Cross of the Legion (16 page)

"You guys all right?" the tacnet crackled.

"Nothing to report," I replied. There were little recesses lining the walls like monk's cells, with desks built into the walls and chairs facing inwards. Mute doc readers and piles of books and paper spilled over each desk down to the floor. A ledge just above desk level ran around the room, crowded with the remains of thousands of dead candles. Dirty mounds of encrusted candle wax had oozed down to the floor, and blackened candle stubs littered the floor along with piles of ancient books and papers and what looked like datacards.

I reached down and picked up a book. The characters on the cover were unknown to me. I opened it. It was still in good shape. We'd be able to read it!

"Fingers—what's this one about?"

He peered at it in the brilliant white light of my spot.

"Sorry, Thinker—that's Yahwen. My education was cut short, you'll recall."

"I can read it," the witch volunteered. She drifted over to me and took the book in her slender fingers. "'Death of the Past.' This book mourns the vanished kingdom of Lanai. It's all that's left—just this book. Lanai was…luminous. It blossomed, like a lovely flower, for a brief period. Then it was extinguished, by greed and stupidity. Their race is gone now. It's just a memory."

The witch sighed, and carefully placed the book on a shelf. Then she began touching her torch to a series of primitive oil lamps set in the wall. They lit up fitfully. Dragon looked around the room, totally alert. Trigger stood near the wall, his Manlink up and scanning. Doctor Doom examined a pile of dusty books with Kesan, who glanced at the witch nervously. Fingers was also looking through the books, probably searching for a clue to the location of the treasure.

A deafening boom shook us all violently and I almost jumped out of my skin. The floor trembled. A great cloud of dust shot out of our tunnel and filled the room. Something huge had fallen. Dragon cursed.

"We're cut off," he confirmed. "We won't be going back that way, that's sure."

"It's all right," DD said. "I didn't much like that route anyway."

"She says we're going to die here," Kesan said. The witch was by her side—she had discarded her torch.

"Ask her who's going to kill us," I said.

"Time. She says Father Time is going to kill us."

"Tell her we're immortals. We're not afraid of Father Time. And tell her—if anyone dies, she's going to be the first."

"She knows that."

"Good."

The witch sank to her knees on the hard stone floor and began chanting quietly to herself.

"She's praying," Kesan said, "for an easy death."

"Guess what," Dragon said. "There's no way out of here."

"Are you serious?"

"Look at your tacmap. There are no exits from this room. The walls are solid stone. You'll notice the comsets are dead. This place appears to be comsealed. That's interesting. It wasn't before. Bring that woman over here."

She stood before him, gazing bravely into his burning eyes.

"What is this room?" Dragon asked.

"It is a reading room. It is also a cleansing room. It is where we kill persistent intruders."

"Is there a way out?"

"Only Father Time can release us. The crawlway has never before been blocked. I do not understand it."

"She can't lie to us," DD said. "It doesn't look good."

"We don't have time for this," I said quietly.

"Time is all we have," the Witch replied, looking around gloomily.

"And are we going to get to meet Father Time?" Dragon asked.

"Yes. He will surely come, and then you will all die."

"When will he come?"

"Soon. Perhaps a hundred winters. Perhaps sooner."

"Take five, guys." Dragon was always confident. The fellow sometimes amazed me.

I sat on one of the creaky old desk chairs, sipping water from my canteen. We had comtops on, but our visors were open. The witch was back on her knees, mumbling to herself. She certainly did remind me of Moontouch, but this one was a lot younger—just a kid. She was incredibly beautiful—smooth flawless skin, gleaming waist-length hair. Only her eyes hinted of the nightmares within.

Kesan was right beside her, watching her suspiciously, whispering to her every once in awhile. Fingers ignored them both, continuing his sporadic search through the crumbling ancient books for a clue to the treasure. Trigger was up against the wall, his Manlink balanced on one hip. He looked like he was just waiting for someone to shoot. DD was trying to get one of those ancient readers to work, but it did not look promising. Dragon was in another chair, totally relaxed, his E across his knees. He always reminded me of a bloodcat, watching the world through predator's eyes, coiled to pounce at the slightest provocation.

We weren't trapped there, of course. With the Manlink alone, we could blast our way out of there—but Dragon had decided to wait. It was fine with me. I knew his patience was limited, and for the witch's sake I hoped whatever he was waiting for would put in an appearance soon.

It did. There was a sputtering cough, and one section of the wall started to spit out a smoky haze. The witch did not move.

"Comtops! Cut the spots!" Our visors slammed shut. My E was at my shoulder. Trigger was ready to cut loose. I jumped as the flickering oil lamps on the wall exploded violently—Dragon snuffed them out with vac blasts, almost deafening us and instantly plunging the room into a total darkness. My darksight cut in, lighting up everything for me in a pale green. Fingers, Kesan and the witch were now blind, but the rest of us could see just fine.

