The Gate to Futures Past (30 page)

A
THOUGHT TRAVELER. Of course they'd be here, too.

This Tikitik was closer to the Cersi variety, tall and black and formidable. It wore a red-and-black robe that flowed around its thin body and the bands of cloth on its wrists bore the familiar symbol. Round metal beads hung from gold threads along those bands, giving a disarming tinkle of bells with every movement of its long clawed hands.

Not that anything was disarming about the creature. Its four eyes were in ceaseless motion, and it kept what seemed a wary distance from both the Clan and the other new arrivals: Hoveny of a different ilk.

Security. Guards. Soldiers. Dressed for combat and unpleasantly suspicious. They'd taken his gear, going straight for his pack—handling it with a respect that told him they knew what it contained—then asked in no-argument tones for his vest.

Morgan had nodded politely and cooperated. If they thought him disarmed, they were welcome to that opinion.

If they thought the Clan cowed and harmless, they were welcome to that, too. He'd felt Sira's
wince
at the bedlam greeting her. Saw how those seated visibly relaxed at her calming response. Unreasonable, how they leaned on her, but they weren't wrong to trust her strength.

Though Sira would, he promised himself, be reviewing their hand signals.

The new arrivals had been smart, he granted, entering in such numbers they'd daunted even the Om'ray scouts, going straight to the physical threats and dealing with each without fuss or intrusive search. Barac was without his force blade. The Om'ray had lost their knives. They'd taken the packs of the M'hiray scientists as well as any loose belongings, so this wasn't just caution. Someone here was after information.

And that someone stood by the cots, talking to the senior edican
,
making the rest wait on nes pleasure
.
The neuter—his guess—was ordinary height, for a Hoveny, with shoulder-length straight hair, white, matched by pale skin and eyes. Ne was dressed in a well-cut beige business suit that could have come off a rack on Plexis. The boots, though. Those were, he'd bet on it, designed for use where gravity could fail. Meaning no time to change before coming down here, but enough clout to bring a small army. A decision-maker.

Even the Thought Traveler kept an eye bent in ner direction.

One to watch, he'd signaled his Chosen.

Morgan didn't need the
taste
of change to be sure of that.

“M
Y NAME is Lemuel Dis. SysComPrime for the System Cooperative. Director will suffice. Or Lemuel.”

My Human was right, as usual. Lemuel was neuter, though how he'd guessed was a mystery and how I knew? I ascribed my certainty to some Hoveny instinct, at last of use, for ne could pass for a mature unChosen or older Chooser, nes features and build little different from mine in the latter state.

What mattered was the “dis” attached to nes name, denoting a solitary life and secured thoughts. Like Aracel's, the Director's mind was locked away. If ne had Power—haisin—and wanted to use it, there'd have to be a door. Somehow, I didn't expect any vulnerability.

“Sira Di,” I replied, inclining my head politely as ne hadn't done. I looked over nes shoulder. “Thought Traveler.” I ignored Aryl's grumble.

Its head bobbed up, mouth cilia flexing. “Sira. Hoveny, however unique your—appearance.” Lemuel gave it a look. The Tikitik spread its arms, bells chiming. “I offer confirmation, Director.”

“Thank you,” ne said flatly, turning back to me. “I'm sure my esteemed colleague would also confirm that this—” nes hand lifted toward Morgan, then dropped, “—is proof of a ship come from outside our system, without notice or permission.”

My hair writhed over my shoulders. “‘This,'” I countered, “is Captain Jason Morgan and my Chosen.”

The writhing hair probably made more of an impact than my snarl, but Lemuel stared at me, then finally inclined nes head. “I meant no disrespect, Sira. The arrival of a new intelligent species after so long is a marvel.” Even tone, no change in expression. Either ne had a different opinion or was by far the best Hoveny we'd encountered at concealing emotion. “Welcome, Captain Jason Morgan, to the System Cooperative.”

Not Brightfall. Notice, chit?

I did. Lemuel wasn't local authority. What had ne said? “SysComPrime.” We faced the equivalent of a Trade Pact Board Member, I judged. Or higher.

Morgan bent in a full graceful bow, rising to offer Lemuel his hand. Raising the stakes, that was. Acknowledge me as an equal—

Or show everyone here you don't.

Ne took my Human's hand without hesitation, the grip long enough to make the point aliens didn't bother ner, then let go.

My turn. I stayed as I was, making my own point.

