Timelike Infinity

The Qax hesitated. 'Your admiration for these criminals is interesting,' it said mildly.

'Oh, you don’t need to worry,' Parz said with vague self-disgust. 'I talk a good rebellion. I always have. But when it comes to action, that’s a different matter.'

'I know. I understand this feature of yours. So did my predecessor.'

'Am I as predictable as that?'

'It is a factor that increases your usefulness, in our eyes,' the Qax said.

From behind the curved flank of the Spline, another ship appeared. This, Parz saw through the Spline’s lens, was one of the craft indigenous to the period: a squat, ungainly affair, gaudily painted, hovering before the eye of the Spline like some insect. The sensors showed there was a crowd of these barges, clustered around the Interface portal. So far none of them had interfered with the Spline — or attempted to interfere, rather.

Parz said, 'Aren’t you concerned about these local craft?'

'They cannot harm us,' the Qax said, sounding uninterested. 'We can afford to take time here, to check through the Spline’s systems, before the cross-system hyperspace flight.'

Parz smiled. 'Qax, listening to you I can hear the voice of the commander of a twentieth-century atomic carrier disdaining the painted dugout canoes of islanders, drifting out to meet him on the curve of some sea. Still, though, the most primitive weapon can kill…

'And I wonder why they don’t attack anyway.' He pressed his face to the cornea and glanced around the sky; now that he looked for them he saw how many of the strange local ships there were, and how diverse in design they were. The political structure in this period was chaotic, he recalled. Fragmented. Perhaps these vessels represented many different authorities. Governments of moons, of the inner planets, of Earth herself; as well as of the central, international agencies… Perhaps no war-footing coalition existed here yet; perhaps there was no one to command an attack on this Spline.

Still, Parz was irritated by the Qax’s complacency.

'Aren’t you at least worried that these vessels might be raising a System-wide alert? Maybe the inner planets will be able to pack more of a punch against you,' he said grimly. 'And if they’re allowed to prepare…'

'Jasoft Parz,' the Qax said with a trace of impatience, 'your death-seeking fantasies are beginning to grate. I have monitored none of the dire warnings you seem to yearn for.'

Parz frowned, absently scratching his cheek through the thick, clear plastic of his face-mask. 'The situation doesn’t make sense, actually, even given the political fragmentation. The Friends have been in this time period for a year. They’ve had plenty of time to warn the human natives of this era, to coordinate, assemble some sort of force to oppose you… perhaps even to close the Interface portal.'

'There has been no evidence of such coordination,' the Qax said.

'No, there hasn’t, has there? Is it possible the Friends haven’t warned the natives? — perhaps haven’t communicated with them at all, even?' Parz could still make out the Friends’ craft against Jupiter, an island of green on a sea of pink. What were the rebels up to? The Friends must have had some project in mind when they made their desperate run to this period… but they had not felt the need to enlist the resources of the natives of this period.

Parz tried to imagine how a handful of rebels on a single improvised ship could hope to strike across fifteen centuries at an interstellar power.

'It makes little difference,' the Qax murmured, its disembodied voice like an insect buzzing somewhere behind Parz’s eyes. 'The second Occupation craft is minutes away from the rebel craft, now; this absurd episode is nearing its climax.'

* * *

'Michael Poole. Miriam.'

Poole dragged his eyes away from the astonishing sky. Shira stood before them; Poole saw that the customary blank composure of her skeletal face was marred by a tightness of the mouth, a pink-white flaring of her small nostrils. Beyond her, Poole saw now, the earth-craft was full of motion; Friends bearing slates and other pieces of equipment ran across the wiry grass, converging on the stones at the heart of the craft.

Berg snapped, 'Shira, those are Spline warships up there.'

'We understand what is occurring, Miriam.'

'Then what the hell are you going to do about it?'

Shira ignored this and turned to Poole. 'You must stay inside the teepee,' she said. 'The surface of the earth-craft is not safe now. The Xeelee construction material will shield you from—'

Poole said, 'I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re going to do.'

Harry, his image restored to brightness outside the hut, folded his arms and stuck his jaw out. 'Me too,' he said defiantly.

Shira’s voice was fragile but steady enough. 'We are not going to respond directly to the incursion of the Qax,' she insisted. 'There is no purpose—'

Berg shouted, 'You mean that after bringing them here you’re just going to let them walk in and do what they want?'

Shira flinched away from the other woman’s fury, but stood her ground. 'You do not understand,' she said, the strain still more evident in her voice. 'The Project is paramount.'

