"Then how–" Gerryls appeared puzzled.
"Hinev and I worked on the problem a long time." Kiel admitted. "We thought we were close to a solution, but it turned out that the speed of the smaller engine we created was compromised–Selesta would be slower than even the Sesylendae, Hinev's explorer ship.”
“So what did you do?” Derstan wondered.
"Hinev left and told me not to worry–to continue to build the interior from my original designs, that he would solve the problem.” Kiel replied. “And then one day his courier showed up with the engine plan we eventually used.”
"Hinev’s courier brought the engine plan to you?" Kellar laughed, incredulous. "What a miracle."
"The complexity of it superseded anything I had ever seen." Kiel continued. "But I had to figure out how to transform the design into reality–it took a long time. I thanked Hinev for the breakthrough every time he made a progress visit, but he insisted that I take the credit for it. I didn't understand why he wanted to deny his involvement, but he said it would be for the better if the Federation Council believed the engine was mine."
"Hinev must have known how the string functioned the entire time. But–maybe he didn't tell us about it in order to protect us, to keep it a secret from the Seynorynaelian Council." Kellar suggested. "You don't think–he triggered the string to activate at a certain point in time?"
"Hmmm." Gerryls nodded. "I honestly don’t know how he could have known how to do that, but we won't know for sure until we return to ask him. Until then, it only means we have to work on figuring out how the string engine works without his help." Gerryls looked at Alessia, who had remained silent throughout the discussion going on around her. "Alessia, did Hinev ever tell you if he knew about the string engine and how he figured out the tachiyon engine plan?"
Alessia shook her head. "No." She said, using every ounce of will she could summon not to tell them anything else. Kiel had said that Hinev wanted Kiel to receive the credit. Perhaps Hinev had a plan she didn’t know about. And he had not deceived them for selfish reasons–he hadn't exactly claimed the credit for the design himself.
She didn’t say anything else.
* * * * *
Many years later, as the explorers of Selesta figured out how to use the space-tearing engine, they created permanent “centipede” holes across the galaxies.
After more than a thousand civilizations had been found and left behind, the ship Selesta re-emerged from the enlarged centipede hole far short of where its crew had hoped to be. From the stars they calculated the distance traveled in that moment at only 87 light years.
Kiel, Kellar, Vala, and Gerryls returned to their calculations to look for errors. They had figured out how to activate the string engine, but not how to program the duration through hyperspace. And it appeared that the ship was, at least for now, unwilling to create its own centipede holes anywhere in the fabric of space-time. It had waited several days after they attempted to engage the engine to initiate the negative pressure channel.
The string had sensed an atom-sized mini-centipede hole on its own on their course, but it took them where they hadn’t wanted to go. The channel through the centipede hole brought them a little off course, as it took them on a different vector than the one they had been traveling. But the vector lay in a similar direction, and they made a course adjustment, having gained at least a little time over the sub-warp tachiyon engine in the centipede hole channel.
So, it seemed, they had some control over their journey, but not all, and it was impossible to control their journey entirely. It was as if the very universe itself would only permit tears in space-time in certain places.
Kudenka's map of the enlarged centipede holes near their own section of the Great Cluster hadn’t proved very useful since they had warped beyond the map’s surveyed area, but Gerryls seemed to believe that analyzing the distribution of natural mini-centipede holes might prove useful in making calculations for further attempts at centipede hole travel. Alessia thought that the power of Selesta lay in its space-tearing capabilities. Unlike Sesylendae, which could only enlarge and stabilize natural microscopic centipede holes, Selesta could create its own centipede hole channels in space.
The three scientists were so absorbed in their work that Alessia rarely saw any of Gerryls. He neglected his assistant; this fact didn’t upset her, but she did decide to give up her position as his assistant. Gerryls looked up in confusion when she suddenly arrived in his laboratory one day to retrieve her personal experiments, then realized what she was doing, what she intended to do.
"I've been thinking of doing some things on my own," Alessia said and smiled, keeping her eyes away from Kiel, who had not looked up from his schematic. “If you need my help, I won’t be far, but I rather think you have enough assistance now,” she explained.
"I–" Gerryls returned her smile. "Will you be finishing the genetic information analysis of the Limayan3 world and its main species the lavrikars?" he asked.
"Yes." She nodded. "If you'd like to review them, I'll bring them by when they're done."
"After all of this mess is cleared up," he gestured to the blueprint on the lab table, "we'll compile the data for our report."
"Well, I won't keep you," Alessia said, feeling that Gerryls was anxious to return to his work.
"When you're finished, I'd like to review your complete analysis of its life functions." Kiel said suddenly, his eyes turning from his work to her. "It's good that we can count on you as well as some of the others to continue this kind of arduous work, Alessia." He smiled in approval. After a moment, he returned to the blueprint.
Alessia left the laboratory quietly and headed to her quarters. She had spent little time there and used but one of the two rooms. Dropping her belongings onto the empty floor of the second chamber, she made a decision.
