Worlds Away (17 page)

27

Cerro
Azul :

Guatemala
:

When Patli
finished
his story, Michael noticed Humberto’s eyes boring not into the
storyteller, but into him, as if trying to measure his reaction. It was an
incredible story, and if Michael had not encountered Ah Tabai, Aliah, and the
Kulsat, he would have immediately discounted the tale as nothing more than a
fable. Now, however, he was inclined to believe the story had merit. From the
description of the Grace’s ship and its destruction to the radiation sickness
caused by the piece of active Kinemet brought back to the camp, and ending with
the villagers’ rescue from the tall, bird-like aliens—it all made sense with
what Michael had already learned.

It was obvious that he had not hidden his belief as he
listened to the story; Humberto’s expression as he considered Michael was proof
of that.

For one fleeting moment, the thought of denying the story
went through Michael’s mind. After all, the fewer people who knew the truth of
the galaxy’s history at this point, the less chance of the information getting
back to Chow Yin, who would use it to his advantage.

Humberto’s track record of assistance and reliability
prompted Michael to trust in the Cruzado.

As if sensing Michael had come to his decision, Humberto
asked, “Do you think this is all true?”

“For the most part, yes.” Michael rubbed at the stubble
growing on his chin. “I’m not supposed to go into the details. It’s a matter of
international security, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy by my government. I
trust you won’t reveal what you learn here to anyone?”

Nodding, Humberto said, “So long as I have your word that
our people won’t be exploited anymore. It sounds like there is a connection
between our ancestors and whatever it is out there.” He pointed skyward.

“Let me put it to you this way,” Michael said. “There’s a
very real and imminent threat in the galaxy, known only to a handful of people.
The ‘god’ described in Patli’s story is most likely a member of a powerful race
of aliens who, at one time, could restrain the other systems in the galaxy. In
the past millennium, they’ve disappeared, and the threat grew.”

“I take it you are talking about something more dangerous
than Emperor Chow Yin?”

Michael said, “We encountered this menace. They ripped our
ship apart with a single strike, and from what we learned, the only reason they
didn’t destroy us is that they didn’t consider us to be worth the effort.”

Nodding toward Patli, Humberto said, “And you believe the
only defense might be found within a thousand-year-old tale?”

Michael shrugged. “The formula for Kinemetic conversion was
in this storyteller’s tale, the Song of the Stars. Apparently, it was passed
along to this Subo Ak by the dying alien. Perhaps Subo Ak left more clues that
might help us.”

Humberto spoke rapidly in Spanish to Patli, who then nodded
and replied. The Cruzado said, “He says the shrine is in a mostly forgotten
area of the Cerro Azul—the Blue Hills. It is where the warriors of the lost
village first learned of the fate of their loved ones. It is in the shrine
where Subo Ak etched the story on stone columns. Patli has not made the journey
there in more than twenty years, but he remembers the way.”

The two spoke in Spanish some more, and Humberto said, “The
shrine is just over the Guatemalan border. He says there is a horse trail that might
be wide enough for our truck. There are no border guards out here.”

“And he’s willing to show us the way?”

Humberto nodded. “He seems more than happy to do so. Few
people have shown this much interest in his story.” He said something to Patli
who, despite his age, sprang from his chair and hurried into his house. When he
returned, he was wearing hiking boots and had a large sack full of food. He was
ready to go.

Together, they went to the truck, and Yaxche and Patli
squished themselves into the front beside Migel, while the other three piled
into the back.

“We’ve probably got enough fuel to get there,” Migel said as
he pulled out onto the dirt road and headed north under Patli’s directions,
“but I doubt we’ll have enough to get back to Copán Ruinas.”

“No problem,” Humberto said. “Las Amates is only twenty or
thirty kilometers north of the border. We should be able to make it there to
refuel. If not, I have some friends there who can bring us some hydro.”

To Diego, Humberto said, “If this horse trail is passable,
it will let us go back and forth to Guatemala discreetly.”

