Time Past (35 page)

Normally, jump points weren’t detectable unless they were in use. When a ship entered, for a second only they sent out one sharp burst of radiation, which then ended as smoothly as a closing door cuts off the light. So why this uncharacteristic surge from the jump point two days after we left?

Think, think. I seemed to have exhausted all my mental energy working with
Farseer.
The semi-reclining chair was too comfortable. I stood up, tapped off the monitor, and paced up and down the line of booths. There were no other users on this side of the room, nobody to poke their head out of a booth and glare at me.

A stable jump point never leaked radiation after the point closed. Which indicated that the jump point Murdoch and I came through might have destabilized for some reason two days after we left. The type of radiation mentioned in the report seemed right. Had An Serat or one of the other Invidi in 2023 tried to follow us and for some reason the point destabilized? Or had they deliberately made it impossible for anyone to follow us? That would be my guess, unless... another big “if,”
Farseer
’s Tor components helped to destabilize the point.

If that ninety-nine-year jump point was destroyed or made unusable, and if the correspondence was consistent, in another day the same thing would happen to that point at this end. We could expect a major burst of radiation from the place where we appeared in
Farseer.

So how, then, did
Calypso
use a jump point in 2027 that didn’t exist anymore because it destabilized in 2023? Maybe it still existed and the radiation surge was due to a different reason. We were still left with the contradiction in the correspondences between
Calypso
’s ninety-five year jump and our ninety-nine-year jump.

Was it not more likely... I stopped pacing and groped for the thought, my hand literally groping in air. More likely that there were two sets of jump points? One with a ninety-five-year correspondence from 2027 to early 2122, and one with a ninety-nine-year correspondence from late 2122 to 2023. The first one
Calypso
used. The second,
Calypso II,
Murdoch’s ship, and
Farseer
used. The latter would destablize somehow and the former would be opened by An Serat when he sent
Calypso
in 2027.

I remembered how
Farseer
had seemed to pass the coordinates where I’d appeared. Maybe it entered a different point.

I groaned in frustration and left the library to get a Con-Fleet dress uniform from the Uniform Recycling Center at the edge of the Bubble. The uniform Eleanor had given me when we arrived back on Jocasta must have been old and much-recycled, because the retardant stuck stubbornly to the material in a whitish film. I might as well wear the correct clothing to Florida’s dinner—don’t want to insult the Council delegates. Hopefully I’d get a chance to talk to Florida about the neutrality vote. I could slip away and go up to Level Three to continue with
Farseer
halfway through the dinner.

“Don’t know if we’ve got any in your size.” The clerk, a delicately boned Achelian, looked me over and narrowed her huge pupils. Her long claws clicked on the touch pads of the interface panel.

“Make one,” I suggested.

She twitched her ears and the claws moved slower.

“We’re busy today. When do you want it?”

“Now.”

This time her eyes opened so wide they took up half her face.

“Now?” she squeaked. “You can’t have it
now.
Regulations clearly stipulate you must apply for a day uniform three shifts in advance, dress uniform, six.”

“I wasn’t here the day before yesterday and I need the uniform tonight, so find one.” “You’ll have to file a special request form from your supervisor.”

I took a deep breath. “I do not have a supervisor. I am the ranking ConFleet officer on this station and I want a dress uniform
now.
”

She laid back her ears in doubt.

I reached across the counter to slap my palm on the recognition pad. The screen obediently displayed my name, rank, position—which was “pending”—and a head and shoulders image that dated from three or four years back, judging from the lack of gray hair.

“Oh, sorry,” she whined. “I didn’t know, did I?” “Just give me the uniform. Make sure you put Engineering Corps insignia on it.” She rolled her eyes in a deliberate mimicry of human gesture.

The dress uniform was a dark red material, softer than the normal stiff, navy-blue ConFleet suit, but with a higher collar. Now that the Engineering Corps no longer used the maroon color, they’d taken it for the dress uniform.

I changed in the bathroom of the senior officers lounge in the Bubble and shoved my retardant-soaked uniform down the recycling shaft. Strange that the official-looking figure in the mirror should have been only yesterday living in a tent in a slum one hundred years ago. Yet when I shut my eyes, I could see the crumbling edges of the outtown’s runoff ditches and smell the refuse. Which was the dream?

