The Depths of Time (52 page)

Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. She looked around the room and saw the clusters of furniture on their carpets, seemingly hanging in midair. She looked down again, and watched as the orbital tug rolled back into view. She got her bearings, then looked out through the forward wall, at.the fleet of ships, operational and derelict, that accompanied the station in its orbit. The room bloomed with light as the daylit planet swung past again.

Then the room lights came slowly up, though the walls and floor remained transparent. The people and objects in the room, which had been merely outlines and shadows, regained their solid forms. It was somehow stranger still to see brightly lit, real-looking objects seemingly suspended, motionless, in space.

Raenau stepped out from behind his desk and off the carpet onto the utterly transparent glass floor. He moved with a nonchalance that was a trifle overstudied, a sense of trying too hard to be casual about it.

He looked down at the stars beneath his feet and puffed thoughtfully on his cigar.
“
Here I am,
”
he said,
“
master of all I don
’
t survey.
”

“
I beg your pardon?
”
Koffield asked. He still sat, composedly, in his chair, well over any momentary surprise or shock he might have felt when the floor vanished. An interesting note, that. Both Raenau and Norla had felt the need to prove themselves, demonstrate their courage, by stepping out into nothingness. Koffield had stayed put.

“
Master of all I don
’
t survey!
’
Raenau repeated, and gestured downward with both hands.
“
I can quite literally see the whole universe from here, as the station rotates on its axis and orbits the planet. Sooner or later, every direction comes into view. The one thing I can
’
t see, the one direction I can
’
t look in, is toward the station I
’
m supposed to be running.
That’s
always invisible. They built this office—the whole damn Gondola—mostly as a way of impressing people, for the psychological effect. Make it all look big and grand. Makes the symbolism of not being able to see it from here even stranger, don
’
t you think?
”

“
To be frank,
”
said Koffield,
“
I
’
ve been thinking on that and many similar points since the moment we came aboard. The Gondola is a shrine to the spirit of narcissism. It seemed to have been designed for the sole purpose of being looked at from different angles, built merely for the sake of being constantly admired.
”

Raenau nodded.
“
I don
’
t know that the architect would
admit
any such thing, but it
’
s probably true all the same.
”

“
Who
was
the architect? I mean no offense, but it seems to me that the person who built the Gondola must have been extremely self-absorbed, and yet extremely self-unaware.
”

Raenau laughed out loud, took the cigar from his mouth, and held a most theatrical finger to his lips, signaling for silence.
“
Careful who hears you say that,
”
he said in a loud stage whisper.
“
The Gondola and DeSilvo Tower are based on sketches left behind by the great Dr. Oskar DeSilvo himself.
”

“
That,
”
said Koffield,
“
does not surprise me in the least.
”

Raenau chuckled to himself once again and walked back to his desk. He sat down and twisted a knob on the recessed control panel. The nothingness, the stars and the sky under Norla
’
s feet, faded away into the dull silver of the solid floor. If she looked very carefully, and very closely, she could still catch a glimpse of the brightest objects as they rolled past, but it wasn
’
t easy.

Quite suddenly, she realized how foolish she must have looked, standing there peering down at the floor between her feet. Blushing with absolutely pointless embarrassment, she returned to her own chair and sat down.

“
Damned translucent walls,
”
Raenau growled.
“
They drive me nuts. It
’
s the same everywhere, in- all the private areas on the Gondola. Everyone moves in, twittering about the view, the view, the view—and then they realize they can
’
t stand having the universe wheeling past every minute of the day. The place is built for the sake of the views—and we
’
ve all put up shutters and screens and hangings to block it out.
”

Raenau stubbed out his cigar in the dish-shaped receptacle—an ashtray, that
’
s what it was called—and pulled a box out of a drawer on his desk. He opened it and took another cigar from it. He was on the verge of putting the box back when he hesitated for a moment. Norla hoped that the man had realized how rude it would be to light another of the damned noxious things in front of guests, and would therefore put them away.

But Raenau
’
s hesitation had another motive, albeit one still couched in manners.
“
Sorry,
”
he said.
“
I should have offered these
”
—he held the box up—
”
to you people. I don
’
t suppose either of you would care for a cigar?
”

“
No, thank you,
”
Norla replied, hoping her tone wasn
’
t too vehement.
“
I don
’
t, ah, smoke.
”

“
Hardly anyone does,
”
Raenau said sadly.
“
Admiral Koffield? How about you?
”

Norla had been expecting a refusal as firm as her own, if perhaps a more diplomatic one. Instead, Anton Koffield got a strange, faraway look in his eye.
“
I haven
’
t had a proper cigar in twenty years subjective,
”
he said.
“
Nearly a century and a half, objective time.
”

“
Cuban,
”
said Raenau, offering the box to Koffield.
“
Not Cuban seed grown twenty light-years from Earth, or
Cuban-made from Texas leaf, or any of that nonsense. The
real thing.
”
The tone of his voice made it plain he was try
ing to tempt Koffield, but extolling the virtues of Cuba
meant nothing to Norla.
”

“
How the devil could you get true Cuban cigars out
here?
”
Koffield asked, standing up and taking the box. He opened it and examined the contents with an expression that was almost reverent.

