Chapter 3
the shiell institute, located in jardine on the primary world of new chicago system, was founded in 2314 by louise and darius shiell. it was chartered to research sensitive phenomena and to train human sensitives. though ridiculed within the solar empire, it was praised by the zor high nest; in 2321 it added a sanctuary instructor to its staff. in 2346 the institute certified the first working sensitives within the solar empire; its regimen of e3g tests were adopted by the imperial navy in 2367.
—Imperial Encyclopedia, 2405 Edition
March 2422
esYen, Zor'a System
Third Deputy Director Laura Ibarra touched the comp and the holo-image zoomed to a close-up, showing Ch'en'ya HeYen and a heavyset man. The icon below the image showed that there was audio to go along with it, but they'd been using a scrambler so it was in any case unintelligible.
"Who is he?"
"A ghost." Laura picked up the stoneware mug of tea at her elbow and sipped it thoughtfully.
"You'll be explaining that, I expect." Jackie couldn't help but smile. She'd known Laura Ibarra since she had been an intel officer aboard His Majesty's fleet carrier Duc d'Enghien; when they'd first met, the spook had rubbed the Gyaryu'har the wrong way, but that was primarily because of circumstance.
And, of course, because of M'm'e'e Sha'kan, who had turned out to be a pretty decent fellow after all. When the rashk had become Director of Imperial Intelligence four Standard years ago, he'd posted Laura directly to Zor'a; since then, Jackie had made her peace with Laura, and now found her company pleasant—and often instructive. Now they sat in a sun-filled chamber of the Gyaryu'har's house in esYen, sipping tea, the holo hanging in the air between them.
"His name is Djiwara. Joseph Michael Djiwara. Goes by the middle name, or did, if he was still alive."
"Well, he's clearly still alive," Jackie said, "unless I'm much mistaken."
"What I mean is, we thought he was dead. Djiwara is— or, rather, was—a small-time merchant operating mostly outside the Empire. His home base was vaporized by the vuhls almost twenty years ago. Let's see . . ." She touched her comp: "Display dossier entry for subject," she said, moving a tinted patch over Djiwara's head in the image. Another holo appeared, showing a separate head shot and several columns of information next to it.
"His home base was at a place called Port Saud Station," Laura said. "Just outside the Empire, Orionward. Used to be a refueling stop for merchants."
"Pirate port?"
"Not worth their trouble. It's too far off the trade routes; the closest thing to a habitable planet in Port Saud System has violent tectonic activity and a poisonous atmosphere. It was nothing but a secondhand orbital station—at least until January 2406, when the vuhls destroyed it."
"Killing everyone aboard." Jackie picked up her own tea mug and leaned back in her armchair. "Including Djiwara."
"That's what Langley comp recorded, but obviously he got away."
"So . . . what does he want with Ch'en'ya? And where's he been hiding for the last sixteen years? And why would the vuhls have attacked a place as out-of-the-way as Port Saud?"
"You know as much as anyone about how the vuhls think. You tell me."
"As Master Byar once told me, 'Despite does not have a point.' But it does: We aren't always sure why they attack when it happens, but there's usually a reason we figure out afterward." Jackie smiled again. "Kind of like analyzing the stock market—there's always an explanation after the fact. Still, there must have been something there they wanted—or something they wanted dead."
"Or someone."
"Or someone," Jackie agreed. And there's something familiar about that place, if I could remember what.
She put her hand on the hilt of the gyaryu and closed her eyes. That always drove Laura crazy; she watched closely, but Jackie never gave up any information about what she was doing.
Sergei, she thought, what do you folks know about Port Saud?
Nothing, came the reply almost at once. It wasn't even on the charts. Perhaps you should try using your comp like everyone else. Jackie heard a chuckle and couldn't help but smile. That usually drove Laura crazy as well.
"Where'd they go?" Jackie asked, opening her eyes again.
"They boarded a commercial ship, Hellespont, outbound for Mothallah. From there they could have gone anywhere."
