The Seeds of Time (45 page)

“Your wife is dead then, sir?”

Tandy looked over at Clio and his expression changed from reverie to briskness once more. “Yes. She’s gone. Five years now. Long enough not to dwell on it, I suppose.” He turned from the window, moving to the sideboard, where he poured himself a drink. “Can’t offer you one, I’m afraid. You’re on duty soon.” He brought his drink over to the sofa, gestured her to the seat opposite.

“What I started to say to you, and never quite got to, is that our mission is of the most enormous consequence.” He sipped his drink, savoring it. “Faster than light, Clio, faster than light. This may be the prize awaiting us on Niang. There can be no more momentous undertaking, has not been, since the dawn of human civilization. And
we’re
a part of it.” His eyes glowed with the intensity of his thought.
“You’re
a part of it, Clio. Can you imagine what that means?” He regarded her for a moment. “You do remind me at times of my Suzanne. Yes, at times. You’re a good listener. Intelligent, as she was.” He smiled a stabbing, brief smile. “Don’t worry, Ms. Finn. I will not court you. I meant that as an observation, merely. And it is a very high compliment. But not a courting gesture, no, you’ll not find that from me. And I’m sure you’re not looking for it, either.”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir.” Had that one right. Didn’t go well to sleep with the brass. Made things crazy on a small ship a million years from home.

Tandy finished off the rest of his drink, put the glass down next to the framed photo. “Do you ever think about your place in history, Clio?” He wasn’t looking at her now, and continued: “Most people have no sense of that. It’s nearly impossible to pull back, see the broader field where you struggle, see it in relation to the progression of human events. Yet here we are, embarked on what may someday be called the Niang Turning Point. Your name, for example,
may be famous among explorers, much as Christopher Columbus, Coronado, de Gama.” He glanced at her. “Something to think about, isn’t it? ‘Clio Finn, searching for Earth’s biological salvation, stumbles upon the first alien artifact and ushers in a new age of galactic exploration.’ ”

“That telling leaves out a lot,” Clio said.

“Of course! History seeks a thread out of the maze of events. Therefore simplification, simplification.”

“How about this,” she said. “ ‘Clio Finn’s corporate sponsors reject Niang’s offer of biological renewal, and opt instead for one more piece of technology.’ ”

“I won’t argue the biology aspects with you, Clio. You know where I stand on that one. But history may well mock that idea, as it does the Spanish search for gold and the fountain of youth in the New World. Neither were found, nor did the Spanish ever understand that the wealth they had discovered was the land itself. That’s the myopia of our day-to-day lives. We miss the point.” Tandy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “History may also note that Clio Finn’s discovery of an alien spaceship ushered in not exploration, but conflict. The first interspecies hostilities.”

“So that despite the peaceful beginnings of Space Recon,” Clio said, “humanity managed to convert the enterprise to their favorite pastime, war. A languishing military finds its niche.”

“Melodramatic, Clio. You think that I welcome armed conflict, no doubt. Not true. However, it may be forced upon me—and somehow, given what has transpired, I do in fact expect it.” He leaned back, arms along the back of the couch. “I do in fact.”

“Why have they attacked us?” Clio asked.

“The Nians?”

“They aren’t Nians. There are no Nians.”

“No. Probably true. But it helps to pin a name on them, and Nians may do until we learn more. In any case, I think its clear that they’re keeping us from the ship. They mean to prevent our discovery of the ship’s technology. Of faster-than-light technology.”

“Why don’t they just destroy the ship?”

“Perhaps they are marooned, possibly they are the crew of the crashed ship itself, and they may not have the firepower.”

“They could do a pretty good job of dismantling the ship and hiding parts of it.”

“Perhaps. Good questions, Clio. I don’t know the answers.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then he began to talk of the stars again—rambling on at times, looking over her head at some point of clarity visible only to him, searching for answers, and at other times gathering her into the conversation with his eyes. But then the conversation went on without her, while she struggled to have something to say, until she realized that what he needed was someone to listen and maybe understand him. At times she thought she did, at least the part about the stars. The stars being our future.

As his voice hummed in the room, Clio swung her legs onto the footstool and leaned her head into the soft leather chair, closing her eyes. “All my life, been looking,” she said.