Harry tried to grab Poole’s arm; his fingers passed through cloth and flesh in a cloud of pixels. 'Michael. Look at the Spline.'

The first warship had crossed the zenith now and seemed to be receding from the earth-craft. As it worked its way through the sky it rolled, as if peering from side to side like some obscene eyeball; deep in craterlike pores Poole saw the glint of blood and metal.

The Spline’s partner, the second warship, was clear of the Interface. It was already the size of a large coin, and it grew visibly.

The second ship seemed to be coming straight down at them.

'Only two,' Berg muttered.

Poole glanced at her, startled; her face was screwed up tight around peering eyes, a mask of appraisal. 'What?'

'No sign of any more coming through the portal. There’s already been time for a third to start appearing.'

Poole shook his head, amazed at her ability to think her way through the looming threat from the sky. 'Do you think something’s stopping them, at the other end?'

Berg shook her head with a brief, dismissive jerk. 'No way. Two is all they think they need.'

Shira’s hands climbed over each other like anxious little animals. 'Please,' she said. 'The teepee.'

Poole ignored her. 'What do you think they’re doing?'

Berg, her fear gone now, or at least suppressed, tracked the silent motion of the Spline. 'The first one’s leaving Jovian space.'

Poole frowned. 'Heading where? The inner Solar System?'

'It’s logical,' Berg said dryly. 'That’s where Earth lies, fat and waiting.'

'And the second?'

'…Is coming down our damn throats.'

Shira said, 'You need not fear. When the Project comes to fruition these events will be… translated into harmless shadows.'

Poole and Berg, dropping their heads from the ugly movements in the sky, studied the Friend.

'She’s crazy,' Berg said.

Shira leaned forward, her blue eyes pale and intense. 'You must understand. The Project will correct all of this. The continuance of the Project is — must be — the top priority for all of us. Including you, our visitors.'

'Even above defending ourselves — defending Earth — against a Spline attack?' Poole asked. 'Shira, this may be the best chance well have of defeating the assault. And—'

She didn’t seem to be hearing him. 'The Project must be seen through,' she said. 'Accelerated, in fact.' The girl looked from one to the other of them, searching their faces, pleading for understanding; Michael felt as if he could see the practiced phrases rolling meaninglessly through her mind. 'You will come with me now.'

'What do you think?' Poole said to Berg. 'Will they force us? Do they have weapons?'

'You know they do,' Berg said calmly. 'You saw what they did to my boat.'

'So we’ve no way of impelling them to do anything.' He heard the frustration, the despair in his own voice. 'They’re not going to oppose the Spline at all; they’re putting all their faith in this Project of theirs. The magic Project that will solve everything.'

Berg growled softly.

She lashed out sideways with her bunched fist.

She caught the Friend squarely on the temple. Shira fell loosely, crumpling, as if supporting strings had been cut; she lay with her small, skull-like face fringed by pink-stained grass.

Harry, staring down, said, 'Wow.'

'She won’t stay out long,' Miriam said. 'We need to move fast.'

Poole glanced up at the still-growing, rolling form of the Spline warship. 'What do we do?'

'We have to take out both Spline,' Berg muttered. 'That much is obvious. As long as either of them is loose In the Solar System, the whole damn race is in peril.'

'Oh, sure.' Harry said. 'Let’s take ’em both out. Or, on the other hand, why don’t we think big? I have a cunning plan…'

'Shut up, Harry,' Michael said absently. 'All right, Miriam, we’re listening. How?'

'We’ll have to split up. Harry, is the Crab’s boat ready to lift?'

Harry closed his eyes, as if looking within. 'Yes,' he said.

Shira stirred on the grass, moaning softly.

'Maybe you can get away in the boat,' Miriam said. 'While the Friends are still running about confused, trying to stow everything. Get back to the Crab and go after the first Spline, the one that’s heading for Earth. Maybe you can catch it before it engages its hyperdrive.'

'And then what?'

Berg grinned tightly. 'How should I know? I’m making this up as I’m going along. You’ll have to think of something.'

'All right. What about you?'

Berg looked up. The second Spline, advancing on the earth-craft, loomed still closer; it was a fleshy moon above them. 'I’ll try to do something about that one,' Berg said. 'Maybe I can get to those singularity cannons.'

Shira moaned again and seemed to be trying to raise her face from the grass.

Poole said, 'And her?'

Berg shrugged. 'Take her with you. Maybe she’ll be able to help you.'

Poole bent, picked up the girl; her protruding eyes, trying to fix on his face, slid across the sky like poorly tracking cameras.

Berg searched Poole’s face. 'I need to say good-bye, Michael,' she said.