"Do you know anything about the ship?"
"Not much. Captain is a retired Navy man named Rafael Rodriguez."
"Well, that narrows it down. There must be only eight billion retired Navy men named Rodriguez."
Laura shrugged her shoulders. "And only eight million named Rafael Rodriguez. All right, I'll see what I can find out about him. In the meanwhile—"
"In the meanwhile," Jackie said, "we should try to find out where Hellespont went."
Shiell Institute, Jardine City
New Chicago System
The Shiell Institute at New Chicago had never been host to so many dignitaries nor, indeed, so many soldiers. Byar HeShri, Master of Sanctuary, had seen quite a lot of both in the past few years; he wasn't fond of either.
He was beginning to be fond of egeneh, something he'd detested when he was young. Of course, it had been a different universe then. It had been si S'reth's favorite, eights of turns ago—it warmed him against the cold of Despite, he used to say.
I should like to say that I am getting old, he thought to himself. But I fear that it has already happened.
He received deferent wing-gestures from People, nods and bows from humans, and maddening, incomprehensible arm-wavings from rashk as he walked slowly along the busy corridors of the Institute. Almost everyone stayed out of his way; presumably his contemplations were too important to interrupt.
Wait until I take my naps in public, he added to himself, thinking again of si S'reth, who had become an annoying old Honored One just before he transcended the Outer Peace.
This particular morning at Shiell it was raining steadily and rhythmically, the drops slapping against the windows and pavements; where the ramps and walkways extended between buildings, pedestrians remained dry due to low-power fields that deflected the rain aside. Still, the air was moist and heavy, making the 0.9 Standard gravities seem a bit more burdensome.
Rashk weather, Byar thought with a snort.
As he came up the ramp to Building 9, the doors opened before him and two human Marines came to attention and saluted. As he entered, he saw Dr. Rivendra Wells speaking with two colleagues near the lift. Wells, one of the foremost experts on vuhl tech, excused himself as he saw Byar approach, and turned to grasp forearms with him.
"se Byar."
"Dr. Wells. I should like to tell you that I am glad to be here, but I regret to say that I am merely glad to see you."
"That's good enough, Master Byar." Wells steered Byar by the elbow into the lift. "Fourteen," he said, and it began to rise.
"Have you made anything of the technology yet?"
"Yes and no. We know what powers it has, we know what effect it's supposed to have. We've rigged a monitoring comp and a headset for humans and zor."
"But you cannot make it work."
"That's about right, yes. It seems to respond only to certain Sensitive stimuli."
Byar let his wings move to a posture of amusement. "Which, of course, you cannot produce."
Rivendra Wells shrugged. "Not yet." The lift arrived and the two stepped out into a large laboratory/workshop filled with equipment, pieces of alien tech, and engineers in about equal proportion. Wells and Byar stepped into the room and immediately found themselves surrounded by some of each.
"Riv," one of the techs said, turning to Wells, "I can't find the damn—" He stopped at the sight of Byar HeShri. "Oh, sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to interrupt—"
Wells smiled. "Stan, this is Byar HeShri, the Master of Sanctuary. Master Byar, this is Dr. Stanley Komarov, one of our best techs. Stan, Byar is here to look at the alien rig. What can't you find?"
"Nothing important." The tech looked at the zor Sensitive, stuck out his hand as if to shake, then pulled it back and stuck it in his pocket. Byar reached out and grasped both arms, and the tech slowly responded with the same gesture.
"I would like to examine the 'rig,'" Byar said.
"Sure. Right this way, sir, Master—"
"Byar."
"se Byar." He managed the prenomen at least. "Come this way, we'll show you what we've got."
"Lead on."
He did. In the middle of the room was a group of twelve oblong metal-and-plastic alien somethings connected by fiber-optic cables of human design. There were two seats and two perches placed in front of them, with headsets made for both human and zor physiques; one of the other techs was sitting at a control console, which had a welter of indicators hovering in midair above it.