With a glance at me, Alisi Di stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I am Alisi Di—”

Lemuel accepted the hand, inclining nes head more deeply than for Morgan. “Seesor Alisi. We've been briefed on your litigation here.”

That “we” drew a hitherto silent Hoveny male to our small group, assembled near a table in the center of the room. Like the Thought Traveler, he kept his hands together. He inclined his head to Alisi, giving Morgan a nervous look.

Avoiding me altogether. “Koleor Su, Historian. My field is—”

“Sit,” Lemuel interrupted, taking one of five waiting chairs at the table.

Thought Traveler removed its chair, instead squatting in that space. Its head cleared the table, cilia courteously withdrawn.

Sitting together around a table implied negotiation, or its potential. That didn't alleviate risk, and I wasn't surprised to see Morgan ease into the seat beside the Tikitik to put himself between us. I was still close enough to Thought Traveler to catch a
whiff of spice, the not-unpleasant scent of its kind, and to see how its cilia waved in my Human's direction, presumably catching his scent, too. Or whatever it did.

The historian looked grateful to be excluded, a feeling I suspected Teris and Degal shared, given the company. Lemuel's armored staff formed a wide loose circle around us, enabling the Clan around us to observe, if they didn't mind leaning one way or the other.

More than sufficient force if we decided to, what, leap on top of them? I added excessive caution to the list. Morgan had been right. Lemuel was one to watch.

Though it was Lemuel's meeting, Alisi spoke first. “Director, Thought Traveler. I act now as seesor in a new claim.”

“Is this new claim pertinent?”

“It concerns Sira Di.”

“Ah. Let me guess. The claim that all of our visitors are from another world?” Lemuel rocked back, steepling nes fingers together. Two bore wide, plain rings; if this were the Trade Pact, they'd contain devices to record, track, or send an alarm. “Or the claim,” ne continued, “to be descended from those who left this one in the Twelve lost starships?”

Thought Traveler's head jutted over the table, cilia writhing. Tasting, I thought with discomfort. The thing was a living bioscanner. The head pulled back. “Both are true. I so testify.”

If Lemuel was annoyed by the interruption, ne gave no sign. Unless, I winced, ne'd planned to have the Tikitik assess us all along.
So much for secrecy.
I felt Morgan's grim
agreement.

“In that case,” Lemuel went on, “is there another of which I—we're—uninformed, Seesor Alisi? Or may I continue.”

“We are not the only ones here, Director,” Thought Traveler announced, eyes locked on me. For an instant, I thought it meant Aryl and tensed.

The satchel bounced against my hip. I fumbled at the clasp, the flap coming up on its own as the Oud swarmed out and onto the table with a drum of little legs. It assumed its speaking stance in front of me, facing outward so I had the better view of Milly's floral art.

“I am Tap Tap.”

Thought Traveler barked its laugh. Lemuel bent nes head. “Your reputation is known to me, Oud-Key Prime.”

“Prime?”

A tiny appendage waved at Morgan. Fair warning, I judged it, and didn't respond.

“Yours I know, Director Lemuel. Quick. Right. Capable. Best choice is.”

“I am gratified.”

I couldn't tell if that was sarcasm at being flattered, or if the tiny being was as important as it now seemed.

“Mine the claim.” Tap Tap dropped, spun in place, then rose. “I claim Sira Di to be Founder.”

The historian gasped. Armor creaked as someone shifted.

The Tikitik might have been made of stone, all eyes aimed at the Oud.

Lemuel looked to Alisi. “Seesor
,
have you accepted this claim for scrutiny?”

“I have.” The Hoveny lifted her head, her eyes flashing with determination. “Further, to expedite this claim's settlement—for the sake of these people, Director, who need urgent care, and in respect for your time—I require Sira Di leave immediately to undergo testing.”

Lemuel rocked forward again, palms flat on the table. “By whom?”

“The Sect of the Rebirth. The nearest Sanctum has been notified.”

A fingertip found the back of my hand under the table.
Care to explain, Witchling?

Later,
I promised. Presuming I'd figured it out myself by then.

“I see.” Lemuel turned to nes historian. “In your expert opinion, Koleor. Is the Founder folly or fact?”

“Nes work remains—”

“Let me clarify. It's been over a thousand solar orbits since the Fall and this fabled individual's death. Generations replete with legends and myths about who knows how many others, most no more than self-serving air.” Lemuel held out a cupped hand,
tipped it. “What proof exists there wasn't a group of brilliant minds behind the null-grid—how do we know the Hoveny invented it at all, and not, say, our esteemed Oud or Tikitik partners?” Nes hand flattened on the table.