The collar showed ConFleet rank bars on one side and the star-and-bridge of the old Engineering Corps on the other. Both insignia stood out from the fabric like silver brocade. I ran my fingers through my hair, noted vaguely that it was getting too long and much grayer, and went off to the dinner.

First I checked, via a handcom connection, the progress of my mapping of
Farseer
’s systems. Slow, far too slow. At least another hour before I could make even an educated guess where the gate connections were. And I didn’t have time to waste looking in the wrong place.

In the new observation lounge on Level Three, the corridor for a whole section on one side of the spoke had been converted into an observation lounge, the section next to it into a dining room. The gravity field was active, so we would stand with our feet toward the core and gaze at the stars and the rest of the station through the ceiling. Two security guards stood at either end to divert passersby around the long way or through the dock access on the space side. Down in Alpha ring two more guards stood at the uplift entry to make sure we didn’t get any uninvited guests, and to direct the uplift straight to the center without stopping at any of the spokes. And Murdoch had said he’d keep a couple of his people at the entries to the observation lounge during the dinner.

All in all, a well-considered entertainment effort and one, I conceded reluctantly, I’d never have thought of myself.

When I arrived the observation lounge was empty. Through the wide doorway into the next section, waiters and serving droids readied the food. I sat in a low chair and leaned my head back. Above, the pale arms of the rings encircled me, reflectors glinting in the unseen sun so their long expanses seemed gilded. On my left the spoke loomed and then diminished rapidly to a slim line intersecting the gold. The whole scene crawled with the movement of tiny shapes—ESVs, shuttles, scooters, communication pods. Beyond the rings further shapes moved, some no more than points of light trailing against the unmoving stars.

Leaving aside any foolish jealousy about Stone taking over, I still felt out of place. As though a part of me— some large, sharp-cornered part—could no longer fit with things here. They didn’t need me here anymore. My hands, spread on my knees, seemed out of place on the rich red material; bony, flat-tipped fingers with bitten nails, square palms, the backs flecked with tiny scars I hadn’t bothered to get erased over the years, newer scars from the twenty-first century.

The doors swished open.

“Here we are.” Dan Florida strode into the room, circling his arm in a flourish to the dignitaries behind him. “And here’s Commander Halley, enjoying the view without us.”

There seemed to be more of them than I’d met in Alpha ring. The five Dir had multiplied to more than a dozen, including invitees from Jocasta’s Dir community, dressed in a variety of guild colors. Several more Leowin, also, and the two Achelians I met had each acquired a couple of escorts.

The Earth representative, Sarkady, was talking to Stone as she came in. He was resplendent in a high-collared, long-skirted jacket in pale gray and she had changed her bright dress for another embroidered with threads of gold and silver.

I remembered Veatch’s prediction—we’d get votes from Achel and Dir, but not Earth. And he didn’t mention the Leowin. If they hated the K’Cher, they might even vote yes.

I shook Sarkady’s plump, moist hand again. “Good evening, Councilor.”

When she smiled, her eyes disappeared into her cheeks. “Good evening, Commander. I didn’t recognize you.”

Stone nodded shortly. Probably still mad about us taking his Invidi toy. I made a mental note to ask Murdoch where he put it.

Lorna deVries appeared in the doorway as we tried to find the right places at the round dinner table. She waved excitedly at me until I joined her.

“A courier just came from Central,” she said in a low voice. “I received orders and I bet Stone did, too.”

“From Earth?”

“Yes. I’m to make sure you’re given no exit permit. And the Adjudicate’s Office wants an opinion drafted on Murdoch’s charges.” She tugged one of my sleeves down absentmindedly. “Halley, they’re serious about this.”

“I know. I’m feeling more trapped every minute. Can I make my asylum application now?”

“If that’s what you want. But it’s a big step. ConFleet won’t want you back afterward.”

“They’ll court-martial me if I stay. Make the application.”

“All right. You’ll have to come and voice-print it.”