"We believe that the device is intended to multiply and project the power of a Sensitive," Stan said. "This part is the actual projector," he said, pointing to the oblong in the middle. "This part is some sort of synthesis device, and we have no idea what the hell these two do. Sir," he added after a moment.
"We were just about to start another test with a WS4 detailed to us, se Byar, if you'd like to observe."
"Has the Sensitive had any success as yet?"
"Well, no sir, not yet, but we're still moving through the various frequencies—"
"What is the rating of the Sensitive working with your 'rig'?" Byar asked.
"He's a . . . T6, se Byar. He was trained here at Shiell."
"May I attempt it? I believe my T-rating is . . . a few steps above that."
"Now, se Byar—" Rivendra Wells began, but Byar adjusted his wings and held up both hands.
"The Eight Winds did not blow me here by chance, my friend. I have come to New Chicago at your invitation; I assume that you brought me here to use my talents." He gestured to the headset. "If I may, se Stan," he said to the tech, picking up one of the zor-fitted headsets.
"' . . . a few steps above,' se Byar?" Wells said. "You're a T12. Other than the High Lord and one or two others, there isn't anyone in the Solar Empire as highly rated as you. This is experimental tech—if anything happened to you, the High Chamberlain would come here personally and pull my intestines out through one of my nostrils."
"I do not believe he would be moved to violence on that account, even if what you describe were anatomically possible." Byar's wings again lifted slightly in amusement.
"I'm not inclined to take the risk."
"se Rivendra," Byar said, turning slightly toward him, "it is not your risk to take." He examined the headset for a moment, then placed it carefully on his head. "Please proceed."
Rivendra Wells considered protesting again, but thought better of it. He put his hand on the tech's shoulder and sat down as the seat was vacated. A group had formed to watch the proceedings; Byar climbed onto one of the nearby perches, arranged his wings, and closed his eyes.
Wells made some adjustments on the console. "You should be getting something now, se Byar . . ."
Byar was getting something.
He could sense the minds in the room. There were five eights and seven, though his mind seemed to be processing the number as radix twelve: four twelves and five.
Six of the People. He could identify their Nest and clan almost without thinking—the hsi-markings were that distinct.
Five rashk. They were difficult to read, their minds processing three ideas in parallel, selecting two, then one, then all three to consider, synthesize, articulate.
Four eights and two remained. Four eights were certainly human, with five of them clearly Sensitives. Two of those Sensitives were members of that society called Guardians—humans trained to locate esGa'uYal.
That left two individuals, who were not physically in the lab, though Byar was not sure how he knew.
He opened his eyes and the two humans turned to him. Everyone else in the room was frozen in position; the light was brighter than he'd thought, and his inner eyelids closed of their own accord.
His chya snarled, knowing what was facing him.
"Master Byar," one of the humans said, the tone of his voice conveying exaggerated courtesy. Byar placed his hand on the hilt of his blade and felt anger course through him.
"You are unwise to come here, Servant," he said quietly.
"But we are not here, Master. You are here. You have summoned us—the s's'th'r."
The other would-be human nodded.
"That is not a word I know."
The first one raised his hand and opened it, palm-up. A colored pattern appeared in a ball above it. A thought formed itself in Byar's brain.
"An AI."
"Just so. You are the first meat-crea . . . the first 'not-Hive being' to access the s's'th'r. None has yet been mind-strong enough to use the capabilities of this device."
"What happens . . ." Byar gripped the hilt of his sword. The humans facing him seemed to shrink in size. "What happens when I desire to end this interview?"
"I do not understand. Please reformulate."
"If I wish to disconnect from it. From you. May I do so?"
"Why—" the Servant began.
Byar grasped the headset and tossed it to the floor. The two humans disappeared; the room burst into motion, like a paused vid ordered to play again.
"Master Byar, what's wrong?" Rivendra Wells was at his elbow at once.