"Chem smoke," DD reported. "It's a smoke grenade. Nothing lethal." A great cloud of blue smoke hissed into the room, obscuring one wall—except that our darksight could see right through the smoke. The room shuddered. A sharp crack, then a dull grinding. A narrow vertical slit appeared in the wall. A great stone door was opening—no. It stopped, partially open. A tall figure appeared from within, struggling to squeeze through the narrow opening.

"Hold your fire," I ordered. The creature forced itself through the opening awkwardly, pausing in the smoke, drawing itself up to an imposing height, a floor-length black cloak swirling around it. I had it right in my sights, and my E was set for auto x-min. One bad move and he'd be shredded meat.

"It is time," the Witch said fearfully.

"Who enters the Domain of the Dead," a powerful voice boomed forth, "and what do ye seek?" It was only a man, I could see, standing tall, cloaked from head to foot—a forbidding figure.

"We seek knowledge," I shouted. "We seek the past."

"You have found the past," the phantom replied, "but lost the future. You have entered a forbidden realm—the Portals of Doom. The God-kings of Padan stir in their graves. You disturb their sleep. Time touches your weary limbs, now. Time brings an end to all things." He raised a spidery arm and gestured grandly.

The smoke hung in the air. It was totally silent. One wrong move and he's history.

"We welcome you," he said, "to the Land of the Lost. Pray to your dark Gods, for you join them now." He gestured again, vigorously, his robes flapping around him. The smoke was fading. The phantom continued standing there, grand and tall.

"Where is the dust?" the witch hissed in Oduran.

The phantom sighed, and seemed to lose a few mils in height. "The dispenser no longer works, child. Just like the door. And the stone blocks. It's all too old. I press the control to release one block, and another falls. It's no use. Nothing works any more. We have lost, my darling. We have lost, at last. I knew this day would come. I pray for your soul."

"Please don't kill him!" the witch shrieked. "He's my father! Please! He's a good man!"

Chapter 9
Father Time

We had dox with Father Time and his lovely daughter. We had no desire to kill him, even if he had done his best to kill us. He was exactly what we were looking for. And who could blame him for defending his realm? We all do what we must do. Hidden demons whisper in our ears, and we are helpless to oppose them. We relit the oil lamps, and popped open the dox and sat on the floor around a disintegrating trunk of books we confiscated for a table.

"That's very good," Father Time said quietly, setting his dox carefully back on the trunk. He was old, I could see. Very old. A mortal, fading away, lines all over his face, his hair all white, his body slowly shutting down, the parts ceasing to renew themselves. How ironic, that Galantor's last guardian, its last, all-powerful wizard, was an old tired mortal, slowly dying of the primitive, terrifying disease of untreated age.

"I am the Guardian," he responded to my question, "and this is my daughter, Blossom."

"And what do you do here, in this building?" Dragon asked. "What is your mission?" Dragon thought in terms of missions. I guess we all did. We were all slaves, of someone. We were all on a mission, seeking death like moths hurling ourselves into an irresistible flame.

"I guard the past. I guard the archives of Imperial Padan. I guard the lost realm of Galantor. The inheritance of the God-Kings is here. The secrets of the ages are here. The knowledge of all the dynasties is here. Everything we have learned since the dawn of time."

"The inheritance!" Fingers broke in. "The treasure! I knew it! Can you take us to the treasure?"

"The inheritance of the dynasties is all around us—and below us," the old man said. "The knowledge of the ages. The history of the world. Everything humans have fought and died and dreamed for. It's all here."

"No, no, I mean the treasure! Gold! Jewels! Diamonds!"

"Treasure?" The Guardian smiled sadly. "Knowledge is our only treasure. Gold? Jewels? No—I don't think so."

"No treasure?" Fingers was stricken.

"Oh, there may be some of that around here somewhere, too," the Guardian added carelessly. "I think I saw a room full of gold once—but I can't remember where. I was not paying attention."

"A room full of gold!" Fingers squealed.

"Guardian, we are not here for gold," I said. "We are here for knowledge. We seek the truth. Have you read this knowledge of the ages you guard? Can you tell us about the past?"

The Guardian smiled—a thin, bitter smile. "Yes, soldier, I can tell you about the Past. The Past is all I have. It is all I have ever had, except for my daughter, Blossom. For ages I have read—about the past. My heart grieves, for all those who went before us, for those brave explorers who cut their way out of the past with the sword of resolve or the torch of knowledge and light. Yes—I know about the past!" He stared straight ahead, focused on nothing. Dragon passed a hand in front of the Guardian's face.

"You're blind," Dragon said.