“
Let
’
s just say I have friends in low places. And shipping techniques have improved some while you
’
ve been, ah, out of circulation.
”

Koffield selected a cigar and handed the box back to Raenau, who put it carefully away. Koffield held the cigar under his nose and sniffed deeply, then held it to his ear and seem to
listen
to it for some reason, as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Raenau produced a complicated-looking small gadget from his jacket pocket and handed it to Koffield, who used it to snip the end off the cigar. Raenau produced a second device from the same pocket, and Koffield had to puzzle over it for a second, before he got it to create a small jet of flame. He put the cigar in his mouth, and played the fire from the flame-maker over the far end of the cigar, while studiously sucking in his breath through the cigar.

It took a good long while for this process to get the thing lit and burning to Koffield
’
s satisfaction, and then, of course, Raenau had to repeat the entire procedure in order to get
his
cigar going.

It was plain that there was some sense of ritual about the whole thing, that Koffield had gained a lot of points with Raenau simply by understanding what to do, and because he appreciated the dubious pleasure of inhaling toxic fumes. Just as with making the floor vanish, the cigars had been a test. Of what, exactly, Norla was not sure—but it was clear that Koffield had passed with flying colors.

“
I don
’
t wish to be rude,
”
Norla lied. She damned well
did
want to be rude, to both of them.
“
But you did wish to see us urgently, and we have traveled quite a long way to get here, on what Admiral Koffield said he thought were important matters. Perhaps we could begin?
”

“
You
’
re right,
”
said Raenau.
“
Let
’
s get on with it, and get that agenda cleared. I guess I just wanted to enjoy the moment, now that you two finally made it on in. I don
’
t know if you two realize it, but this moment, right now, marks the end of a mystery that
’
s lived on for a very long time. And I get to be the one who hears the answer first.
”

“
I
’
ve afraid we
’
ve got some bad news on that score, Commander Raenau,
”
Koffield replied.
“
When we left her, no one aboard the
Dom Pedro IV
had any idea what went wrong, or how the ship malfunctioned. Nor do we understand how she could have made it here at all.
”

“
No, no, you misunderstand me,
”
Raenau said.
“
What made your ship malfunction isn
’
t the mystery I care about, though others do.
You’re
the mystery that interests me. You, and the message we think you sent.
”

“
What
’
s so special about us?
”
asked Chamdray.
“
We were aboard a ship that never arrived, and we
’
re certainly not the first ship that
’
s happened to.
”

“
True enough.
”
Raenau shrugged.
“
There
’
s no one good reason I can give you for it. Some cases get famous, and others don
’
t. Something is strange enough, or bizarre enough, to seize the imagination. People invent conspiracies, or concoct explanations. There
’
s a strange detail that intrigues someone. A rumor, a story, takes on a life of its own. Something gets blown out of proportion. Probably the
Chrononaut VI
never coming back, and because Pulvrick died before she could deal with the message. Anyway, there
’
s a whole legend—a whole series of legends—that
’
s grown up around the loss of the
Dom Pedro IV.
”

“
So we
’
re famous?
”
Norla asked, amused by the idea.

Raenau hesitated, obviously not quite sure how to reply.

Koffield spoke into the silence.
“
Give it to us straight, Commander. Don
’
t be polite about it. We need information more than courtesy. If we
’
re supposed to be monsters with ten-centimeter fangs, tell us.
”

Raenau looked at Koffield in mild surprise.
“
Strange that being notorious is what you thought of first. Do you have a guilty conscience?
”

Norla would have been fascinated to hear his answer to that question, but Koffield did not reply.

Their host laughed and went on.
“
Well, who doesn
’
t have something to feel guilty about? But I can tell you it
’
s nothing like that. Well, maybe with some people, the Glister refugees
’
descendants, it is, but never mind that.
”

Norla was more than a little taken aback to hear Raenau mention Glister, but Koffield revealed nothing. She wanted to take the bait, and there was something in Raenau
’
s expression that told her he wanted to be asked, but now was not the time or place. There were other things they needed to know about.
“
Let
’
s just stick to the point, Commander,
”
she said.
“
We don
’
t know much of anything. What is it you
’
re trying to say? Who
’
s Pulvrick, and what about the
Chrononaut?”

“
Of course. You don
’
t know it. My apologies. Short and sweet: The disappearance of the
Dom Pedro IV
used to be well-known. It isn
’
t really, these days. You
’
re not famous
anymore.
These days, you
’
re part of an old story that most people know just a little bit about. People know there
’
s a legend, or a mystery, but they don
’
t know exactly what it is. Things have gotten mixed up and forgotten. I
’
m sure your arrival will spark a new flurry of interest, but I
’
ve dug around in the records enough to know that the versions of the story best known to the general public are way off the mark. I had to do a lot of homework before I understood the situation well enough to suit myself.
”