Edges

Chapter 4

A message from Clemantine forestalled panic when the walls of the isolation chamber contracted, cutting off the cameras and eliminating all sight and sound of what was happening in that space.

Her message said:

*Take no action. Give me time. Understood?

Too well understood. From his post on the bridge, Riffan glared at his workstation’s screen, cursing the banality, the triviality of sexual desire. Against the wonder of Urban’s return, his capture of a Chenzeme courser, the question of what he intended to do with that ship, of where he intended to take it… this tryst struck Riffan as both dull and dangerous. Clemantine had left him with an order to dissolve the chamber with herself in it if anything went wrong. But how was he to know?

Still, Riffan had done as she requested. He’d taken no action, using the time instead to send an army of DIs combing through the river of data that constituted the library Urban was transferring to Long Watch. Years would be needed to thoroughly analyze everything that library held. It was a task that would consume the working hours of hundreds of researchers and Riffan was certainly keen to learn of all that had been discovered among the star systems that lay swan of Deception Well.

And yet he was even more anxious to learn what Urban’s future plans might be.

Riffan had come to Long Watch to search for surviving human civilizations, new human migrations, or a renewal of life among the Hallowed Vasties. But the telescope time he’d earned with his service had turned up no evidence of any life at all beyond the protective nebula of Deception Well.

This did not mean his studies had been a waste of time. A negative result was still useful data. It was proof he’d done all that could be done from the vicinity of the Well.

He had not confessed his plans to anyone, but it was his intention, when his time aboard Long Watch was done, to present the results of his studies to the security council and to challenge them to take the next step.

The crux of the argument he would make:

If anyone remains alive out there, they are alive because they stayed hidden, and they will not be found unless we, the people of the Well, screw up our courage and venture forth from our refuge here on the frontier’s edge, to find them.

And now here was Urban, his presence testimony to the rewards of exploration.

An anxious sigh. A quick glance around the silent bridge confirming Pasha, Enzo, and Zira, all at their stations. They took no notice of him, enraptured as they were by the data from the new library posting to their screens.

Riffan turned back to his own screen, scanning the summaries gathered by a DI trained in information science. He found descriptions of terrifying encounters with robotic Chenzeme ships, of the discovery of great technologies eons old, of alien lifeforms devolved from sentience, of an encounter with a human settlement where none should be, and the conquest of the courser that Urban had named Dragon.

Life is long, he mused, full of strange twists and imbued with wonder. Urban had dared to venture swan, and by doing so he’d made discoveries that redefined human history. Riffan envied him that, and he regretted that he’d been born too late to be part of the Null Boundary Expedition.

A link flashed to life on his screen, interrupting these restless reflections. Anxious excitement shot through him as he realized the link was from Clemantine.

A sharp gesture of acceptance and her image coalesced on screen, a head-and-shoulders view. Urban drifted behind her. He eyed Riffan with an arrogant half-smile while Clemantine appeared breathless, on edge, a ruddy heat in her brown cheeks. In a softly matter-of-fact voice she told him, “Urban is bound for the Hallowed Vasties, to discover what is left there. I’m going with him. There’s nothing you need to do. No need to break quarantine. I’ve sent a ghost to confirm what he’s told me. I’ll stay where I am, here with Urban in the isolation chamber, until it returns. I can work from here, complete my survey of his library and gather the data we’ll need to take with us. Once we upload, you can dissolve this chamber and everything in it. No need to take any risks of inadvertent contamination.”

Riffan stared at her, stunned at this news, although he realized that on some level he’d been expecting it. “Truly?” he whispered past a dry throat. Jealousy burned in him. A bitter wonder. “The Hallowed Vasties?”

Misunderstanding the root of his shock, Clemantine sought to reassure him. “It will require an immense time to reach the Vasties. We understand that.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Riffan said, waving off any such concern as anxious words tumbled one after another. “Of course it will require time and it will be worth any amount of time that must be invested because the greatest mystery of our time, the unanswerable question of our age is: What happened? What happened to the Hallowed Vasties? And to answer this question we must venture beyond the sanctuary of the Well.”

What a fool he felt! He had meant to use his unsuccessful surveys to lobby for just such an expedition, one that would follow in reverse their ancestors’ migration route from Earth and yes. Yes, an expedition to the Hallowed Vasties would require an immense stretch of time. Centuries.

Given the distance and the risks it was unlikely anyone who signed on would ever return, but what did it matter? Those who wanted to go need not send their core selves. They could create avatars for the purpose. A version of themselves to stay, and one to go. The knowledge they gathered might be sent back to Deception Well in a series of robotic messenger ships propelled by the zero-point reef.

A grand project, truly. An inspirational project. A project Riffan had hoped to ignite and to take part in.

Others had lobbied for such a project in the past. The resources were within reach and there had never been a shortage of volunteers. But each time the idea had been proposed, the security council had withheld approval. Deception Well’s founding generation remembered too well the perils and fraught choices of the past. They feared such an expedition would draw the attention of the Chenzeme, and that the trajectory of such a starship would be mapped back to the Well.

Riffan had been resolved to try the idea again, he’d invested years in preparation, but now here was Urban, embarked on the voyage Riffan had dreamed of undertaking, asking no one’s permission. Seeking an answer to the unanswerable question.