"Yes." The Guardian smiled again. "A lifetime of reading, by candlelight. Yes, the Guardian is blind. The steward of the past, the world's last reader, is blind. Blossom is my eyes. She reads for me now. I will die soon, and she will inherit the past. Then the weight of the ages will be on her. Perhaps I should burn it all before I go. What good is all this knowledge? No one reads it—only us. Why should I let my lovely daughter inherit this monstrous curse?"

"I will guard it to my death," Blossom said quietly.

"Don't question the value of this knowledge," I said. "We seek information that will save the lives of millions—maybe billions. We've come from half way across the galaxy on our quest."

"Star travellers!" the old man exclaimed. "Remarkable. We have not been visited…in countless generations. Where do you come from?"

"We are from ConFree—the Confederation of Free Worlds."

"Con Free. Free worlds! I won't ask what they are free from. And what is it you want to know?"

"Over a hundred thousand of your years ago," I said, "there was an age when your planet—Odura—had contacts with civilizations on other worlds. Even then, your historians were recording everything. Isn't that true?"

"That was the First Dynasty. It was founded by star travellers fleeing the Empire of the Black Sun. They were mighty warriors. They made their stand here, allied with the K'tak and other worlds, and drove the Empire from the Sector. The Empire was never to return. Yes—they founded a world state. Their star fleets explored the Cosmos, and their historians recorded it all."

"The Empire of the Black Sun. Who were they?"

"Humans. A great galactic empire. Brilliant, fierce, gifted—they ruled the entire known galaxy."

"What happened to them?"

"Gone. Vanished. Dissolved in the dusts of time."

"And the K'tac. Who were they?"

"Aliens. Psychics of enormous power. Irresistible. Fleeing some nameless disaster, they paused here, briefly, then moved on. And out of history."

"The O's!" I exclaimed. My skin crawled. We were getting closer. I could feel it!

"We're looking for a world," I continued. "It was in this Sector. The K'tac called it Chudit. We're looking for any information at all you have on this world."

"Why don't you go there, rather than here?"

"We don't know where it is. We're trying to find it."

The Guardian smiled. "You've lost a world! How careless. Well, you've come to the right place. We've got lost cities, vanished empires, doomed dynasties, failed civilizations, lost planets—whatever you want. We've got it all."

"Chudit. Have you heard of Chudit?"

His brow wrinkled. His blind eyes stared into nothingness. "Chudit…Chudit. Doesn't ring any bells. But planets had many names. We probably used another name, at the time. If you can describe the place, if you have a general idea of where it is, we'll find it. We'll find it on the star charts. Remember the star charts, Blossom?"

"No, Father. I don't."

"We'll find it. Millions of lives to save, you say. And you're star travellers, from across the galaxy. Seeking knowledge, here. That's wonderful! Did you hear that, Blossom? We have customers—after all these years! My God, isn't that lovely! Get the cards, child—the cards!"

"The cards?"

"The cards! On the shelf over number three—quick, child!"

She returned with a handful of dusty little parchment cards, covered with strange characters. The Guardian handed me one with trembling fingers, and forced a writing implement into my hand.

"Sign at the bottom," he said. I signed the card.

"Keep it," he said. "It's your library card. Welcome to the Library of Imperial Padan. All the knowledge of the ages is right here. We'll find your world. Don't you worry about that!"

***

"Watch your step!" I stumbled on the stairs, gaping at the wonders around us. The library was a titanic hollow cylinder seemingly cut into the bedrock of the planet, far below the surface. We were creeping down a spiral metal staircase that wound around a central cylindrical core. From the staircase, metal footbridges led outwards to the different levels. The huge building was mostly dark. From the stairs I peeked downwards into an abyss—a void, leading ever deeper. Feeble little lights twinkled far below on the different levels, but I could not see the bottom. Blossom carried a candle lantern, glass panels shielding the flame. We had our visor lights. The Guardian didn't need light. He knew the way by now.

"Deadman, what a place!"

"Each level is an era," the Guardian said. "Each level contains the knowledge of that era. The metal is starite—indestructible and fireproof. The archives are housed in individual starite cubicles. We worry a lot about fire. It's very dry here." Dry and cold. I could see my breath in the air.

"Could we look at some of the books?" I paused by one of the bridges.

"Certainly. Follow me." The wizard led us over the footbridge to one of the levels. We found ourselves in a circular corridor that ran all the way around the outside of the hollow cylinder. Individual cubicles faced us—massive metal doors, partially open, marked each cubicle. We entered one. Shelves of books and documents faded away into the distance. There must have been millions of them. One shelf was full of little metal cubes and lined with boxy little readers with small screens.

"What are these?"

"Don't know. It's entitled 'Voyages of the Starship Prometheus'. We've never been able to get the readers to work, so I don't know what's in the cubes. I've often wondered where they went, and what wonders they saw. It's very unusual. Star travel was almost unknown in the Era of the Warring States. There are no other records of the starship Prometheus."