As it turned out, the trail was passable, but only on foot
or hoof. The truck was too wide, and the ground too soft for the tires to get
traction. They all had to get out and walk. While the three Cruzados wore
military boots, and Patli had hiking gear, both Yaxche and Michael had street
shoes on. According to the old man, they were only a few kilometers away from
the shrine. By the time they got there, Michael’s feet were completely caked
with mud, and his ankles burned with the strain of the hike. He was so
miserable, he barely registered it when they finally reached their destination.

The area, as Humberto had told them while they hiked, was
part of a national park. While there was a healthy tourist industry there, he
didn’t think many people would venture that deep into the hills. Even if they
did, very few people could interpret the Mayan writing on the shrine.

“It doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a very long
while,” Humberto said, pointing to the tall grass in the clearing, and the
overgrown vegetation.

Near the tree line, there was a series of four stone
columns, no more than two meters high. Mayan glyphs covered their entire
surface.

Patli, barely winded from the hike, went to the columns and
ran the palms of his hands over them. He gave Michael and the others a wide
grin and started speaking in Mayan.

Yaxche, who didn’t look like he’d managed much better on the
journey than Michael, said, “He’s telling us what each glyph means.”

“The story he told us back at his place seemed much longer,”
Michael said, surveying the four columns.

Humberto nodded. “The glyph-style of storytelling is more
like point-form. The priest telling the story would fill in the narrative when
he recited it. There’s a lot of room for interpretation.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael said. “When our linguists tried
to decipher the Song of the Stars, we had a dozen different versions, and every
translator insisted theirs was the correct one.”

Humberto held up a finger, and a crease appeared in his
forehead as he questioned Patli. When the older man replied, the cruzado spoke
to Michael. “He says the only thing written on the columns that talks about
where the alien might have been buried is that it took Subo Ak from sunrise to
sunset to walk the distance across the valley from the Sierra De La Minas.”

“Twelve hours.” Michael looked behind him. “How far did we
come from where we left the truck?”

“About ten kilometers. It took us a little under four
hours.”

“And we’re not all exactly young and fit.” In his head,
Michael calculated. “If he could make better time than us, we’re looking at a
maximum range of, say, thirty kilometers from this spot.” A moment later,
Michael added, “Of course, that’s based on our interpretation of the glyphs.”

Humberto took out his holoslate and called up a terrain map.
“In a generally northern direction, I would say we should be looking in this
section, along the southern edge of the mountain range.”

Michael blanched. “That’s over ten-thousand hectares,
easily. It could take us weeks to cover that much ground.”

Humberto brought up another screen. “There’s a mining
operation supplier in Guatemala City. The Guatemalan Minister of Culture is one
of our supporters.” He glanced up at Michael. “I can trust him. I’ll ask that
he send satellite survey maps to us—we should be able to narrow down any caves
in the area. We should get some equipment as well: laser scanners, that kind of
thing.”

“Get a radiation detector,” Michael said. “The half-life of
Kinemet is in the hundreds of thousands of years. That might help.”

“Good.” Humberto typed a message. “According to the topographical
map, there’s a tributary to the Motagua River a few kilometers from here, and a
small village a few more kilometers downstream. I’ll tell my friends in Las
Amates to come get us there.”

Michael’s excitement was quickly dampened. “The fewer people
who know who we are and what we’re doing, the better.”

“Not to worry,” Humberto said, “I trust these men with my—”

He was cut off when the crack of a rifle shot split the air.
Diego, who had been standing at the southern edge of the clearing, flew
backwards as a bullet ripped through his shoulder, and he disappeared into the
long grass.

Migel swung around and shot into the forest, but the bullet
that struck was the one that hit him in the leg, spinning him around before he
fell with a loud cry.

Before anyone had a chance to react, a loud voice yelled out
in Spanish.
“¡No se mueva!”

28

Gliesan
Ship :

Centauri
System :

Justine watched
as
the Gliesans maneuvered their patrol ship close to the shuttle. At the
last moment, the shuttle veered to port and accelerated away.