Before the beleaguered historian could open his mouth, Tap Tap rushed across the table to confront Lemuel. “Oud not the Founder. Tikitik not. Haisin from Hoveny essential. Wasting time. Badbadbad.” It dropped down with a thump that would have caught nes fingertips in its sharp little claws had the Director not snatched them clear.

A bell chimed. “I assure you the Founder did exist and was assuredly Hoveny,” Thought Traveler said, eyes swiveling to aim at me.

“Tikitna refused null-grid technology,” Lemuel said, nes tone a warning.

One the Tikitik chose to ignore. “Wisely so,” it almost purred. “Nevertheless, we were and are aware. The Makers of that era were intrigued enough to make inquiries. Then, as now, we value variation.”

They'd been involved in Cersi's experiment.

Had they been behind it? “You know what we are,” I challenged.

Another languid wave, another tinkling of bells, then Thought Traveler uttered one terrible word.

“Made.”

“C
ERSI-VY.” Emelen Dis thrust a trembling finger skyward, adding the next with each naming. “Cersi-Ray. Cersi-So. Cersi-Gro. Cersi-Ne. Cersi-Tua. Cersi-Ye. Cersi-Pa. Cersi-Am. Cersi-Nor. Cersi-Xro. Cersi-Fa.” Until he stood, the digits of both hands outstretched to the Heavens, his shoulders burning as he held the pose with all the passion in his soul.

He took a deep reverent breath and slowly lowered his arms. Closing his eyes, he drew his clenched fists to rest over his heart. Last but never least. “Cersi-Vy.”

Tension drained from him. Not the traditional time for the Invocation, this, but the news had shaken him to his core. The familiar, Blessed names restored his purpose.

His duty.

Emelen opened his eyes. Gerasim Su knelt in the doorway, her young face shining with trust. A trust deserved, he reminded himself, for was he not the Keeper? This very orlas, his foresight in urging his brightest disciple to seek a position of responsibility had been rewarded. “No one will interfere with our work,” he assured his helper, waving her to her feet. Nermein's warning had come in time. The Director of the Hub nerself was on Brightfall.

With the summons just come? He could ask for no better
witness. The Blessed Ancestors had arranged it; he'd no doubts. None.

“I must prepare. Do you have any questions, child? Your task is vital.”

“I know what to do. I will not fail,” she vowed, inclining her head. “The call will be sent, Keeper, in your name.”

A call that would propagate itself, as planned. “Good. I will leave at once.”

She struggled not to frown. “Surely you'll wait for the others, Keeper.”

“There's no time. No time.” Emelen brushed at his vestment. The youngling rushed forward, helping straighten the robe. He took hold of her small chin and formed his lips into a benevolent smile. “The Rebirth, Gerasim. In our lifetimes. Think of that.”

Tears swelled in her eyes. “May it be so, Keeper,” she whispered.

And if she trembled?

Why, so did he, and all should.

For when this day was done—

The world would change.

“M
ADE.”

The M'hir
heaved
as those listening on every side reacted to the word. Tap Tap spun frantically, then froze.

I ignored everything but Thought Traveler. “How, exactly?”

Sira.
From Aryl, with concern.
Do you want to do this now, here?

Then where? When?
I replied. Morgan sat, still and intent. He understood. Hadn't he taught me this? That you didn't back away, not when what you had to have was this close. The Tikitik tried to play me against the others, for reasons of its own. Or entertainment.

I'd learned from the best. “How?” I repeated, leaning forward. “Or don't you know?”

An eye sought Lemuel, but ne remained silent.

“You're here to see how we turned out.” My hair, for once cooperative, slipped over my shoulders and coiled in front of me. The eye joined its fellows in staring at it. “Why not boast? You make living things into whatever you need. Fair, don't you think, to tell us how we started?” I sat back. “If you know.” Lacing my tone with doubt. “You're no Maker.”

The smaller eyes rotated up to regard me. “What value has that knowledge to you? How does it matter now, Sira Di, if our Makers learned the Hoveny Founder had an extra sense, an ability new
to any life we'd encountered? How does it matter if these—” a claw-tipped finger pointed at Tap Tap, “—possess the same gift? Innate. Potent. Above all, pliable. How does it matter—” third time, with the ringing of bells as the Tikitik reclaimed its hand, “—if our Makers decided in their magnanimity to grant this gift to those who left on the Twelve?”

I could hear the ragged breathing of everyone in the room. A baby's hiccup. My own heart, thudding in my chest.