"How about this?" DD interrupted, holding a large, leather-bound book.

The Guardian ran his fingers over the cover and sighed. "'Campaign in Eldorath.' Yes—this is a stirring history of the great struggle for the future of the world. An unforgettable tribute to the common soldier. Two great armies grapple with each other for years. Incredible suffering, privation, hardship. Unbelievable heroism, savagery, sacrifice, and casualties, on both sides. The author is the sole survivor of his original regiment after three years of constant warfare. He says he wrote the book so that the world will never forget the sacrifices made by his heroic comrades, for their civilization. And yet, his side lost, his civilization was extinguished, and the world has long ago forgotten the epic struggle in Eldorath. Only I remember." He carefully placed the volume back on the bookshelf. "Let us move on," he said. "We have a long way to go. The Dissolution lies ahead of us. Then the Commonwealth of Nations. And before that, the Thousand Years War that flowed from the final collapse of Imperial Padan. Then Dynasties, rolling into the past almost as far as you can imagine, to the Foundation. Giants once walked on this planet. But now it is inhabited by pygmies."

We returned to the spiral staircase, and headed further down, into the dark, into the past. It was dead quiet on the bottom level. It looked as if no one had been here for a very long time. I looked up into the void. Little lights twinkled up there like stars.

"All right," the Guardian said, adjusting his robes. "This is ground zero—the First Dynasty, the Foundation—127,696 years ago. Most of the records from this era have been destroyed by age and war and looting and natural disasters. But there's a lot still here. Including the star charts. Generations of scholars have done their best to piece this age together. I hope we can find some good information on your planet. Follow me, star travellers. We're headed into the past."

We wandered through pitch-black corridors lined with shelves full of books and paper, our visor lights and Blossom's candle lamp casting fearful shadows over the metal ceilings. The old man's words echoed in my mind. The star charts! I was salivating, already.

***

"Whitestar Alliance Navy," Blossom said aloud. "Star Fleet Command—stellar secret." We gathered around a large table covered with stacks of crumbling star charts and rolled-up sector charts.

"Yes, yes, child, that's it. Let me feel it." His fingers trembled over the chart. DD had mounted a brilliant white E-light up on one wall and the room was glowing. The walls were covered with shelves full of datapaks and readers and infocards, and the ceiling was lined with dead light panels.

"Warning. Sensitive stellar-secret information. Disclosure of this information will cause grave damage to the Whitestar Alliance and…"

"Skip that part! Go on, go on, what else does it say?" The old man quivered with anticipation.

"Starchart—Operational—Sector White—Kalalan."

"That's it! Kalalan—that's our world. You call it Odura—and this is the local sector. Your world will be in there. This is what you are seeking. Let's open up this one—careful!" It was part of a large, bulky book of star charts. Little pieces of plasticized paper chipped off and fell away as we cautiously exposed the chart.

"That's it—that's it. We need the cover chart for Sector White. Is that it?"

"Yes, Father—'Sector White—Kalalan—Navchart—Operational—Ports and Routes—distances in Stellar Years…'"

"Yes! Now look at this starchart. All inhabited worlds are marked by the notations next to their stars. All downside starports are also listed. Just see the key. If your info is good, your world is there—guaranteed. Here, hold down that edge." One edge of the map was curling up on us. The Guardian moved something over to hold it down. Fingers began making a strange gurgling sound. He pointed shakily at the map, croaking, but no words came out.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked. We all stared at him.

He picked up the thing that the Guardian had moved over to hold down the edge of the chart. It was a solid gold brick, gleaming richly now in the spotlight.

"Gold," he gasped at last. "Gold!"

"Oh, you can keep that if you like it," the Guardian said. "It's really a bit too heavy for use as a paperweight." Fingers carefully backed into the shadows with his prize.

"I knew you could do it!" Kesan said from his side. Her eyes gleamed.

"Stick with me, kid, and we'll rule the world!"

We went back to the starchart. There were millions of stars in the sector, and thousands of inhabited worlds. I ripped my tacmod off my belt and pointed the eye at the starchart. "Find Chudit, Sweety."

"Fourteen candidates, Three," Sweety responded immediately. She listed them. "All fourteen have the second planet in the life zone, as required. Only two are inhabited, according to the chart."

"That's it then!" I said excitedly. "It's one of those two! Names!"

"According to the starchart," Sweety responded, "Rana 2 and Rima 2 are both listed as Alliance worlds. Rana 2's starport is listed as Port Promise; Rima 2's starport is called Paradise Found."

"Guardian," I said, "Rana 2 and Rima 2. Do you have anything further on these planets? We can explore both if necessary. But it would be faster to pin it down now. One of these worlds must have been known as 'Chudit' to the K'tac. That's how the K'tac translated it for us in our language. Which one?"