Byar's wings had assumed the Cloak of Guard; three People, noting the position, approached the center of the room, half running, half flying, their chya'i already drawn and ready.
"Eight thousand pardons," he said after a moment. "I was . . . The device is disquieting.
"I . . . am ready to continue. Please return to your tasks, Younger Brothers," he said to the People, while the human techs stood back, trying to avoid any sudden moves, chya'i were sheathed. None of the three showed any inclination to leave Byar's side, instead standing nearby as if to defend him.
Stan Komarov reached down to the floor and slowly handed the headset to Byar, who accepted it while moving his wings into a polite stance.
"Thank you," he said, and placed it on his head.
The two human figures reappeared. The lights became bright; the other persons in the room froze in position. "Explain the s's'th'r to me," he said.
esYen, Zor'a System
In her esTle'e on Zor'a, one hundred and thirty parsecs away, Sa'a turned from inspection of S'r'can'u and drew the hi'chya. She made a gesture to an alHyu, who flew in search of ha T'te'e.
"With the aid of the s's'th'r you can perceive any mind or group of minds. Depending on the magnitude of your power—" The figure let his human face relax into a bit of a smirk, which Byar did not know exactly how to interpret. "—you can extend your k'th's's power in any way you desire."
Byar understood the word: it meant "Sensitive ability" in the vuhl tongue. With his heightened understanding, he perceived another meaning—one that implied digestion.
He shuddered slightly; the two s's'th'r-beings waited patiently.
"At any distance?"
"I do not understand the question," the AI answered.
"Distance. How—far—can I extend my—"
"k'th's's? It depends on your ability, Master Byar. In your case, I should think that the extent would be considerable."
"Show me."
"Very well."
The room disappeared, shattering like glass and falling away. It was replaced by darkness.
At first, Byar felt as if he had been cast into anGa'e'ren, the Creeping Darkness of the Deceiver; but after a few moments he began to perceive points of light: eight, then eights of eights, then sixty-fours of sixty-fours. Some were brighter than others; they were a variety of colors and shapes, fading and brightening.
"Minds, Master Byar." The voice of the AI came from somewhere and nowhere. "The minds in this city, on this planet. The closer you look, the more you see."
As Byar continued to look, he did indeed see more and more stars. He felt them, as well, and heard their thoughts—mostly alien human ones—and he realized that the mental powers he perceived were small . . . almost scarcely worth noticing. With a thought he could eradicate any one of them.
And feed them to my— he began in his mind:
"No," he said, and the heavens shook.
"Why, Master Byar," the sinuous voice of the AI said from somewhere nearby. "It is true: Your own k'th's's power is great, far more than any of the—"
"—meat-creatures," Byar interrupted. "That was how you were going to end that sentence, was it not?" He reached his hand for the headset, intending to tear it off again.
"Semantics," the AI said. "Please don't trouble yourself—if the term bothers you, the s's'th'r can be edited to use another."
"It is not the term," Byar replied. "It is what it implies. The device not only projects my mental powers, but it also seeks to twist them. You are trying to twist me, Servant."
"Master Byar," said the voice, "you have greater k'th's's power than any of the minds you see. In fact, the s's'th'r perceives a power in you greater than . . . most of those who have previously employed it. With this power, you could accomplish any number of things. Consider it."
"I am well aware of my place and my role, Servant," he answered. "I do not need your advice or your temptations."
"What do you need, Master?" the voice said from the darkness. "Your k'th's's is great—great enough to speak with us. What do you need? What do you want?"
Byar took a moment before answering. "Many turns ago," he said at last, "we first perceived the esHara'y at the edge of our consciousness. We thought that they were the esGa'uYal, but certain . . . experiences . . . convinced us otherwise.
"But this—the s's'th'r—is clearly a tool of Despite. This is something of esGa'u the Deceiver. And you ask me what I want from you? Why should I want anything?"
