Choice of the Gallant - Paradox Equation I

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  "Gallant, you are not forever alone. I await beyond time. You will find my aspects, but you must search. Each will give you love, but you will leave two and one shall leave you. They do not know I am within them. I await you. My fathers love you. Look for me. Know me by my name. Athena."

  "ATHENA!"

  He awoke at the sound of his own shout. He pulled himself to the console. He must complete the ship. The formless space around him was dizzying. He began programming a reality within it. He wanted much more than he had given the other twelve ships he'd created. He wondered if those who had them would ever realize he had deliberately made them small, boxy, and very noisy. Would they ever know infinity lay behind the noisy walls of the inaccessible engine room? The thought of Hensk trying to sleep in the tiny cabin with the roar of the engines ringing in his ears pleased him.

  He poured his dreams into the program. All the rooms he'd dreamed. All the gardens he'd only imagined. All the laboratories, studios, pools, the libraries and the banks and banks of computer storage he would someday fill. He gave his ship an exterior reality, then built the program to dematerialize it to land. He smiled. He doubted any of the twelve in the timeships he'd built would look beyond to see what the power to dematerialize truly meant. He laughed when he noticed he'd found a way to create little pockets of timelessness. They'd be very handy.

  He began programming the life support structure and gravity. He'd found he didn't care for weightlessness. He entered the last command. The ship would gather information from all available sources. He leapt onto the console. It would be the only stable item. Even the floor, chair, and bubble of atmosphere he'd created would be changed. He leaned down and tapped the pad to run the program.

  He wandered through the ship. He kept getting lost. He loved it. His existence had been limited to a corridor of cells, an arena, link room, preparation room and Hensk's banquet halls. He vaguely remembered wide streets and green lands. He tried to remember his mother, but no image would come. He had one clear memory of learning at a station and a man's smile and nod he had done well. He knew he was very young and from a great house, but that was all. Hensk had taken his name, and with it, every voice that had ever spoken it.