“Looking?”

“At the stars. Ever notice how they always look ’bout the same distance away? No matter how far you go, always ’bout the same distance away …”

He made no answer and she sank toward sleep, lowering into dreams as though by the thin strands of Tandy’s classical music. As she sank, she was seeing the
Galactique
cutting its ponderous trail out from Vandarthanan Station, out from Earth’s vicinity, heading for Dive point. Space was silent—but here, the surge of a far-off symphony, and underneath, deep beneath, was the barely heard whirr of electronics, the sigh of hydraulics and clicks of vent openings and closings, together with the underlayment of seventy men and women striding the decks, rattling the ladders … and moaning in their sleep like her.…

Later, she might have felt a blanket draped over her,
might have heard, “Niang is a new destiny, you see? Leave the past behind you, Clio, as I must …”

leave the past …

leave the past …

Clio hesitated just outside medlab, hand about to clench down on the door latch. Here were more pills to take. People always shoving pills at her. And no doubt which ones this time, with the
Galactique
headed into Dive point, and the Dive pilot needing medicating, and needing it bad. She unlatched the door and pushed.

“Finn reporting.”

A sandy-haired youngster in a white lab coat turned to check her out. But not alone. With a start she saw Jared Licht sitting on the gurney, swinging his legs. But of course he would be here. Here were drugs. Not exactly recreational drugs, but a drug … and thus of interest to DSDE.

“Guess we’ll have to boost your attention span, Finn,” he said. “Can’t have you falling asleep when the ship needs someone at least marginally conscious. The Department understands.”

“The Department can go fuck itself.”

Licht smiled brightly. “Yes! Talk dirty to me, baby.”

The medic was holding a small plastic cup with pills in it. Nearly dropped the cup at her profanity. More red vitamin pills plus the familiar blue tabs, dexichloromine, the old contraband she’d used—now regulation issue.

Clio swallowed the tabs, turned for the door.

“Wait.” This from the medic. “I’ll have to observe you for a few minutes until they take effect.” He looked apologetic as Clio turned to stare him down.

“I don’t need observing.”

Licht sprang from the gurney, sauntering close to wash her with those violet eyes. “Of course you do. Doctor,” he said to the medic, “you can leave her in my care for the moment.” The medic’s brow crumpled. Licht gazed at him with his pale smile. The medic fled.

“It’s a shame to get you back on your old addiction,
Finn. I must say I don’t approve. But national security calls.”

She walked to the other side of the pallet, putting it between them.

“Starting to feel the old kick yet?” he asked. The black of his shirt set off his face and hair like a pale fire. “Don’t feel like talking, do you?” His face parodied a hurt reaction. “Sometimes people don’t like me, Finn. When people don’t like me I figure they’ve got something to hide. So then I keep a real close watch. From that perspective, you might as well be friendly, you see?”

“What do you want from me, Licht?”

“Oh, I want your body, and when I’m done with that I want your mind. Sex will be intriguing with you, Finn. You can’t imagine how much I’m looking forward to that, planning for it. Plans flicker into my mind at unpredictable moments—like now, in fact. You do add delight to this otherwise hellish bus ride to nowhere, you’ll never guess how much.” He was around the gurney before Clio snapped into action herself, and felt her arm grasped. “Did I answer your question? Or did you want more details?”

“You answered it.”

Up close his face was hard; she could almost see the chisel marks.

“If you touch me,” she said, “I’ll break your fingers.” She called up a demur smile, hoped it didn’t wobble.

He dropped her arm, hands thrown up in an innocent, palm-out gesture.
“Touch
you, right here in medlab? My goodness, Clio, you have an active sexual imagination yourself. But I don’t think you quite understand my devotion to protocol. What will happen is, you will complete your work for Tandy, and that means, let’s see … two Dives, I believe, and after you’ve completed your tour of duty, after they release you, you will come under my jurisdiction to face charges for recent offenses. And old ones. You do remember the old ones? Murder charges stay on the books, Clio. Forever. When I have custody, it will be for quite a long while. Until then …”

The door opened and Timothy Ashe walked into the
room. He looked at Clio, then Licht. “Am I interrupting an official conversation?” he asked.

“Yes. You’re interrupting,” Licht said.