The AI did not answer, perhaps leaving Byar to contemplate the starry heaven of minds. The voice had been right in one respect: the more he looked, the more points he could see; gradually, the scene began to change to a view of New Chicago System. He could see the orange sun and the planets distinctly and clearly.
"There is one thing," Byar said at last. "There is something I want to understand."
"That can be arranged." The voice answered his unspoken request.
Looking closer, he could see something else: a thin twisted cable leading from somewhere nearby and stretching off into the distance—outsystem, into interstellar space.
He thought only for a moment before following it.
In the lab in New Chicago, Byar had not moved for several minutes. The zor had their chya'i drawn as if an attack were imminent. Rivendra Wells was watching the indicators on the monitors attached to the alien device reach levels he'd never seen before.
"se Byar is in danger, se T'te'e. I sense it."
hi Sa'a, I am troubled as well." T'te'e placed his wings in the Posture of Reverence to esLi. "I am not sure what you intend, but I fear that it is an unacceptable risk."
"I require your help."
"I would be dishonored if I did not accede to you, High Lord. Nonetheless—"
"I intend to travel the Plane of Sleep."
"Servants of Despite are free on the Plane, hi Sa'a."
"se Byar is many eights of parsecs distant," she replied. "We can only reach him through the Plane of Sleep, for that—"
"Eight thousand pardons, High Lord. I know that there is no time. I know also that se Jackie can guard our hyu and our hsi as we fly across the Plane of Sleep. I am ready to serve you however you ask.
"But I am not convinced of the wisdom of this course. The Flight of the People—"
"In esLi's Blessed Name, se T'te'e, this is not about the Flight of the People! This is about se Byar. His survival is critical."
"As is yours, High Lord."
"As is yours. We have spent too many lives because we are willing to sacrifice one individual for the greater good. We are going to cross the Plane of Sleep to help se Byar. se Jackie will guard us, and we will depart now. Prepare yourself."
Seeing that further resistance would be fruitless, T'te'e dipped his wings in a posture of assent.
Byar could feel his body now as he flew along, ethereal, through interstellar space. The stars were a brilliant backdrop, dappling his wings as he followed the trail of the braided rainbow cord.
He could not have said how long or how far he flew. After an eternity that might have been no more than a few seconds, he saw the cord descend into a solar system. As if his mind were changing the view to accommodate his understanding, he saw the system's primary and planets as clearly as if they were in a navcomp display.
The cord did not reach to any of the planets, however—instead it traversed the system and seemed to disappear entirely.
Curious, Byar willed himself closer to the terminus, changing his position and orientation to get a better view . . .
The vuhl ship had suffered a major explosion where the gouge had been, showing empty space beyond . . . and something else.
The pilot's-board view changed, closing in on the vuhl ship; as they watched, the two parts of the ship—the aft and fore sections—fell apart in an additional explosion, tumbling out of view. Across a space perhaps a kilometer wide was a ragged, irregular patch of stars that did not belong.
Unbidden, an alien word came to his mind: r'r's'kn.
Other stars. The sky was bright with them. Down, down went the rainbow cord, through the r'r's'kn. Down went Byar, following it at an extraordinary speed.
Jackie noted that T'te'e lacked his usual hauteur as he perched beside the High Lord in her esTle'e. She had responded to hi Sa'a's request—actually, it was a command in the form of a request—as quickly as she could, but she had been on the other side of esYen at the time. She expected T't'e'e to upbraid her; instead, he waited silently while she approached.
"hi Sa'a," she said. "se T'te'e."
"We are going to travel the Plane of Sleep," Sa'a said without preamble. As Jackie began to object, the High Lord held her hands up before her. "I realize that you will think this unwise. Nonetheless, it is the only way to reach se Byar."
"Byar? Isn't he off on New Chicago?"
"Yes." The High Lord's wings rose into the Cloak of Guard. "I sense that he is in peril."
Jackie looked from the High Lord to the High Chamberlain, who inclined his wings to indicate that he had acceded to this course of action.