“It matters. What were you promised in return?” Morgan asked, taking his turn, able to be as cool and calm as if we discussed a trade—

And not the insertion of Oud genes into my ancestors, willing or not.

The Tikitik replied, “The satisfying of a curiosity.”

They don't lie,
Aryl said, her mindvoice faint and anguished.
Sira, what
are
we?

This isn't the truth.
Not all of it. Not enough.

My Human knew it. “Curiosity about what?”

“I've no time for this,” Lemuel snapped.

Thought Traveler barked its laugh. “And here it is: the wisdom of those who care not for the past nor learn from it. Time as fleeting. Time as currency. While Tikitik live in the now and set in motion eternities. We are willing to wait generations for a worthy answer.” The creature stood. “It will be my greatest honor to prepare Tikitna for this one.”

The Director rose as well. “I demand you explain yourself, by my authority as SysComPrime.”

Cilia wriggled. “Ah, but I've told you all I choose, my good Director, and need answer to no authority as you well know. Besides, you'll see for yourselves soon.”

A clawtip, filed smooth and civilized, pointed at me. “We made you. The consequence shall be enlightening.”

“GO!” Tap Tap spun, then rose. “GO. Stupid. Bad is!”

“We made you, too,” Thought Traveler finished smugly and stalked away.

Lemuel Dis stood motionless, staring after the Tikitik as it was escorted by three of nes staff from the tent.

I took advantage of the pause to send an urgently needed
reassurance
to my waiting, anxious people, adding a plea for patience. Tap Tap's reaction was muted, a restless click, its “head” swaying as though it sought direction in that
other
space. I was reminded suddenly of the Drapsk, whose feathered antennae somehow did the same. Those and other species had a connection to the M'hir. Was ours any less natural? It seemed so.

The Thought Traveler spoke of consequence,
Aryl warned.
We must be vigilant.

She worried. Morgan smiled at me, warmth in his sending.
Well done, chit. You had our friend squirming.

Not how I recalled the past few moments, but I managed to smile back.
We did.

Always.
Aloud. “Here we go.”

The Director took nes seat. “With respect to Tikitik beliefs,” ne said without preamble, voice pitched to carry, “they are not pertinent, nor will I act on the basis of its unsupported testimony on any point. Until I'm satisfied these people,” a wave to the surrounding, grim-faced Clan “are not simply in the employ of this—”

“Human,” Morgan supplied, ever helpful.

“‘Human,' I will not support this test, Seesor. He brought weapons of alien design. Had in his possession pre-Fall artifacts, of inestimable value. From this Cersi, as claimed? How much more likely these were stolen with their help from this world and,” Lemuel warmed to nes topic, “for all I know, from this very site! Everyone here could be in collusion. With the exception of the Oud-Key Prime, of course.”

Tap Tap fluttered.

“But—the null-grid,” the historian protested, his face pale. “The Twelve couldn't return without it. And how these people just appeared—they must have arrived in pre-Fall travel globes. The null-grid is the only explanation—”

“Far from it. They could have used some Human technology unknown to us.”

The Director was halfway to convincing me, and I knew the truth.

Alisi Di surged to her feet, the embroidery on her coat glittering in the room light, throwing the dark symbols into vivid relief. “You've had access to every record at this site. We are innocent and we are not fools, Director, to be taken in as you suggest. Sira's people came to us injured and in need and we have helped them.” Her face might have been made of ice. “Your continued suspicion delays the urgent care several of them require. As Seesor
,
it is my responsibility, not yours, to confirm or refute a claim given to me. I insist you respect my authority here.”

“Then deal with mine first,” Lemuel countered, looking up at Alisi. “I claim we've one visitor here, an alien who made his way into our System without detection or permission, to commit criminal acts. Unless you've proof otherwise, I'm taking everyone here into custody for questioning on the Hub.”

“If that's what you need, Director?” Morgan's lips curved up at the corners. “Allow me.”

Oh, I knew that smile—the one meaning those on the other side of the table had run as far as he planned to let them—and did my utmost not to show anything.

So when my Human showed his hands, then reached—slowly—inside his shirt, I felt a thrill of anticipation—not that I knew what was coming, but he'd a knack for surprises.

He produced a small package, peeling off the metallic film I knew he used to conceal items from scans. There. The Speaker's Pendant dangled from his fingers, like a leaf caught on a chain. My pendant. If Thought Traveler had sensed it through the film, I'd seen no evidence of it. Just as well.

