Concept YUS (Cross-World Murder Cases Book 1) Page 24

  Of course, this form of management is implemented only in the largest bioinorganic hybrid constructions, those that require an extraordinarily complex inventory, which would not be profitable enough on a small scale. To digress somewhat from the topic, it is comforting to note that all other Yusian forms of management are relatively close to ours “in conception, if not in efficiency.”

  Clearly, because of the distances, scope, the qualitative heterogeneousness, and a number of other factors, the union of five planets into a synchronically working system required that chronal connections be used between constructions that were never part of the same energy-based process. Such indirect connections could take place only through the mediation of an object in direct chronal connection with each of these constructions. Therefore, one of the fundamental tasks of the Yusians at this stage was to create special object-mediators capable of “maximal concentration of foreign time in a minimal volume” or, as Stein called them, “time accumulators,” the most essential quality of which is their “individual chronal emptiness.”

  I admit I was a little confused by all these notions. Their explanation probably lies in the fact that, in an energy-based process, the object-mediators accumulate in themselves the time emitted by the respective construction and then pass it on without transforming it into their own individual time, possibly because of preliminary erasure of their chronal memory. That way they could perform the role of neutral time transmitters, in effect enabling direct chronal connections between the two constructions.

  I thought about my trip from Earth to Eyrena. The tiles I had seen in the room with the transparent sphere Chuks called “starship” were themselves miniaturized object-mediators. When they put the one that contained “concentrated” Eyrena time in the sphere, chronal connections were established between the starship and Eyrena, the activation of which triggered the interaction necessary for our instantaneous relocation to the planet. The “external insulation veil” mentioned by Chuks simply confirmed Stein’s supposition that “the Yusians fly their starships along the spaceless tracks by placing them in capsules of absolute time.”

  OK, let’s assume that all this makes some sense so far. But where do we go from here? According to Chuks, our trip was to take from eleven to twenty-three days; it actually took fourteen days. The people from the base arrived in twenty-two days, and the starship shuttling between Eyrena and Earth takes practically just hours in either direction. So why all these differences in the traveling time?

  The answer was unexpected and shocking—we humans were the reason! I recalled in detail Chuks’s words again. When I asked him about the duration of the flight, he said, “May be between nine hours and eleven days and nine hours and twenty-three days. Depends on adaptation. If you not oppose it.”

  Yes! That’s right, “If you not oppose it!” Then I considered this response to be just alien irony, but now. The nine hours must be strictly fixed as the time necessary for the creation of the “insulation veil,” the establishment of indirect chronal connections and their activation. The number of days, however, really depended on me alone! I too, as just another material object within the scope of the sphere, or “starship,” had to come into chronal connection with Eyrena. But we must never forget the most precious quality of this particular piece of matter—the mind, the consciousness.

  While I had no direct evidence, I knew intuitively that when Yusians dealt with a material subject rather than object, their otherwise so reliable and precise management techniques stopped being either reliable or precise. They would be puzzled, maybe even confused, if this subject decided to confront them consciously, because its psyche was beyond their control. Human reactions are of a higher order: not just energy-based processes but also thoughts and feelings immeasurably more complicated than any kind of chronal or other mechanism!

  I stood up abruptly, excited by my conclusions, and paced back and forth. Yes, it was true. We humans don’t give in so easily, so automatically, to chronal manipulations. Our reactions are unpredictable. We are capable of mental resistance—but for how long? This ability of ours is not unlimited. And if the Yusians managed to get to its utmost limit, what would they find beyond? Nothing but more material objects to include in their ever-growing polyplanetary system?

  After gaining control of time, traveling in outer space—which until then had seemed pointless to the Yusians—suddenly acquired a new, profound meaning. Despite the unlimited energy they could draw from the vacuum and the incredible speeds reached by Yusian starships, their first trips to other star systems still took from ten to hundreds of years. Once they had reached a planet, however, the Yusians built their own centers for chronal management there and made it instantly accessible to them. They then charged their “batteries” with time and went on their way, and on and on—until they reached the Earth.

  Those diabolical constructions around their embassy must be centers for chronal management! And batteries—Stein’s “time accumulators”—some miniaturized while others—I suddenly felt weak. I paused by the window and, through the multilayered sheet of falling rain, gazed at the cones towering opposite. “The ultimate products of a metamorphosis that had began by modifying the Earth herb Sedum, which in each new phase took on new biological, nonbiological, and inorganic properties,” Stein laconically defined them. I now stood mesmerized by their brazen yellow-violet array, and it became painfully clear to me that he was aware of it all, he knew.