"The Plane of Sleep is unsafe."
"That is why you will guard us, se Gyaryu'har." Sa'a said it as a matter of fact.
Jackie thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and drew the gyaryu. The light from the dome that covered the High Lord's garden reflected off its obsidian blade; just for a moment Jackie thought she saw a flicker of rainbow color. She wasn't sure whether the two zor had seen it, but didn't want to draw attention to it now.
"I'm ready," she said.
Sa'a and T'te'e flew across the Plane of Sleep. Even since her last visit, Sa'a could see changes: Instead of gray, obscuring mists below interrupted by pillared ruins, the terrain had more the feeling of a dark, roiling swamp with clouds of fog hovering above. Things barely perceived and best not seen lurked below the level of the mist; Sa'a had the impression of long tentacles coiled and ready to reach outward.
All around, she could feel the e'gyu'u of the Deceiver. It breathed through every cloud of mist; it twined itself around every upthrust pillar; its voice caressed and whispered in Sa'a's ears as she flew.
One thing reassured her. She could distantly feel the light from the Golden Circle of esLi; now that the Plane of Sleep had been breached, servants of the Circle could reach it as well as esGa'uYal. The hsi of the Golden Legion, trapped in Ur'ta leHssa in the time before the High Nest, walked again in the dreams of the People.
Somewhere ahead she could feel the hsi of Master Byar as it fell through the Plane, pursuing . . . what?
What was Byar trying to reach?
The braided cord descended toward a nearby planet, lit bright-blue by the nearest star. There were uncountable numbers of minds there, filled with hostile, alien thoughts. Too late Byar tried to stop his descent; too late he perceived an alien mind attacking him, surrounding him, smothering him with its thoughts.
=This is interesting,= the mind said. For just a moment, Byar obtained a glance: a clear box filled with gray mist, with a silver sphere floating at the top.
=You wish to understand,= the mind continued. =Understand this: You are not to be destroyed. There is too much potential in you meat-creatures to simply feed you to the k'th's's of the vuhls. Even they do not understand this.
=But they will.=
No, Byar said, his voice very small. His hsi felt as if it was very far away. In the name of esLi, no—
=Oh, yes,= the mind said. =Yes, indeed, e'e'ch'n has brought you here, se Byar. What we learn in the next few vx*tori should help the breeding program immensely.=
A rush of thoughts invaded his mind—a structured plan, ordering humans and the People under the direction of the esHara'y. But the purpose was unseen, and in the talons of esGa'u himself—in the talons of creatures such as the mind that now held him and drew him in toward itself.
It called itself the Ór, and it did not serve the Great Queen but rather guided her toward some purpose that she did not perceive—and might not even understand.
Byar felt himself hurtling toward the surface of the planet. Now, somehow, he felt the wind rush past, the heat of reentry singing his wings, his inner and then outer eyelids closing against the pressure—
"There," Sa'a shouted. From the mist above, extending down into the miasma below, she could see a wingspan-thick rainbow cord. Somewhere nearby she could feel Byar's hsi, and she could sense Byar's distress.
Without stopping to see if T'te'e was following, Sa'a flew at top speed, her hi'chya extended. At the last moment she pulled up, swinging the blade across the cord. Foul sparks ran down the blade as she severed it—
In the lab at the Shiell Institute the alien device began to radiate heat. Byar collapsed from his perch to the floor, unconscious.
In her garden in the High Nest, Sa'a launched herself from the perch where she had been immobile for a sixteenth of a sun, flying at high speed toward the center of her esTle'e. T'te'e HeYen swayed and then opened his eyes.
The gyaryu glowed in Jackie's hands. It might have been simply the way the light from above struck it.
After several seconds Sa'a swept down and landed across from them. Slowly and carefully, she sheathed the hi'chya.
"High Lord?" Jackie asked.
"It is done," she answered, "se Byar is safe." Her wings slumped heavily, as if she had flown eights of kilometers.