Timegods' World (17 page)

Authors: L.E. Modesitt Jr.

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy

BOOK: Timegods' World

7.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I caught a glimpse of the pressure suits, interspersed with racks and racks of equipment I failed to recognize. In the gloom beyond the equipment racks, one object’s general shape caught my attention, as much for its massiveness as for its purpose. A laser-cannon, or as near to it as possible. Supposedly, only a handful had ever been built because of the immense power demands. Now, it had to be useless without the broadcast power satellites.

Deric just stood there, not exactly barring my entry, but clearly indicating that I was not going to be allowed to wander through the entire equipment bunker.

So I just gazed around, and nodded. “Very impressive. Very impressive.” Then I stepped back. “Anything else down here I should know about?”

“No. Not really. Down the other corridor are the disciplinary cells that were used before the Westron Monarchy. They were never removed when the structure was converted.”

“Back for dinner, then?”

“I’ll show you the dining area on the way back to your quarters. You’ll have a little time to wash up. Evening meal is around 1800 for us.”

“Fine.” The ConFeds ate earlier, and my stomach was growling already.

The way back to my quarters was almost the same as the way we had come.

“You can take the walkway across, and those stairs …”

“If I take them now, and cross there … that will lead back to my room?”

“Exactly.”

“And the facilities—showers?”

“Oh … I forgot. Just at the end of the hallway from your room.”

“Do I just walk into dinner?”

“Yes. I’m afraid we don’t have much ceremony. Your name has been posted, and the cook will expect you.” Deric straightened, cleared his throat. “I do have one or two things to do . .”

“I understand, and I can find my way back without any problem. Thank you very much.”

“It was my pleasure.”

He didn’t sound convinced, and I’d just have to find out why.

XXVI

THE DINING SECTION of the quarters building appeared more like a restaurant than a military establishment—light wooden shutters on the inside of the windows and cloths on the dozen or so tables.

When I stepped through the double doors, I could see only five people—Deric and four others, three women and one man—all standing by a circular table.

“Sammis.” Deric called.

“Deric.” Nodding my head, I stepped toward the five. Except for Deric, I had met none of them. As I crossed the ten steps that separated us, the aroma of peffin filled my nostrils.

“Sammis, I’d like you to meet several of your fellow-travelers.” Deric nodded toward a muscular red-headed woman. “This is Mellorie.”

Mellorie’s smile was instantaneous, and genuine, especially compared to Deric’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Sammis.”

“It’s nice to be here.”

“This is Arlean, who runs the math and information section … and Gerloc, who found Sertis … and Amenda, who was our last brand-new traveler until the doctor found you.”

Arlean looked like a librarian, with a narrow face and sharp eyes that
missed nothing. Her smile was pleasant and showed even white teeth.

“Pleased …” Gerloc was about the same height as me, but rail thin, almost frail. His voice was deep, and contrasted with his sparse and wispy blond hair.

Amenda, slender and dark-haired, and half a head taller than me, nodded politely, but said nothing.

“The uniform … ?” asked Arlean, the mathematical librarian.

“Recruited straight from the ConFeds, Lady, with nothing to my name but uniforms.”

“Looks like he’s in shape, Arlean.” Gerloc’s tone was not quite mocking. “Arlean’s always complaining that none of the male divers have enough muscle to carry all the monitoring equipment necessary.”

I tried not to frown.

“Arlean is the one who coordinates the out-system data. Her library science background comes in handy,” explained Deric.

Again, I had trouble understanding the continued obsession with data. Some of it made sense—like a general catalogue of the habitable or visitable plants and whether the air was breathable and the level of gravity. But collecting mountains of data when our entire civilization was falling in shards around us … ? When an unseen Enemy had leveled most of the cities? When every freeman’s hand was set against education and knowledge and the gentry whom they held responsible for the disaster?

“You look rather doubtful … is it … Sammis?” Mellorie’s voice was low, husky, and warm, far more sultry in a friendly way than I would have expected.

“I suspect I am.”

“You’re no farm boy ConFed, either.”

“Mellorie, please introduce yourself to Sammis slowly,” Deric suggested, with an edge to his tone. The edge bordered on a whine.

“I’m sorry, Deric.” She curtsied to him and returned her glance to me. “Would you care to join us—Gerloc and Amenda and me—for dinner tonight?”

