Timelike Infinity

The future Qax must have been expecting the visitation from the past, of course. Perhaps some of the Qax alive in Parz’s time would still be conscious and able to remember the launch.

At last the day of the ship’s scheduled return to future Earth — the day on which the portal would begin to function as a time tunnel to the future — had come; and Parz had been joined in his silent vigil beneath Virtuals of the stationary Jovian icosahedron by an unseen congregation of millions. All over the Earth, and through the rest of the Occupied system, humans had watched the twinkling icosahedron with a mixture of fascination and dread.

Then, at last, the bursts of exotic particles from the wormhole terminus…

'I guess,' Parz said slowly, 'I feel something of what Michael Poole, the builder of the first Interface, must have gone through as he waited for his project to come to fruition.' But that first Interface project had, as Parz understood it, been initiated in the hope of filching some knowledge from future generations of mankind — and to test out the science of spacetime and exotic physics — and, Parz guessed, for the sheer, exuberant hell of it. A working time machine, in orbit around Jupiter? If you can build it, why the hell not?

Poole must have anticipated the opening of his wormhole with joy. Not feared it, as Parz had done.

'Yes,' the Qax said reflectively. 'And now—'

And now the Virtual image of the icosahedron exploded; darkness flecked with gold rained over Parz and he cried out, curled over on himself, cringing.

The Governor was silent; in Parz’s ears there was only the ragged din of his own breath.

After long seconds Parz found the will to raise his head. The Virtual of the portal was still there, with the crack of Jovian light alongside it…

But now, before the portal, hovered a single ship. A bolt of night-darkness, erupted through the blue-gray face of the portal. The surface of the spacetime discontinuity still quivered seconds after the passage, sending distorted echoes of Jupiter’s pink glow over the Governor’s seething globe of Qax ocean.

The ship from the future spread wings like a bird’s, a hundred miles wide. Night-dark canopies loomed over Parz.

'I am awed, Qax,' Parz said, his voice a whisper.

'No less I. Parz, the grace of this ship, the use of the sheet-discontinuity drive — all characteristics of Xeelee nightfighter technology.'

Xeelee… Parz felt his fear transmute into almost superstitious horror, that suddenly Xeelee might be made aware of the existence of humanity.

'But this is a Qax ship, nevertheless,' the Governor said. 'I have received call signatures… My successors must fare well in the centuries to come, to gain such an access to Xeelee technology.'

'You must be proud,' Parz said sourly. His heart still pounded, but already his fear was lapsing into irritation at the Qax’s complacency.

'The wings are actual sheet-discontinuities in spacetime,' the Governor babbled on. 'Motive power for the ship is provided by a nonlinear shear of spacetime — much as acoustical shock waves will propagate themselves through an atmosphere, once formed. And—'

'Enough.'

Parz’s breath caught in his throat. The new voice, which had come booming from the translator box that rested on the platform beside him, was feminine; but where the Governor’s synthetic voice was breathless, shallow, and fast-speaking, the new voice was deep and heavy, almost harsh.

The Governor said, almost girlishly, 'I hear your voice. Who are you?'

'I am Qax.'

The Governor said, 'I do not recognize you.'

'That should not surprise you. I traveled through the wormhole Interface from your future. I am not yet sentient in this local frame.'

'Sir,' Parz said, determined not to show any awe or fear, 'I’ve got used to a Qax being laid out on the scale of miles, like the Governor and his fragment of mother-sea up there. But the body of your ship is much smaller. How can the awareness of a Qax be contained in such a constricted space?'

'Many things will change in the coming centuries,' the newcomer said. 'Many Qax will die, and many more will be formed; very few of the Qax now sentient will survive. And the forms that support our sentience will become greatly more varied. No longer will the Qax be able to afford the luxury of the ancient aquatic form; the Qax, scattered across the stars, must find new ways to survive.'

Parz could scarcely believe the implications of these words. 'Qax, what are you saying? What happens to the Qax? What is it that humans do to you?'

'First answer my question,' the Governor cut in, and Parz thought he could detect a note of pleading, of aggrieved pride, in the synthesized voice. 'Why did you not inform me of your approach? And why do we converse through this human translator box? We are Qax. We are brothers. Our forms may differ, but surely we can still communicate as the Qax have always done.'

'I want Jasoft Parz to hear and understand all that occurs here,' the new Qax said. 'Later, I will require his cooperation.'

Parz took an uneasy step back, feeling the edge of the metal platform under his feet. 'You know me?'

Again a primitive awe rose in him, threatening to overwhelm him, as if he were some savage confronted by a shaman. But how could a Qax from five centuries into the future know of his existence? But of course it does, he thought, a tinge of insanity bubbling in his thoughts. The Qax is from the future; it knows everything about this sequence of events. It’s probably watched this scene play itself out a dozen times…

'Jasoft Parz, bear witness.'

Parz looked up.