Riffan’s frustration was so acute it was all he could do not to pound his fist against the soft, fleshy structure of his console.

“I want to go with you,” he blurted out before he quite knew what he was saying. But then, disoriented by his own boldness, he looked away—and discovered Pasha adrift beside him. The upwelling light of the console highlighted the fierce set of her brow, an expression suggesting he was not the only one with secret dreams. “And you?” he whispered.

She nodded.

But did it make sense when there was a chance of a well-planned, fully staffed expedition, launched under the authority of the security council, in a starship of human design?

Yes. It took only a moment of reflection to know he had to try for this. This was real and imminent, while there had only ever been the slightest chance that he could sway the council.

Resolved now, he turned again to the screen to find Clemantine regarding him with curious interest—but he saw only skepticism in Urban’s gaze.

Convince him, you fool, he thought. If you want this, it’s now or never.

He drew a deep breath. “I want to go with you,” he repeated, this time in a calm, determined tone. “I want to be part of it. I’ve wanted this all my life. And I think Pasha wants this too.”

“Yes,” she said, leaning into the screen. “I want to go. I would not miss an opportunity like this. Not for anything. And I know there are others who would seize this chance too, if you offered it to them, to us. If you’re willing to host an expedition like the great ships of old.”

Urban traded an uneasy look with Clemantine. Riffan imagined a silent conversation bouncing back and forth between their atriums. Then Clemantine brought that conversation out into the open. Speaking aloud, she said to Urban, “It’s true an expanded ship’s company will complicate things. You’ll need to consider the welfare and goals of others. But with the right people, you’ll gain by their knowledge, their experience, their viewpoints. And a thousand years from now, when you’re tired of me and yet you’ve found nothing human in all the Hallowed Vasties, you’re going to be grateful to have others to talk to.”

Urban scowled resentfully. “It’s you who wants it.” Words spoken like an accusation. If Clemantine made an answer, it wasn’t out loud, but after a few seconds, Urban turned to the screen. “You understand that if you come, you’ll only be sending a ghost.” He gestured at Riffan and Pasha. “These versions of you will stay here.”

“Of course,” Riffan answered.

Urban went on, “You also need to understand that the ghost you send, that version of you, won’t be coming back. Your timeline will split into two and you will never know what happens to that other version of yourself. Even if you do somehow make it back to Deception Well, millennia will have passed. Nothing will be the same.”

“I understand all that,” Riffan said, feeling hollow with fear but excited too. “And I’m still eager to do it.” Eager to go, but also to stay. Two versions of him, soon to be bound to separate fates. No doubt each would be jealous of the other.

Pasha nodded her affirmation. “Yes, I understand all the implications too.”

Urban turned again to Clemantine. She gave him an encouraging nod, but he still did not look convinced. He said, “No one needs to decide yet. No one goes until Clemantine’s ghost reports back. So you’ll have hours to reconsider.”

Riffan suspected it was Urban who needed time to consider the wisdom of this move. Wanting to reassure him and ensure his place on the ship, he said, “I want you to know this is no sudden fancy. I’ve thought about this for years. I’ve had time to ponder the practical aspects—the slow pace of discovery, the unresolvable timelines, the… the…” He stammered as pain welled behind his eyes. “The heartbreaking reality of leaving everyone and everything I know. And I’ve made my peace with it. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Neither am I,” Pasha said. “But will you make this a real expedition, with a ship’s company larger than just Riffan and me? I can find the people for you. Good people.”

Urban drew back, but before he could say no, Clemantine again intervened. “Can Dragon support more people?” she asked him. “Does it have the resources?”

“Sure,” Urban answered reluctantly. “Given time to prepare.”

Clemantine shrugged. “And we’ll have plenty of time, once our ghosts transfer in. So there’s no reason we can’t expand the ship’s company. I think we’ll be better off with a larger group. It’ll give us more options, more flexibility.”

“More conflict,” Urban groused.

“Conflicts can be worked out,” Riffan said, determined to be helpful. “And I promise we won’t be difficult company. I’m psychologically qualified for this. So is Pasha. We’ve both reached fifth level. We wouldn’t have been posted to Long Watch, otherwise. You can make fifth a requirement. Reject anyone who doesn’t have it. That way you’ll know that none of us are going to break down or exhibit toxic behavior.”

Urban cocked his head. His eyes narrowed. A crooked smile. “I’m not fifth level. You sure you want to take a chance?”

Pasha leaned closer to the screen and said, very firmly, “Yes, we’re willing to risk it.” In a more conciliatory tone she added, “You’re the ship’s captain. On the old expeditions, the captain was the final authority. I recognize that. I’m sure Riffan, as acting commander of Long Watch, recognizes that too.”

“Well actually,” Riffan said, “our situation on Long Watch is different because our command rotates, and ultimate authority lies with the security council.”

“We’ll find a way to make it work,” Clemantine said quickly. She looked at Pasha. “Ask if anyone else is interested. Qualified people, with diverse specialties. Let us know.”

Urban looked ready to object, but the link cut out before Riffan could hear what he had to say.