“That’s okay. I’m not staying here long.”

She grinned. “And you so fond of social gatherings. What a waste of a nice dress uniform.”

“Oh, be quiet. Look, here’s your place. And I’m over there near the door. How considerate of them.”

We sat down and waited for the speeches.

Stone bowed neatly as all eyes turned to him. “Welcome to Jocasta,” he said smoothly. “We are honored to welcome such a distinguished group of guests, both from the Confederacy Council and from our residents here, to Earth’s only extra-system station.”

Lorna caught my eye again but I looked away. If she wasn’t going to mention the neutrality issue, neither would I.

“As you can see,” continued Stone, “Jocasta is a valuable asset for the people of Earth, and our government has invested in it a great amount of resources, time, and personnel. I hope you will enjoy your time here, and please do not hesitate to bring any questions to me or my staff.”

Florida fielded the ball neatly. “Thank you, Mr. Stone. I’m honored that the councilors accepted my invitation to visit the station. The residents of Jocasta certainly owe a great debt to Earth’s government and EarthFleet in particular. Who among us could forget their valiant efforts to defend the station when the Seouras ships invaded this space?”

“Hear, hear,” said deVries.

Florida inclined his head in her direction. “The time has come to revise this relationship to meet the changing needs of our population. This population, as the honored delegates saw today, now consists of mainly nonhumans. The station’s decision-making processes must be rebalanced to reflect this. We do not feel that Earth can take responsibility for our fate—we must do this ourselves.”

The reaction from the listeners was lukewarm, by any standards. Only deVries nodded and smiled. Veatch looked faintly disapproving, as always. Quertianus the Dir shook his head and the Achelian, Reo, muttered to himself and counted something on long, spidery fingers. Sarkady had kept the same interested expression on her face and I wondered if she’d gone to sleep with her eyes open. Trillith, the K’Cher trader, ignored Florida and persisted in talking to the Leowin, Amartidjar. They both sat, or leaned, at places set closest to the door.

Florida must have sensed he was losing his audience. “I would like to ask you to join me in an old human tradition, the toast.” He lifted his glass. “To the future. May it be fair and prosperous.”

“To the future,” echoed Lorna.

Most of the diners raised their glasses, having either lived with humans or knowing of the custom.

I sipped a mouthful of champagne. The future—may it always be unseen.

The civilian waiters and an EarthFleet corporal served the delicacies appropriate to each species, moving between the round table and two laden benches by the other door. The light was soft, like candlelight without flickers. The level of conversation rose.

On one side of me Trillith leaned on a K’Cher stool far out from the table. On the other side, one of the Achelian diplomats waited while his escort sorted his food.

I fiddled with a fork. Lorna caught my eye from across the table. She raised her eyebrow in query and I glanced half over my shoulder at the door. I could go now. Lorna rolled her eyes.
Already?
the look said.

I wanted to go. The mixed aromas of the food and alien scents, the complex buzz of conversation, and tiredness all conspired to addle my thoughts. I’d be much happier in the dock with
Farseer,
waiting for results from the system mapping.

Trillith shifted its entire body beside me. I glanced sideways and saw with shock that its torso was mottled pale gray. Across the table Veatch also stared at Trillith, antennae stiff with worry. His hands slid off the table onto his lap.

The door whooshed open. Guttural voices echoed in the corridor.

When the Bendarl captain stepped through the door, I knew we’d lost.

Twenty-seven

“
I
am arrived.”

The captain stomped into the room. Two more Bendarl in ConFleet uniforms followed her, fanning out to cover us with hand weapons.

I had no weapon, dress uniform allowed none. No use trying to contact Murdoch, who was probably in Main Security. Communications would be the first system to go. Using the dinner was a neat ploy—collect the valuable delegates in one place to prevent any “accidents.” Damn, damn, damn. Fear and fury set me shaking all over.

Behind them, a different form. Tall, silver-suited, his tentacles swaying, an Invidi. An Barik had come home— I had watched his suit so carefully for so many years that I knew it instantly. He rolled soundlessly into the middle of the room beyond the table and waited while the Bendarl did their routine.