Over the next few hours, she set up her own laboratory, not far from one of the nearest botanical gardens. But once she had set everything to rights, she realized that her heart was not in her work, at least not today. The planetary analysis could wait. She gazed around the room when she had done, content that at least the preparation was finished.
She just wanted to forget the present for a time. The only place where she could do that was in the forest–the forest that reminded her of her home at Lake Firien. No one would be there now–they were all busy on the bridge, in the labs, or gathering specimens from the planet they had come to–an uninhabited planetoid in a red star system.
“I’m going to perform a little experiment,” she told the lyra trees around her once she had reached the interior of the Seynorynaelian forest, singling out a sherin tree among them. She closed her eyes and faced the tree, concentrating on the atoms and molecular structure within the sherin tree. When she opened them, a greenish face with stringy green hair greeted her; a look almost of horror had frozen on the face of the plant refashioned in human form. It had a slash of a mouth, brown, leathery skin but a waxy neck and face.
“Well, don’t just stand there staring at me,” she told it, somewhat alarmed that it didn’t look as she imagined. It was humanoid, certainly, but it seemed to be incapable of moving as a human being would, even to blink its eyes, breathe, or stretch its limbs. “Say something.”
The green creature just stared with uncomprehending, vacant red eyes. After a moment, its slash-like mouth popped open, but no sound came from those green lips. Alessia felt overcome by a futile sensation, as though she had been trying to squeeze water from a stone.
“You can’t say anything because you can’t think,” she sighed, feeling a pulling sensation in her thoughts as she mentally struggled to keep the tree-creature before her in the shape she had refashioned for it. Its molecules were fighting to return to tree form, and she hadn’t the heart to keep it from returning to normal. In a moment, she released the hold her power had over the creature and wa
tched as it morphed slowly back into a sherin tree.
“Sorry, tree,” she said, patting the trunk of the tree. The tree of course harbored no grudges. “I wonder, though,” she told it. “I couldn’t make myself change any of your lyra neighbors,” she added, looking about at the undying forest. It was true; no power could compel her to try to impose her power over matter on the lyra trees, though she was at a loss to say why. She thought about doing it again briefly, and found she had to stop, and that she no longer wanted to approach the lyra at that moment…
Alessia left the forest and returned to her room.
* * * * *
Alessia stopped to listen to the scout party's message on her external communicator.
"All pilots, please come to the surface–we're under attack."
After 234 years as Seynorynael measured time, nearing the end of its mission, the crew had stopped on the surface of the fourth planet in a yellow-white star system. From Lierva's earlier reports, the crew had learned that the inhabitants were a variation of type L2ck humanoids, a class of humanoids with skin tones that ranged from pale pink to brown. The planetary population hadn’t noticed the Selesta due to the density wave envelope around the ship that had created an anti-gravitational wave barrier, making the ship's acceleration invisible and impossible to detect beyond the visual range.
However, the inhabitants had apparently noticed the scout party from their orbiting space station and the colonies on their moons. Lierva, Celekar, and their team had only entered the atmosphere a moment before a fleet of fighters arrived to intercept them.
Kiel's instructions had forbidden the Selesta to fire upon the planet. Even one blast from her non-nuclear or anti-matter auxiliary guns might start a reaction that could obliterate life on the surface.
However, neither he nor Lierva had anticipated such a hostile reaction from the aliens. Most of the planets they had visited had allowed the small group of fighters to land and observe, long enough for Lierva and the others to read their thoughts and approach them in the least threatening manner and invite them to join the new Seynorynaelian Federation, at the least to extend a peaceful greeting.
Got to hurry, Alessia thought as she hurried to the main fighter bay where the Valerian fighters were located, and joined the other explorers with piloting experience–nine fighters to add to the eight members of the scout party. Kiel and Kellar, though both former pilots, had remained on board the ship with Talden, attempting negotiations over the communications network, hoping to reach an understanding with the indigenous populations.
Alessia and the others rushed to the scout party, using only gravity-wave missiles to disorient the enemy units–small humanoid shaped mobile units with impressive maneuverability. Luckily, however, nothing the explorers had thus far encountered outmatched the Valerian fighter.
It was only the sheer numbers of the enemy, all intent upon destroying the intruders, that threatened the explorers now.
Alessia had almost reached the scout party when she saw a bright explosion. A hundred or more of the enemy had made it through the gravity wave net and converged upon the apparent leader. Lierva's fighter exploded into the silence of space.
The remaining scout members hurried to join the explorers that had come to their aid; the great speed of the Valerian fighters proved an advantage as the explorers quickly escaped, leaving the aliens behind and all but three of their own number.
Alessia and Celekar had stopped. She watched the aliens coming closer, and knew that the others had left her and Celekar, that they had probably reached Selesta by now.
If they attempted to contact her and urge her to escape, she wasn’t going to acknowledge them. She had a feeling Celekar felt the same way, but he was flying around in circles, oblivious to her.
Alessia couldn’t leave Lierva behind, either.
Finally Kilran's voice reached her from the bridge.
"Alessia! You and Celekar have to leave now! Lierva is gone–what can you do for her? She wouldn't want you to sacrifice yourselves! There’s nothing left of her!"
