If Alessia were really a Zadúmchov, then there was a good chance she was a secret agent. An agent placed among them at the last minute–because of her family status, and for what reason other than to monitor the explorers' activities to report to the Council? Or–perhaps to subdue them if they ever tried to disobey orders?
But–didn’t they know that Marshall Zadúmchov had died in relative obscurity, discarded by the Council? Alessia wondered; some of them didn’t, it seemed, or else didn’t allow that fact much relevance to the present situation.
They were afraid. They were not so far gone towards inhumanity that they were not still sensitive to human motives. They didn’t want to believe they had been betrayed, but this news was reason enough to wonder.
Had Alessia been sent to them long ago only to betray them?
She despised it that they were jumping to conclusions; at the same time, an undefinable part of her mind craved their understanding. Had they grown to mean so much to her? Could she live under the yoke of their suspicions?
As Kiel regarded her, she sensed his struggle to give her the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t want to believe that Hinev had allowed her to become an explorer at the Council's insistence, that she was some kind of Council spy, or worse, that Hinev had had nothing to do with her arrival, as they had supposed; after all, the explorers had never spoken to him about it before he was sent to Eneveh.
Kiel didn’t know why the Council would have bothered to place an agent among them, if only one, but he was struck by a sense of uneasiness nonetheless, as though it wouldn’t have been beyond Marankeil to arrange it. Why else would Alessia keep her own identity from them? That was why he had addressed her by the Grand Marshall’s name.
She could see that his unformed opinion hinged upon the nature of her answer.
Lierva reached an arm over Alessia's shoulder and glared at the others.
"Don't even consider it," she cautioned. "Alessia isn't one of them. She wasn't even called to the meetings."
“That’s true, isn’t it?” Kellar said. His face made it clear he at least didn’t believe she was a spy.
“Then what is her connection to the Zadúmchovs?” Onracey wondered, a crease furrowing his broad forehead.
“Who says there is one?” Lierva threw back.
"If I’ve been hiding an identity, it is that I’m a half-race child," Alessia admitted. “My father was an alien. That report has always been true, but it wasn’t exactly appropriate conversational material years ago.”
“So, it wasn’t a rumor?” Kellar stammered; the others were no less surprised. No one would ever lie about such a thing. In their day, half-race children had been shunned by pure Seynorynaelians and other alien races as an abomination of nature. Aliens were tolerable; half-race children didn’t belong anywhere, and neither side embraced them. The explorers had heard rumors about Alessia’s heritage long ago, but to hear that the rumors were true after all of these years was still a surprise. There were so many unknown consequences to being half-alien, so many strange anomalies scientists had found in the half-race children, so many aberrations that surfaced in character and reasoning when dealing with alien anatomy...
“Well, some kind of misunderstanding must have been made.” Derstan shrugged after a moment.
“How so?” Vala turned to him.
“Alessia can’t be related to the former Grand Marshall.” Derstan replied. “No Zadúmchov ever married outside the elite of Ariyalsynai.”
“Not that I’ve heard of.” Kellar agreed.
"Nevertheless, the Council's approval was sent to the explorer bio-specialist Zadúmchov, former Martial Scientific Force lieutenant under Commander Ungarn," Kiel spoke evenly. "Alessia was the only one who fit the description, the only one who requested a formal transfer. If Marankeil himself has made a mistake, then I’ll note it." Kiel offered, hoping Alessia would agree.
Instead, she faced him squarely, denying nothing, saying nothing. She felt the others' curious eyes upon her as the silence stretched.
What could she tell them? she wondered. If they knew she was the Grand Marshall’s granddaughter, would they assume that she had been raised in Ariyalsynai among the elite, untroubled by the difficulties they had endured to earn their places as explorers? Would they also assume that she had been placed among them to report on their activities and make certain that they didn’t stray from their mission guideline? Would they take her silence as evidence that she was indeed an agent of Marankeil and his Council?
She could show them memories, but even then–there was nothing in her mind to prove that she wasn’t being used by the Elders for some reason, or that she wasn’t showing them memories that weren’t hers, memories that she had borrowed from a mindlink with another individual. She couldn’t prove or disprove anything. And hadn’t Marankeil taken her from home? Hadn’t he also insisted she become an explorer? God above! Could it be true?! Was she really being manipulated by Marankeil? The horror of that sudden thought was enough to paralyze her.
"You don't understand," Lierva informed them, to keep the others from mistaking Alessia’s silence for an admission of guilt.
“We don’t?” Wen-eil turned to her.
“No, you don’t,” Lierva’s voice was cold. "Yes, Alessia’s grandfather was Grand Marshall Zadúmchov, but he disinherited his daughter when she married an alien. Alessia’s mother lived–” Lierva caught Alessia’s stony expression and stopped abruptly.
Kiel was watching the interchange closely.
At least Lierva believes what she is saying, that Alessia isn’t a spy, Kiel nodded reluctantly, perceiving that something unspoken united Alessia and Lierva in their faith; he let the others hear his thoughts, whether deliberately or by accident, Alessia didn’t know. The others doubt–perhaps they are right to question. But for myself, I have only to consider that Alessia is a member of our mission, and I can’t forsake her.