“They think we’re attacking them,” Justine said. “Is there
any way we can communicate with Red Spot? I could explain what we’re doing.”

Naila reached out a feathery finger to an open space on the
wall beside him, and touched the flowing surface. A shimmering console molded
itself out of the wall. The alien pressed a series of small squares on the
device.

“It is rare that a Kulsat ship will respond to a hail, but
you may make the attempt. Direct your message into this receptacle. Our
communications program will translate to the Kulsat computers.”

He ran his finger along a section of the console, and a thin
protuberance formed out of the wall that Justine assumed was a microphone.

Justine stepped up to it and said, “Red Spot, this is
Justine. If you can hear me, please respond. We are not trying to destroy you
or your ship. The Gliesans have agreed to help us.”

Just when Justine thought there would be no reply, a
monotone voice spoke. “There will be no help. They will torture us. Death is
preferable.”

“I promise that is not true,” Justine said. “They have given
me their word.”

Several moments passed before Red Spot replied. “You cannot
guarantee our continuance. Our enemies practice deception on you, Justine.”

Trying to bridge these two very different worlds was
frustrating. Justine gave Naila an exasperated look. “Is there anything you can
do to prove to them they won’t be tortured?”

Naila and Fairamai shared a look. The pilot looked back at
Justine. “You show uncommon compassion for a violent species that shows no
compassion for others.”

Shaking her head, Justine said, “You can’t judge an entire
culture based on the policies of those in power. Red Spot proved that not all
Kulsat are like the Risen. She protected her people from Three Crescents’
murderous rampage, and she helped me—an alien—escape him.”

Cocking his head in a manner that Justine interpreted as
bewilderment, Naila bent toward the microphone.

“This is Naila of the
Fainne
. Do you have the ability
to broadcast my words to your entire ship?”

“All Kulsat on board can hear you,” came the monotone reply.

Formally, Naila said, “On behalf of the Collection of Worlds
and the Parliament of Gliese, I am willing to offer you and the other members
of your crew the right of asylum in return for your parole that you will
renounce all hostilities against the Collection now and in the future. You will
live, but you never be permitted to leave Gliesan space for the rest of your
lives. Do you agree to these terms?”

A few long moments later, Red Spot replied, “All are in
agreement. We accept your conditions.”

“Cut your engines. We will latch your shuttle to our ship
and enter Aetherflight.”

“Thank you, Naila,” Justine said.

Naila made a low throaty noise. “Do not thank me yet. Their
shuttle is much larger than our patrol ship, and our scans indicated there are
over one hundred of them. If the shuttle is secured to our ship, and we push
our quantum drive to its capacity, we should be able to convert them to Aethersleep,
but I cannot guarantee they will all survive the Aetherflight.”

Justine opened her mouth to ask him to elaborate, but
Fairamai got up from her seat and gestured to the corridor leading toward the
back of the
Fainne
.

“If you will follow me down the passageway, Justine, I will
take you to the passenger compartment. It is for your safety.”

As Naila began the docking procedure, Justine followed
Fairamai and asked her a question. “What kind of danger was Naila talking
about?”

“I’m sure you are aware there can be disorientation when
coming out of Aetherflight.”

“Actually,” Justine said as she trailed the Gliesan, “I’ve only
been on a quantum ship once, and I was the pilot at the time. I had no idea
what I was doing—though I learned quickly—but I seemed to be able to manage the
transition all right.”

“For our flight,” Fairamai said, “only the pilot will be in Aetherform
and remain aware. It is the way of it. All passengers and crew of our ships,
regardless whether they are Aethers or not, are placed in Aethersleep before Aetherflight.
It is for their safety. You will not be conscious during the flight, and
neither will I. Unfortunately, Naila will not be able to put all the Kulsat
into Aethersleep. He will only be able to maintain a link with a dozen or so.”
A moment later, she spoke in a low voice. “The Kulsat Risen apparently do not
bother to induce Aethersleep in their crew, and let their quantum engines
perform the conversion. The Kulsat may have more advanced technology, but that
doesn’t mean they are more enlightened.”