Light, cherry-red, lanced through the hull of the Spline, a geometrically perfect line that pierced the heart of the Governor’s ocean-globe. The flesh of the Spline peeled back from the wound, bubbling into immense blisters, and Parz was afforded a brief glimpse of space. The nightfighter ship’s Virtual image broke up into a cloud of pixels, vanished.

Jasoft closed his eyes, ran the last second of the Virtual scene through his mind.

The Qax ship, he realized. The weapon — the beam, whatever it was — had been fired by the Qax ship from the future.

'Xeelee technology, Jasoft Parz,' the new Qax said. 'The starbreaker…'

Where the cherry-red beam had struck, the surface of the ocean-globe seethed and steamed; huge bubbles erupted from the heart of the liquid, disrupting the delicate pattern of hexagonal turbulence cells. Mist wrapped around the churning globe.

'My God,' Parz breathed. 'You’re killing it.'

'The beam consists of coherent gravity radiation,' the new Qax said, almost conversationally. 'The form of the ocean fragment is maintained by a small black hole at its center. The action of the weapon has caused the equilibrium of the globe to be broken; it is now imploding toward the central singularity.'

The ball of liquid above Parz’s head was completely obscured by mist now; it was like standing under a fat, spherical cloud. Droplets of fluid, round and heavy as drops of mercury, splashed obscenely against Parz’s faceplate. He wiped at the plate with a gloved hand. 'Qax,' he said angrily, 'I didn’t know members of your species murdered each other.'

'The failure of the one you called the Governor, in permitting the escape of these rebel humans through time, is so catastrophic as to be criminal. If it troubles you, Parz, think of this as a culling, not a murder. A strengthening of my species through the elimination of the weak. The Governor of Earth was — hesitant. I am not.'

'A catastrophic failure?' Parz knelt again and pressed his face close to the translator box, shouting to hear his own voice over a rising wind. 'My God, Qax, I don’t know what I expected from the future, but nothing like this… We humans terrify you. Don’t we, Qax?'

'Yes,' the Qax said simply. 'But the fact of my apprehension should, perhaps, terrify you. For it is I, in this local frame, who wields the power—'

Parz shivered at that.

'And I do not fear you, Jasoft Parz,' the Qax went on.

Parz frowned. 'How flattering.'

'I studied your conversation with the Governor earlier. This new policy, of permitting selected humans access to the ancient AS technology, is indeed a wise one. Because it divides you. And you, Jasoft Parz, you have accepted the payment of the Qax. You live, while your fellows die like insects.' The Qax laughed, and its synthesized laughter was dark, sinister by comparison with the Governor’s. 'Your analysis of the value of potential immortality was valid. A human would far sooner throw away a life of a mere few decades than abandon the chance of immortality. Wouldn’t you, Parz?'

'If you want my cooperation, why do you insult me?'

'Oh, I will have your cooperation.'

Parz lifted his head, letting the ghastly rain slide over his faceplate. 'You listen to me. The Governor, who you seem to hold in such contempt, was civilized. Do you understand me? The framework within which we worked together — the Occupation — was not established by either of us. But the Governor strove for efficiency, not terror or brutality. And that was why I spent my life working with it; I felt it was the best way I could serve my species. But you. I’ve already seen you murder one of your own, since your irruption from the future only moments ago —'

The Qax laughed. 'You are honest, Jasoft Parz; perhaps that is why the Governor valued your presence so much.

'Listen. My purpose here is not to maintain the Occupation.'

Parz asked uneasily: 'Then what?'

'I will not stay in this local spacetime frame. My intention is to pass through the original human portal — to move still further back into time.'

'You’re chasing the Friends of Wigner? The human rebels, back through time?'

'I intend to destroy those rebels, yes. And to achieve much more besides.'

Parz tried to imagine this Qax — an unprincipled killer with an admitted fear and loathing of humans — emerging into the unprepared Solar System of fifteen centuries earlier.

'And me?' Jasoft asked fearfully. 'What will I do, while you launch this assault on the past?'

'Why, you will accompany me, of course.'

'Dear God—' Primeval ocean murk sleeted again over Jasoft’s faceplate; he wiped at it ineffectually with the back of one gloved hand.

The Qax said, 'The Governor will remain conscious for some hours, although its sentience is diminishing already.'

'Is there pain?'

'Our business is concluded here. Return to your craft.'

Barely able to see through a sheen of ocean-stuff, Parz reached for the shelter of the flitter.

Chapter 6

The GUT ship Hermit Crab swept backside-first through a powered orbit around the swollen cheek of Jupiter.

Michael Poole sat in the Crab’s clear-walled lifedome with the Virtual of his father, Harry. The ship was rounding the dark side of the planet now, and the GUT drive, blazing a mile beneath the transparent floor of the cabin, illuminated vast areas of that ocean of swirling cloud. Violet light was cast upward through the cabin, and Poole noticed how his father’s young, blond head had been given suitably demonic shadows in response.