Alessia met his expression with composure as she heard his thoughts. Yet a small part of her wondered if he thought less of her now, now that he knew her heritage. Half-alien and part of the elite that had controlled them. She felt him struggle against his own prejudices against half-race children; it was somehow easier to accept aliens than half-alien creatures, as though to be half of two races was an abomination, yet he tried to envision Hinev, his mentor, whom he had admired. He found it easier to accept Alessia’s alien side than the connection with the great coordinator.
For many years, Kiel had hated Marshall Zadúmchov, the man who had been a thorn in the side of all those working on The Firien Project... No, he had hated Zadúmchov far longer...
"I only have one thing to say about all of this,” Alessia said quietly. “Enassa is my father’s family name, so forget about the orders and let’s just get on with our mission, because whoever addressed them to me just wanted to stir up trouble among us. It would be a shame to let that person succeed over something as meaningless as a name.”
“Oh, I don’t care what the devil your name is,” Celekar threw out gruffly, approaching the group. “Just don't go putting on any airs around me just because you come from the aristocracy.”
Alessia turned to him and caught the slight expression around the corners of his mouth.
She rewarded him with a smile few sunrises could rival. “I wouldn’t dare.”
* * * * *
A confession of the soul would do her a world of good, she knew. At the same time, she despised herself for even being here, because she despised the kind of person who would presume to throw herself between two people in love. She knew that wasn’t what she wanted to do, rationally, but would he understand that?
Well, she had decided. She was going to tell Kiel that she loved him even though she perfectly understood that it would have to remain unrequited, then tell him everything else that had been bothering her. M
aybe he would be able to forgive Hinev and help her come up with a way to break the news to the others. They deserved to know that little bit of information she knew about the experiments, even if it seemed out of place to be mentioning it now.
The true transgression had been to keep silent about the secret circumstances surrounding the serum experiments in the first place, even though she knew the others would be horrified to learn them.
With a sense of relief, she stopped pacing.
She strode to the elevation device with the intention of finding Kiel.
She stopped outside his quarters, sensing a stream of thoughts.
Kiel was remembering Calendra's laugh, a little laugh that had the power to govern his moods, a little laugh that drove away his frustration and doubts. How he missed that little laugh! Yes, and the smile that illuminated her face, her intriguing features, her beautiful mouth. He would always remember her that way–lines of confusion melting away as a smile of comprehension spread over her face.
Why? Why couldn't she have come with them? He wondered again, pointlessly. Who dared to say that Calendra was not special enough for the serum and to become an explorer, not strong enough to be an explorer when he knew otherwise? Hinev had made the decision, Kiel knew, but he couldn't hold it against the man for long. Deep down, Kiel sensed that there were more risks involved in the serum metamorphosis than he really wanted to subject Calendra to; that didn't make his disappointment any easier to bear.
When he thought about Calendra, his mood abruptly changed. In the privacy of his own quarters where no one depended upon him, he felt as though his heart was slowly being ripped in two as they sped further away from Seynorynael. For all of the abilities he had gained in the metamorphosis, he couldn’t protect her. And the metamorphosis had separated them, perhaps forever.
No word had come to him of her while they were on Seynorynael, nor of her fate.
The mission had been launched, but he hadn’t seen her since the metamorphosis changed his life. He had asked if he could remain behind with Calendra but had been ordered to go, to lead the second mission. Even his request for a visit had been denied. He hadn’t even been able to contact Hinev to ensure that her life was still in suspension.
Oh, the torture of not knowing!
And now Hinev's counsel from long ago repeated again and again in his mind.
The longer she lies in suspension, the less likely her body will be able to recuperate. She may wake to find her life over.
Alessia moved away from the door. Some things were better left unsaid.
* * * * *
"How do we know that it will take us only beyond the galactic plane and not to some other remote galaxy?" Kiel asked Gerryls, skeptical.
The entire explorer team had gathered in the tactical analysis room. The Selesta had finished the part of their mission in their own galaxy, to move and enlarge more centipede hole gates between the Federation planets. But though they had counted upon employing the new string engine to take them beyond the galaxy into the Great Cluster and unknown space, they had not yet been able to accurately control the new engine drive.
Alessia watched Celekar's intent face across from her and turned back to Gerryls.
"I don't know. So far, when we've set the coordinates in the tachiyon engine the string engine seems to read along and adjust its energy output to match the tachiyon vibrations. But except for that one time, the string has only activated if it senses a pre-existing centipede hole along our course–"
"What about that artificial tunnel?" Kiel persisted. "It may be possible to rip another hole in space-time to create our own centipede hole passage directly to that galaxy." He pointed to a blueprint, a schematic of the unknown drawn from a picture taken all the way back on Goeur.
"Theoretically, yes, it is possible." Gerryls nodded. "But we can't understand the mechanism which operates the engine. Until we can, there is only the possibility that the engine runs on an automatic level–we will have to find the manual control device."
Alessia studied the theoretical engine schematic in the holo-field. However, the string engine itself had been invisible to the scanner, as it had been to their eyes. Only the metallic sphere and energy field around it appeared in the field-generated facsimile.