“I’d be honored.”

“Enjoy your dinner, Sammis,” added Deric. “I trust you will not mind if I occasionally introduce you to someone else.”

“Not at all, Deric. Thank you again for the tour.”

“Tour? Deric actually took the time to show you around?” Amenda’s voice was low, though not as husky or low as Mellorie’s.

“It was brief,” I explained. “Just these two buildings, really.”

“Still … ?”

“We should pick a table and sit down, even if we are to be saddled with peffin after all.” Gerloc’s tone was resigned.

Peffin stew or casserole sounded wonderful after ConFed slop. “Is it that bad?”

“No,” answered Mellorie with a low laugh. “But Greffin serves it so often. But we’ve been eating it once every five days for more than a year.”

That was a bit frequent for something as spicy as peffin stew. On the other hand, it was my first meal prepared with any care in nearly a year—or more.

Amenda pulled out one of the chairs at a circular table set for four.

I offered the chair across from her to Mellorie.

“Like I said, no ConFed farm boy.”

I ignored the implication and sat on her left, facing the main doors, with Amenda on my left.

Gerloc took the last chair and sat, brushing his wispy blond hair off his high forehead after he edged his chair into place. “You’re not obligated to tell us anything, Sammis, but we are curious …”

I took a sip of the water in the glass before me. “There’s really not much to say. Born and raised in Bremarlyn, went to the Academy, escaped from the ConFeds who fired my family’s house, escaped from the looters, and ended up being impressed by another group of ConFeds. When Dr. Relorn decided to test for … mental travel talent … I showed up as having it.”

Mellorie nodded. “I thought so.”

“Thought what, Mellorie?” asked Amenda.

“What I thought … that Sammis came from a good family and a solid background. Besides, he looks like a traveler.”

“Old-style …” added Gerloc in a softer voice.

“I have been called witch-spawn, or worse.” I had the feeling Mellorie had more to say, but had held her tongue.

Amenda shivered, as if the term were all too familiar.

Mellorie nodded.

Over her shoulder, I saw another threesome enter the dining area, none of whom I recognized, since neither of the two women happened to be Dr. Relorn.

“How would I put this … ?” Gerloc’s voice was softer, pitched not to carry beyond the table. “Your … shall we say … experience level … ?”

“I don’t know. No basis for comparison.” Gerloc might be friendly, but I was reluctant to blurt out anything. “I can travel from point to
point on Query. Too much travel burns a lot of energy, though.”

Gerloc opened his mouth.

“I certainly have no experience in travelling to the stars or other planets. You discovered someplace called Sertis? Could you tell me about it?”

Gerloc closed his mouth, then took a sip of water.

Mellorie chuckled. “Guess what, Gerloc? He listens.”

With a sheepish grin, Gerloc looked at Mellorie, then back at me. “I gather I don’t have much choice.”

“You’re right. You don’t,” said Amenda pleasantly.

“I’ll skip the details of how I stumbled onto Sertis, because they’re in the notebooks you’ll be reading. I’m pretty limited in terms of how far back or forward I can travel—seems to be in the neighborhood of fifteen hundred to two thousand years back and about half that forward. The forward side is always shady. That’s because of the uncertainty factors, I gather …”

“You might try getting to the point …” Mellorie’s voice was friendly.

“I will. I am simply not as direct as you are, Mellorie.” Gerloc took another swallow and cleared his throat. “The point to which dear Mellorie refers is that Sertis doesn’t change. The buildings are occasionally modified, but the population and technology are always the same, at least as far as any of us have been able to tell.”

I frowned. “Does that mean we’re different? Or they are?”

“They are.” That was Mellorie. “We’ve found half a dozen other cultures out there, and they change. Dramatically, sometimes within local decades.”

I was still frowning. So what difference did it make whether one culture on another planet in another solar system was stable?

“You look even more displeased, Sammis.” Amenda’s voice was softer, less persistent than Mellorie, yet removed.

“I’m new here.” I swallowed, then spit out what I shouldn’t have said. “Everything I hear still sounds like a research project. All very interesting, but so what? We’ve been destroyed by an unseen enemy, and our entire civilization is crashing around us, and we’re gathering data?”

Now Amenda and Gerloc were the ones frowning.

