magnitude.
Well, at least now we know — we weren’t at fault for what happened to the Fractal World. Gillian will find that comforting, I guess.
Dr. Baskin clearly felt guilty over contributing to the havoc that had struck the vast, frail shell of hydrogen ice, crushing billions of inhabitants when it collapsed. It had seemed to be a direct result of Streaker’s presence — like a snake corrupting Eden. But Sara’s evidence now pointed to natural phenomena, ponderously inevitable, as impersonal as an earthquake. Far more unstoppable than a hurricane.
No wonder so many other refugee arks joined our convoy. Delicate criswell structures must be shattering all over the Five Galaxies, forcing members of the Retired Order to choose quickly whether to rejoin oxy-civilization or transcend to the next level … or else stay where they are, and die.
Unable to bear even a brief separation from the Embrace of Tides, many chose to remain huddled next to their little red suns, even as the continuum shivered around them, crushing their brittle, icy homes into evaporating splinters.
Looking down at the brilliantly compact white dwarf, Sara wondered. Would the same worsening conditions also affect this crowded realm — where sparkling needle shapes whirled quickly around a superdense star? It was a far mightier place than the Fractal World, occupied by ancient, revered races, combining the best of hydrogen and oxygen cultures.
Surely members of the Transcendent Order must know what’s coming. We are like ants compared to such wise beings. They’ll have means of protecting themselves during the Time of Changes.
It was a reassuring thought.
Unfortunately, Sara could not keep from worrying.
She worried about the Buyur.
Her news got a sober reception at the next staff meeting. Even when Sara exonerated Streaker from the Fractal World tragedy, Dr. Baskin seemed more concerned with understanding what might happen next.
“You’re saying that all these disruptions are a natural result of the expansion of the universe?”
“That’s right,” Sara replied. “The spacetime metric — including the underlying ylem — stretches and weakens, eventually reaching a fracture point. Domain boundaries abruptly snap and reconnect. A bit like pressure building underground for release in a quake. So-called threads, or flaws in the original matrix, can be pinched off, turning transfer points into useless maelstroms, isolating whole sectors, quadrants, or even galaxies.”
The older woman shook her head. “Cosmic expansion has been going on for sixteen billion years. Why should all this come to a sudden head now?”
The Niss Machine interjected at that point.
“The simple answer to your question is that this occurrence … is not unique.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this sort of thing has happened before.
“Let me illustrate by asking a question, Dr. Baskin. Does this symbol have any meaning to you?”
Sara watched an image take shape above the conference table — a complex form with thirteen spiral rays and four ovals, all overlaid.
Gillian blinked for a moment. Then her mouth pinched in a sour expression. “You know damn well it does. Tom found it engraved on those strange ships we discovered in the Shallow Cluster … the so-called Ghost Fleet that got us in trouble the minute we laid eyes on it.”
Bowing its funnel of nested lines politely, the Niss Machine continued.
“Then surely you recall one possibility we discussed — that the Ghost Fleet might represent emissaries from an entirely different civilization? One completely apart from our five linked galaxies. Perhaps an expedition that had crossed hundreds of megaparsecs of flat, open space to reach us from a quite different nexus of life?”
The Niss waited for Gillian to nod.
“Well, I can now refute that guess. It is not true.
“Rather, those ships come from our past … a past when more than five galaxies made up this nexus- association.”
A water-filled tube ran along one wall of the conference room, where Akeakemai slashed his broad tail, causing a storm of bubbles to swirl around his sleek gray body. With Lieutenant Tsh’t under arrest, he was now the senior dolphin aboard — an honor that clearly made him nervous.
“M-mo-more? You mean there were once — sssseventeen galaxiessss?”
“Seventeen, aye. Of which several were elliptical types, as well as thirteen spirals. However, a while later — (the records are vague on exact timing) — there appear to have been eleven … and then seven … and finally the five we know today.”
Silence reigned. Finally, although his cyborg visage remained mirror smooth, Hannes Suessi stammered.
“But — but how could we not already know about something so … something so …”
“Something so huge? So epochal and traumatic? I believe your own state of shocked surprise is a clue. Each such loss would have struck hard at the normally placid, deeply conservative society of the time. In fact, the waves of disruption that Sage Koolhan just described must have been even worse in those earlier episodes, wreaking untold havoc and ruin. Survivors would have been busy for ages, picking up the pieces.
“Now suppose older, wiser spirits asserted themselves during the aftermath, taking control over the Great Library through those crucial centuries, it would not require much effort to erase and adjust appropriate archive entries … or divert blame for the chaos onto more mundane culprits. Say, the Zang, or criminal oxy-clans, or a breeding-explosion by machine life-forms.”
“But how could they conceal the loss of whole galaxies!”
“That may have been easier than it seems. The last time this happened on a large scale — the Gronin Collapse — there followed hardly any mention of lost territories, because the Migration Institute had already prepared by—”
Sara stood up.
“By evacuating them!”
She turned to address Gillian and the others.
“The Transcendents must have known in advance, two hundred thirty million years ago. They ordered abandonment of the two galaxies they were about to lose, before the rupture took place.” She stared into space. “This explains the mystery about Galaxy Four! Why all of that spiral was recently assigned fallow status, forcing all oxygen-breathing starfarers to depart. It wasn’t for reasons of ecological management, but because they sensed another split coming!”
The Niss hologram shrugged, as if it all seemed obvious now. The entity made no apologies for taking so long to catch on.
“Clearly, the higher orders of life have either confided in or manipulated senior officials of the Great Institutes, so the governing bodies of oxy-civilization would make preparations.”
“But there’s so much we still don’t understand!” Sara objected. “Why must the affected galaxy be emptied of starfarers? How does all this affect the other life orders? What does it—”
Gillian Baskin interrupted.
“I’m sure you will help us pierce those veils as well, Sage Koolhan. Meanwhile, this news is disturbing enough. When you said a galaxy was about to split off, I thought you meant the one containing Earth — the Milky Way. That might help explain why our planet was isolated for so long. And why we created such commotion when we finally made contact.”
The Niss answered with some of its old patronizing tone.
“With all due respect, Dr. Baskin, do curb your innate human tendency toward solipsism. Despite some petty excitement caused by this little ship, the universe does not revolve around your kind.”
Sara found the rebuke snide and unfair. But Gillian accepted it with a nod.
Suessi reported on efforts to cast off the ship’s transparent sheath, an armor layer that once had protected it against devastating weapons, but now seemed a death shroud. It had proved nearly fatal just two hours ago, when Streaker tried to depart the white dwarf’s funnel-like gravity well, sneaking away from the swarm of “candidates for transcendence.”
