research for the whole Solacian system, and Shadow-Spine is our most advanced shipyard.

BOOK: The Depths of Time
12.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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