"Has the computer terminal been able to contact the energy?" she asked suddenly, drawing the other's attention.
"It receives energy readings." Gerryls answered, curious as to what she had in mind.
"And after the serum we've succeeded in telepathic links to the computer memory bank." Alessia stated. Gerryls arched an eyebrow. “Just as the Elder Council can speak to us.”
“What are you suggesting?” Gerryls asked.
"How about a three-way telepathy-telekinetic link?" Alessia suggested, and Gerryls finally understood. If they contacted the computer while it read the energy readings and then sent a wave of semi-communicative energy to the string engine, they could influence the string vibrations, read the energy changes through the computer, and if they activated the centipede hole rending device with a sudden surge of measured energy, they might be able to control how long and how intense the energy activity; they might be able to control the final destination of the centipede hole.
Gerryls smiled at her; the others nodded enthusiastically. Only Kiel watched her without registering any emotion.
"I'm going to attempt it," Gerryls announced. "If we can activate the engine to take us to this point in space–" he gestured to the edge of their own galaxy between Feiar and Gerka2. "We might be able to create a centipede hole near Kilraben1 to take us into the Great Cluster."
"Isn't it dangerous to create a permanent centipede hole there?" Lierva asked. "We’ll be exposing the rest of the Great Cluster to the Elders forever. And any other group of space travelers–any hostile aliens that might live in the galaxies of the Great Cluster–well, they’ll be able to use our centipede hole to enter our galaxy, to reach us.” She paused. “Now, if we could find a pre-existing centipede hole–"
"We have no choice.” Kiel realized soberly.
“What?” Lierva demanded.
“When the Elders discovered the string energy activity, they assumed we would figure out the engine's operation in time.” Gerryls explained.
“Their orders are clear,” Kiel said. Was his honor, his sense of duty strong enough to adhere to the mission guideline, no matter what? They all saw the strange mix of strength of will and uncertainty in his eyes. “We are to map the galaxies using the centipede hole passages. If we use a pre-existing centipede hole and emerge into unknown space and don’t return, they will know we’ve failed. But we must try.”
“Yes,” Lierva admitted, reluctant.
“Hinev said that it’s possible to make the centipede holes as a tunnel between the galaxies, if we’re careful to project our course through the calculations of initial mass and gravitational energy." Kiel continued, remembering.
"Well then, that’s it. If that’s how we’re expected to reach the small galaxy group beyond the Great Cluster, we’ll just have to master the centipede hole gateways." Gerryls' voice belied the fear in his heart.
He didn’t want to tell them that there may be no returning to the time and space they had known if something went wrong.
Chapter Ten
Hinev’s explorers left the mouth of the centipede hole behind and found that they had come to another galaxy group.
Selesta and its crew had finally passed beyond the Great Cluster.
Now their own galaxy group, called The Great Cluster, one of many thousand others, appeared no more than a cloud of distant lights behind them, barely visible from the edge of the galaxy group they had come to. No one from Seynorynael had ever been to this galaxy group according to historical record, but if Hinev was right, some traces of the ancient humanoid civilization that had been the "first race" migh
t still be found here. Or not. They may in the future only find aliens of a very different nature, or none at all.
Kiel plotted the course to take them to several star candidates containing planetary systems. The explorers surveyed the entire galaxy group slowly, creating permanent centipede hole gates between the inhabitable worlds. If all went as planned, after they had extended the Federation's greeting, Federation ships would follow the markers through the centipede holes Selesta had made linking the galaxies and send political convoys and trading ships to the worlds that agreed to join the intergalactic conglomeration.
Only a small percentage of stars had developed planetary systems, and of these only a small percentage were even capable of supporting life. Yet in the billion billions of stars in galaxy group two, there were still several million life-containing worlds. Less than a hundred years after they had entered the cluster, Talden received a faint radio transmission on his position on the bridge; layers of future transmissions followed it, transmissions that had spread from the planet of origin in a nearby yellow-white star system, only three hundred light-years away. Most of the explorers had assembled on the bridge where visuals were now being received.
"Such a young civilization," Gerryls commented, a little disappointed. "Only three hundred years of appreciable technology."
"Would you prefer them to be more advanced than us, and capable of anti-matter weaponry?" Lierva teased. Gerryls sighed as though he saw no point in arguing.
"We'll make a centipede hole connection to the space just outside the system and observe their culture for a few days before we attempt contact," Kiel decided, though Gerryls suggested making the centipede hole at the edge of the solar plane beyond the elliptical ring of comets, in order to keep the centipede hole mouth obscured, in case the inhabitants could presently detect its presence.
Days after they arrived in the system, Kiel, Vala, Ioka, Derstan, and Gerryls tried to decipher the emissions coming from the fourth planet to the outlying planetary colonies. The colonies had grown up on the fifth planet, on two of the sixth planet's moons, on the eight and last planet's largest moon, and on a space station at the edge of the system. The images represented a bipedal race of creatures with stereoscopic eyes and four-digit hands and feet, short thick hair over a large cranium and shorter, smooth body fur that varied from white, yellow or orange to reds and browns, and a few jet black, without patches of any other color.