I found myself wiping my forehead with the cloth napkin, a true social blunder, but sweat was oozing from my forehead, despite the room’s coolness.

“Salads here.” With that a waitress set a bowl before each of us.

“Thank you.” My response was automatic.

The silence around the table lengthened as the waitress departed with a nod to me. No one else said anything. So I took a bite of the salad. Even with bitter reddish leaves interspersed with some mushrooms and wild onions, it was refreshing.

“What would you do, then?” Mellorie asked.

“I’m scarcely in charge,” I mumbled with a mouth half-full of leaves and crunchy mushrooms that tasted of nut-bark.

“That’s begging the question. You raised it.”

Gerloc and Amenda looked from Mellorie to me, and back, as if they were watching a contest.

“Something useful.”

Mellorie looked ready to snap back, when she smiled over my shoulder.

“May I interrupt?” Deric’s question was only half-whine.

“Of course,” Mellorie’s voice dripped syrup.

I turned, caught a glimpse of a woman and found myself standing and bowing. The old traditions don’t die.

“Sammis, I believe you know Dr. Relorn. I just wanted to reassure her that you had in fact arrived and were enjoying our hospitality.”

“Everyone has been most hospitable, Deric. Most hospitable.” I inclined my head toward my tablemates.

The doctor nodded politely under the makeup designed to make her look like an older woman trying to look young. “I’m glad to see you have been so well received, Sammis. Although I have interrupted an animated conversation, I do not intend to take much of your time.”

“It’s good to see you, Doctor, outside the testing laboratory, and I appreciate your efforts. Very much.” I bowed slightly, again.

“He’s quite the gentry, Doctor, isn’t he?” observed Deric.

“I believe he is, Deric. But he also survived the ConFeds.” She turned back to face me. “I hope you will enjoy working with us.”

“I’m certain I will, Doctor, especially under your direction.” I could have bitten my tongue for the last, particularly with Mellorie hanging on every word, but old habits die hard.

“Enjoy your dinner.” With that, she and Deric turned and headed toward a table set for two.

I sat down.

“Can you doubt he’s gentry born after that?” Amenda said to Gerloc.

“It was quite a performance, Sammis.” The corners of Mellorie’s mouth were twisted in a wry gesture.

I took the last mouthful of salad.

“Do you wish to honor us with your suggestions for what the laboratory should do amidst our crumbling culture?”

I set down my glass. “Pure knowledge isn’t much help when you’re facing someone armed with a riot gun or a crossbow. Within seasons, unless things change, we’ll be out of both ammunition, arms, and food, with no way to resupply ourselves.”

“So what do you want us to do?”

“I’ve been here one day, and I’m supposed to supply an answer?”

“That’s good enough for now, I think.” Mellorie’s voice had turned much softer. “You’re right. We see it too, but we don’t have an answer either.”

Amenda was suddenly looking at her nearly untouched salad.

Gerloc shrugged.

“You see, Sammis,” continued Mellorie, “we don’t have many action-oriented travelers left. Most of them left when the riots started.”

I understood. All too well. Those who had remained were the cautious ones, the scared ones, or those with no place to go. I understood all right. I was just like them. “I understand.”

“As a ConFed?” Amenda’s tone was gentle.

“There are ConFeds, and there are ConFeds,” noted Mellorie in a voice so low as to be little more than a whisper.

I ignored her observation. I didn’t want to distinguish between Odin Thor’s ConFeds and the ones that fired my home. “I understand—even as a ConFed. I didn’t have much choice, you know. No family, no friends, and every time I opened my mouth I was tagged as gentry.”

“You survived, though. That means you’re not exactly as helpless—”

“Here is the famous peffin casserole,” announced the waitress.

I still couldn’t believe that the Far Travel Laboratory had cooks and serving personnel. The waitress wasn’t young, probably in her early fifth decade, but she carried the casserole dish with authority and placed it in the center of the table, laying two serving utensils beside it.

“I’ll serve,” announced Amenda. “Sammis?”

I handed over my platter, glad to have escaped, even momentarily, the questions that Mellorie kept throwing at me.

“Gerloc?”

Thuddd …

“LAZY BOORNIKS. MISERABLE GENLOVERS! MOTHER-SWILLS!”

The shouts would have roused the damps, let alone the modest dining area. I found myself turning and on my feet, recognizing the voice.