Morgan dared wink at me as he handed the thing to Alisi, not Lemuel.

It was the latter who spoke. “What's that?”

“Something made on this world by those who sent starships full of Hoveny—and Oud and Tikitik—to Cersi. Something then used on Cersi until we brought it back here. Analyze it. You'll have your proof.”

“Tikitik, stupid, bad is. Oud bargain to travel in space. Ships confined, finite.” Tap Tap spun, showing off its flowers. “Tikitik Makers helped create new form, better is. We do well. Thrive. Next, try to make Oud Founder. Bad bad. Tikitik stupid. Not make Sira-Oud. Not make Hoveny-Oud.” A flurry of tiny taps. “Only good thing Tikitik, made Oud-Key by accident, better, best is!”

Not in my opinion,
Aryl sent, fading back.

The creature was adept in the M'hir, I thought wryly, dipping within it, able to sense Power moving through and assess it in others. Not, as yet, with Clan-like control or Talent. Unless I counted being a spy.
Do you
hear
me, Tap Tap?
I sent at it.

I saw it twitch, appendages moving furiously, then stop. “Did something, Sira. What?”

Looks tasty to me,
from Morgan, along with an image of prawlies, which had more than a passing resemblance to the Oud, sizzling in a pan.

Tap Tap oriented to Morgan. “Did something, Jason. What?”

If our little friend
heard
that,
my Chosen sent with
amusement, I'm never playing
Stars and Comets
with it.

The three of us were in one of what Lemuel called “passenger accommodations.” The room had a gray metal floor, walls, and ceiling. I'd paced it: three strides by two. There was a long bench on the outer wall which I supposed could be a bed if you added a mattress. Above that, a wide locked cabinet or closet. Lighting came from a recessed fixture protected by wire. If there'd been a door, it'd be a prison cell.

Or troop carrier.
Morgan had made himself comfortable in a corner of the bench, one foot up, arms around a knee. I sat, when I sat, at the other end to leave space for the tiny Oud, who scurried back and forth between us as if too excited to be still. Or anxious.

Or, like me, still processing what Thought Traveler had said and what it implied. Genetic modification was commonplace med-tech for several species in the Trade Pact, including, Morgan assured me, the teeming masses of humanity. Others, for their own reasons, either practiced or outlawed it. Cross-species tinkering was frowned upon—which only made it expensive. That by
the Tikitik Makers? Something else entirely. My skin crawled when I thought of it, not that it changed a thing.

The Director had acted quickly; I gave ner credit for that. While one of nes staff went with Alisi and the pendant, Lemuel had invited us to board the transport.

For the most part, the Clan were relieved. It was progress, after all. The shelter Pauvan and the others had supplied, however welcome at first, was a temporary solution; those who gave the armored guards wary looks were mollified when those guards helped carry blanket rolls and returned packs.

Morgan's hadn't been returned, nor any weapons, but I wouldn't have returned those either.

My people were nearby, in rooms like ours. There were three levels of them, each with accommodations, connected by a narrow lift we were free to use and a large one we were not, requiring a key. In the same way, while we waited, we were welcome to move within the areas set aside for us.

And nowhere else.

Our wounded, accompanied as promised by their “heart-kin” as well as Aracel Dis, one other edican
,
and our Healer, Holl di Licor, were in a larger room at the front of the second level. I'd been to see it. It was nothing more than a cargo hold, with power couplings for the cocoons.

The reality was we were all cargo, currently the property of Lemuel Dis, the SysComPrime, whom I suspected had swept in to have us in nes possession before any mere planet-bound authority could arrive.

Fortunately, Alisi Di had been truthful: her right as seesor superseded any other, in orbit or on the ground. If the pendant, and whatever traces clung to it, proved its origin and travels, Lemuel's transport would take us to the nearby town, where the Sect of the Rebirth had its Sanctum, and I'd be tested.

If not, our destination was nes space station and a tribunal to decide if Morgan was an antiquities thief from another part of the universe and we, his accomplices. Ironically, all true, depending how you looked at it, and certainly not how we'd hoped to
enter this society. His plan was to let it play out. My part would be to keep the Clan on the space station while it did.

To stop them following the dead.

How's Aryl?

Avoiding Tap Tap.
So well, I could believe I was alone in my body if it weren't for the other's small, rapid heartbeat and an emphatic spot in my mind labeled
don't bother me
.

Morgan nodded, returning his attention to the Oud. “You're saying all three species decided to make a new Hoveny Founder.”