Alessia had no intention of obliging him. Abandon Lierva?!! She felt the energy surrounding her, a field of sentient energy struggling to rejoin the matter of the universe. Lierva was still there, still able to be saved!! She had been immortal—
But how to save Lierva? Alessia wasn’t sure, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to try to help her!
Alessia cut off all communication with the bridge and closed her eyes, trying to help guide and hasten the energy that converged upon her fighter, willing the sentient mass to reform with control communicative energy, imagining drawing the sentient back together, remembering Lierva Kazenkov as she had been.
Slowly the energy was concentrated behind her. Alessia saw the brightness of it without turning around, without her eyes. Her own sentient energy, every particle of her being, recognized the other form.
Then the light faded and was gone. Alessia wrenched her head around and met Lierva's face, full of understanding and gratitude.
Alessia–I’m fine now.
“Celekar, head for the ship,” Alessia said.
“I’m not leaving,” he insisted, his image forming in the holo-monitor; his hard expression melted into surprise, then relief. “Lierva!” he said, shaking his head. “She’s there again!? I guess how would be the question.”
Lierva offered him a wan smile.
Together, they engaged the engines of their fighters and sped away, avoiding the rampant shots of the aliens until the aliens were far behind them.
* * * * *
"Come with us," Lierva insisted. Alessia could see that it was going to be difficult refusing her new ally. Lierva had come with one purpose in mind to Alessia's laboratory and wore an expression that permitted no refusals. "This is the last planet on our mission before we return to Seynorynael," Lierva repeated. "You'd better cheer up and stop keeping to yourself–"
Alessia looked up, and Lierva felt her indignation.
"I didn't mean it like that." Lierva sighed. "It's just that you're not happy here. What have you got to lose? We need more scouts. You’ll consider it, agreed?"
“Oh, all right!” Alessia erupted, finding Lierva more than a match for herself in stubbornness.
Alessia thought of the image of the planet they had seen, a world the white-skinned humanoid inhabitants called Feiar. The Feiari had promised Lierva's team that they could survey the planet for the Seynorynaelians' records. Their civilization, well advanced culturally and technologically, had already agreed to send delegates to Seynorynael after the scout party finished their survey. Alessia could see Lierva's excitement; the last planet they were to visit was now the first world that wished to send delegates to the Federation right away on board the returning Selesta.
Lierva and Alessia, and Celekar, too, had shared a bond since that day of the disaster on Fu-ni-al-kah. They spent more time talking or going on long runs together in the forest; Lierva had realized that she and Alessia were cut from a similar cloth. Since that day when Alessia saved Lierva’s life, Celekar, Lierva, and Alessia had become good friends.
When Kiel and the other explorers seemed reluctant to believe her affirmation that Alessia had helped her body to reform from the energy into which it had converted to protect its being–the first time any of the crew had experienced the ultimate survival mechanism of Hinev's serum-induced metamorphosis–Lierva explained in no uncertain terms that without Alessia, she would have been lost to them, doomed to wander to the universe as a mass of sentient energy if she hadn’t been brought back then and there to her physical state.
Lierva wasn’t sure how she knew that would have been her fate, but in the state of energy she had felt that she could not escape the energy alone; Hinev’s serum maintained their bodies in a precarious balance between mass and energy, for it was a serum that seemingly defied all natural law
s. In the moment of her restoration to her own physical body, Lierva felt as though she had died and been reborn.
Reborn, Lierva had seen beyond what the others wanted everyone else to see. Things Alessia hadn’t seen.
The experience had been horrible, Alessia gathered, though Lierva wouldn’t talk about what had happened to her when she became only energy.
The one thing Alessia knew was that Lierva had also seen Alessia's defining memories in those unguarded moments. Clear and exposed. She knew that Alessia was protecting Hinev, and yet Lierva had also decided not to tell the others, to keep that knowledge from them as well. There was something to be said for peace of mind, Lierva once said. Alessia didn’t really want to know what she meant, but whatever it was about, Lierva promised not to say anything about what Alessia hadn’t mentioned to the others. Alessia wasn’t absolutely certain, but she got the distinct impression that Lierva also had strong feelings for Hinev.
And that Lierva’s feelings were strong enough that she was willing to forgive him; at the same time, Lierva didn’t believe that Celekar would. The others Lierva didn’t know about.
“Oh, one more thing,” Lierva said, wearing a furtive smile.
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget to pack whatever you’ll need for an extended foray on the surface.”
“How long are we staying?”
“Who knows? Ten days, a year, ten years, and different years for every planet. Does it really matter?”
“No,” Alessia laughed. “Lierva–”
The older, athletic woman stopped and turned around in the doorway.
“You loved Hinev.”
Lierva laughed; her laugh held a note of amusement.
“Yes.”
“But Celekar–”
“Knows.” Lierva admitted, coming back. “He’s known since Hinev left Firien.” Lierva’s tone wasn’t bitter, but it was clear that there had been difficulties surrounding Hinev’s departure.
“Hinev couldn’t stay.” Alessia guessed.
“Apparently not.”
“But–how can you love two men at the same time?”