Justine guessed that Aethersleep must be the term for
quantizing another being, whether by a Kinemat, or by a quantum drive. Sensing
the deep emotion behind Fairamai’s last statement, Justine was curious about
the difference. “Why don’t you use the quantum drive to start the photonic
change in passengers?”

The alien shook her head. “There is a significant risk of
passengers not returning to the physical state if the Aetherdrive initiates Aethersleep.”

“Uh…”

“Were you not aware of this problem?” Fairamai asked. “Did
you experience a noticeable delay when your ship came out of Aetherspace?”

Gulping at the thought that there had been a chance that all
of them aboard the
Ultio
could have been stuck in the quantum state,
Justine said, “Yes. That was one of our greatest hurdles when we began
experimenting with quantum drives.” The more she learned, the more she realized
how much more there was to learn. “Many of our test pilots died…”

Fairamai had reached the passenger compartment, and gestured
for Justine to enter first.

“I am sorry to hear that,” the alien said. “We undergo years
of training to master Aetherform and inducing Aethersleep before we are allowed
to take a ship into Aetherspace.”

“Since we both have the ability to become photonic,” Justine
asked, “why are we going into Aethersleep?”

“Only one consciousness can pilot a ship in Aetherstate. If
there are two consciousnesses, there will be conflict and instability. The chance
of returning to normal space is severely diminished.”

Justine felt her stomach sink at the thought. It would have
been another fatal lesson for NASA and Quantum Resources to learn. At the back
of her mind, she was aware that, in the four years since she’d been in Sol
System, any number of disasters could have taken place if Earth continued
quantum experiments.

Fairamai said, “The report we received from the other patrol
ship indicated that your journey to Centauri was entirely in Aetherspace. The
risks of mishap would have been greatly increased if you had gone outside
light. You are lucky to be alive.”

Fairamai touched a spot on the wall, and a hammock-like seat
formed out of the fluidic metal.

“You will be secure here.”

Justine didn’t move to the seat, however. Her mouth hung
open in shock.

“Is there a problem?” Fairamai asked.

“What do you mean by ‘outside light’?”

With a slight jerking motion of her head, Fairamai made a
chirping sound. She sounded surprised when she said, “You were not aware of
this, either?”

Justine shook her head. “I thought there was a problem with
the translation computer when you said the other patrol ship had sent a report
to you before traveling to my solar system. I thought maybe you meant they’d
left a report here for you, in Centauri; but they actually
went
to
Gliese, and then to Sol System, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” Fairamai nodded. “It is by the Grace that we travel
outside light. Inside a system, we travel in Aetherspace—inside the speed of
light—but once we reach the star beacons, we are able to arrive in another
system instantaneously.”

Justine couldn’t wrap her head around it. “How?”

“Outside light, the star beacons all occupy the same space.”

“Are you talking about quantum entanglement?”

“It is one theory. However, our experiments in that area
have proven inconclusive.”

Chewing her lip, Justine asked, “Could ‘outside light’ be
another dimension?”

“That is not known. When we are outside light, none of us has
consciousness. It is only by the Grace that we are able to return to Aetherspace
in another system.”

Stunned, Justine made her way to the seat and laid back into
it. “I spent four years in a quantized state,” she said in a hoarse voice. “And
I could have made the same journey in the blink of an eye.”

“It is unlikely,” Fairamai said. “You do not have the
training, and your ships do not have the proper technology. All of that will
come in time.”

Springing up to a sitting position, Justine said, “Then you
must train me and show us how to use the star beacons correctly.”

“We cannot.” The alien shrugged her delicate shoulders. “We
are forbidden to interfere in your technological evolution. It is a knowledge
you need to discover for yourselves. Already, I am in ambiguous territory by
warning you of the dangers.”

“I really don’t understand that policy,” Justine said.