“Sorry,” Ashe said, walking to the bulkhead supply drawers. “Only take a moment.” He started opening and closing drawers. “Where do they hide the aspirin?” he said to himself.

Licht drew a long breath, watching Ashe with close attention.

Clio felt a sudden relief, not to be the object of Licht’s gaze. Like a gazelle on the plains when the leopard changes targets.

Ashe looked back at them. Repeated, “Anyone know where they keep the aspirin?” He shrugged. “Headache.”

“You can’t issue yourself aspirin,” Licht said. “Medics do that.”

Ashe slammed the last hatch door shut. “Well that’s bloody stupid.”

“Not at all. Ship’s rules. As I’m sure you know, Mr. Ashe.”

Ashe leaned back against the counter, eyes fixed on Licht. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t bloody stupid.” His expression took on a surprised innocence. “Oh. Not something one says to DSDE, though, is it? Department of Social and Drug Enforcement might write me up for bad attitude.”

“Depends on the game you’re playing,” Licht responded.

“Let’s see … game.” Ashe’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Blind Man’s Bluff? King of the Hill?”

Clio interjected. “Pissing contest?”

Licht swung to face her. “You’d lose that one.”

“Losing anyway, mister.”

“Well.” Ashe pushed off from the counter, walked toward them, taking Clio by the elbow. “This has been fun. Next time we’ll try to stay longer. Beer and chips? Oops, more contraband. Maybe it’s just not going to work out between us. Can’t say I didn’t try.” Ashe steered Clio to the door.

From behind, Licht said, “Not at all. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Small ship, you know.”

Ashe shut the door behind them.

“Thanks,” she said.

“My pleasure.” They started to walk down the corridor toward the mid-decks hatchway. “Figure you didn’t need Jared Licht just before the big Dive.”

“Got that right.”

“So how you feel?”

“Feel? Let’s see. Like my body’s on loan from the morgue. Like my last meal is alive inside my stomach.”

A large smile cut a path across his face. As Clio started down the hatchway she added, “The usual.”

Clio climbed the ladder to the bridge, where Hocking acknowledged her, barely, raising his chin a couple centimeters. Singh nodded his head at her. The deck greeted her with the gleam of its close-packed instrumentation, like the teeth of the beast they pretended to control, here in the mouth of
Galactique
.

“Sir,” she said, sliding into her chair.

Voris, in the copilot’s seat, smiled at her as though they shared a fun secret. But nothing was fun about Dive. They were heading into it, and coming up close.

“Lieutenant Voris,” Hocking said. “You will arm the engines and bring us to sixty-five-percent burn. Then you will turn the helm over to Finn.” Hocking took his place, strapped in. “Finn, you will execute the Dive maneuver at the Dive point coming up.”

“Yessir.”

Clio wiped her hands on her pants leg.
Damn blue pills give you the shakes, and where is the heat on this deck, anyway?

Voris patched into Clio’s channel. “I just want you to know, Clio, that I have complete confidence in you. I know you can do it.”

“That’s a big help, Voris.”

“Meg. Call me Meg.” She executed the burn, a long one, with a sure hand. The
Galactique
pushed forward out of its comfortable cruise toward a full gallop. With
Galactique
’s
mass, entering Dive point was a tricky affair. In the days of the diminutive
Starhawk
, a ship could slip in knife-clean, and a petit mal would seize near-space for just a moment. But now, the mighty
Galactique
pressed the envelope, as the engineers said, taking Vandarthanan’s theory a couple more steps.

Clio heard ship’s engines strain.

Beside her, Voris said, “I guess this is really it. This is my fourth Dive, so it’s not that I don’t know what it’s like.” She looked over to see if Clio was paying attention, continued anyway. “The other times were for practice, though. Now, my first real mission, and we’re headed to
Niang
, and nearly blown apart before we even started. We were lucky to escape.”

“Yeah, just a damn string of luck.”

“You mean it wasn’t so lucky? But look on the bright side, like the captain says, it’s really a venture we can all be proud of.”

Clio busied herself with running systems checks. “Immortal words, all right.”

“At times like this,” Voris’ words crept in again, “I know I have my congregation standing behind me. It dissolves the fear of space and Dive and death, Clio. It does.”