“It is because of the Kulsat that the Grace made
non-interference a law.”

“The Kulsat?”

Fairamai made a tapping gesture to the wall beside her, a
console appeared showing writing that Justine couldn’t read.

The alien said, “We still have some time before Naila is
finished attaching the shuttle. I will tell you the history while we wait—it is
not restricted material.” She flicked her fingers across the panel, and it
disappeared back into the wall.

Another reclining seat, similar to Justine’s, formed
underneath Fairamai, and she sank into it.

“The Grace, who called themselves Xtôti, discovered Aetherspace
nearly a million years ago. They explored our galaxy, and erected a star beacon
in every system with a life-supporting planet, or cache of the Aetherock, so
that they would not have to spend years or centuries to return to those
systems.

“The Kulsat were the second species in the galaxy to achieve
space flight—we believe this occurred approximately eight-thousand-years ago.
From your own history, you understand that societal evolution can take a very
long time. The Grace were perhaps too impatient. They brought knowledge of Aetherspace
to the Kulsat as a gift. The Kulsat had not matured as a society, and quickly
splintered into a caste system of those who could achieve Aetherform, and those
who were unable to make the change.”

Justine interrupted. “The Deficients.” She thought about
Alex. “They weren’t able to transform fully.”

“Yes. It is rare for it to happen in the other races, but
there is some kind of physiological issue with the Kulsat species. Less than
one in ten thousand is able to transform into a ‘Risen’.”

“That is why the Risen have cultivated their elite status.”

“That,” Fairamai said, “and because of the lifespan
differential.”

“Lifespan?”

“A normal Kulsat has a life expectancy of approximately two
to three years.” The translator calculated the time equivalent for Justine’s
reference. “Those who fail the conversion process have their normal life
expectancy reduced to an average of one quarter—it is the same rate with any
other species when this happens.”

Justine swallowed hard. “One of my friends from the
Ultio,
Alex, wasn’t able to complete the transformation. Do you mean to say his life
expectancy will be cut short as well?”

“Yes. I am afraid that is the case.”

The average human lived to a hundred-and-twenty. Alex had
been exposed to Kinemet when he was ten. That meant that he most likely only
had twenty or thirty years from the time on Macklin’s Rock left to live.

Fairamai said, “We make every effort to ensure those
unconverted are comfortable. Though they can never exist within the gravity
well of a planet or moon, we have many stations in our system where they work
and live out their lives.”

“There’s no cure?” Justine asked, to which Fairamai shook
her head.

She said, “The Kulsat call them Deficients, and do not treat
them very well. Often, since they rarely have more than a year of life left in them,
they are sent out to mine Aetherock, or they are used as front-line troops in
combat missions against the Collection.”

Justine was aghast. “And the Xtôti didn’t do anything to
stop the Kulsat?”

“The Kulsat did not begin their war with the Collection until
after the Grace disappeared from the galaxy. Before that point, the Grace were
able to keep the Kulsat reined in. No one knows how this was accomplished;
otherwise, we would have used the knowledge long ago to stop them.”

After a moment, Fairamai continued, “The Grace realized that
interference could have unforeseen consequences. They decreed that all species
would retain autonomy over their own affairs in all matters, especially when it
came to technological advances. Only once a system Emerged could they petition
to become a member of the Collection of Worlds and share technology.”

Justine said, “That answers some of my questions about the
Kulsat’s internal culture, but why are they so aggressively paranoid about
other species? Surely, there has to be a way to stop the war between them and
the rest of the galaxy. You said it’s been going on for a very long time.”
Justine shook her head in astonishment at the thought of a thousand years of
war. “Does it have something to do with this ‘final component’ they kept asking
me about?”

Fairamai gave a shrug of uncertainty. “At this point, there
can only be speculation. Over the centuries, many of our records have been
lost, and those that remain are in dispute. We believe the Xtôti—the
Grace—possessed a higher level of technology concerning the Aetherock than any
we have been able to develop. There are two aspects to this advancement that we
have debated endlessly.