  Planetary time accumulators—that’s what the cones were!

  That was the main purpose of the entire Eyrenean metamorphic cycle! To weaken our psychic resistance by the persistent euphoria and then to withdraw our recollections—human time—to be implanted in the cone chronal accumulators—until they begin emitting it.

  They are emitting it in the direction of the Yusian base, definitely to a center for chronal management, which is connected with those centers on Earth and with others in the Yusian system. Yus is where the repeated cycles begin until stable, unbreakable chronal connections are established between the centers and our minds. Connections whose selective activation will enable instantaneous interactions, through which the Yusians manage their polyplanetary system. Through which they will begin ruling humankind—regardless of the thirty years of isolation! Here on Eyrena, the new colonists maintaining a direct chronal connection with Earth will be that link, mediating between Earth and the planets of the Yusian system. They will be reduced to just chronal mechanisms to be selectively activated by the Yusians.

  I don’t know how it had happened, but I was holding the Yusian effigy of Stein in my hand again. As I clutched it tightly with feverish despair, its warmth flowed through my body like a silent, mysterious wave.

  Down—down—I was sinking uncontrollably into the eternal memory of time. Down to the blind old woman and her endless shuffling of the colorful dead leaves.

  Chapter 28

  The defractor site was changed beyond recognition by the long rows of ferns, still delicate, tenderly glistening after the rain. I landed the shuttle right in their midst, near the coordination center. I was surprised to find the ground completely dry, even parched.

  “They were really thirsty.” I angrily kicked one of the plants, and the raindrops shaken off were quickly swallowed by the cracks below with gluttonous slurps. Shuddering at the sound, I looked around. Although I was quite familiar with the change, it still depressed me.

  The sole reminders of the original Earth Sedum in its modified grassy reincarnation were the hairs forming loose rings around the bases of the ferns. These ferns would be followed by its next transformation, because some time ago in the seeds of an ordinary Earth plant had been implanted the embryo of a monstrous alien idea, the realization of which was inevitable—perhaps.

  I circled the building from the rear end, sticking close to the wall, and peeked through the window of the narrow workspace where, three days ago, we had talked with Vernie. Again he was there, now seated comfortably in his swivel cha
ir, completely relaxed, his breathing deep and even. His profile suggested that he was dozing off with his eyes half-closed.

  I waited for about two minutes. He didn’t budge, so I walked around and entered the building, making as much noise as possible, went to the workspace, and knocked.

  “Yes!” I heard Vernie’s astonishingly energetic voice.

  When I opened the door, he was in front of the indicator panel, completely absorbed by his work. His fingers ran quickly over the keyboard, the numbers under the flickering symbols changing at lightning speed.

  “Ah! Simon!” he turned to me just for a moment and then bent over the keyboard again. “Come on in. I’m almost done.”

  I sat in the chair, still warm from his dozing body, and watched him. Why did he have to pretend to be busy?

  Finally he pulled out the tape with the indicator diagram, glanced at it, and then, sighing heavily, put it into a drawer of the work desk.

  “I came to talk about the defractor,” I said.

  “Again?” Vernie squinted at his watch and then, groaning, sat in the chair opposite me.

  “Yes, again,” I confirmed. “Could you explain, for example, why everything here is so lavish? And that’s despite the difficulties you had with receiving materials from Earth.”

  “We can’t afford to look like paupers before the Yusians, Simon. We should demonstrate some class and style.”

  “That I understand, although it still doesn’t make much sense. What makes even less sense is this hodgepodge of equipment with different functions and purposes. What kind of base is this anyway? Honestly, it rather looks like a crazy puzzle of different, unrelated objects all put together.”

  “I’m happy you see it that way.” Vernie laughed unexpectedly. “Can you imagine the way the Yusians see it? Complete disorientation! Yes, we were even lucky yesterday to have those two blunder into the biostation! As a matter of fact, this has nothing to do with the defractor.”

  “You built it just as a camouflage, is that it?”

  “Oh, no, no. We just built it here rather than in the biosector where it belongs. Actually, it served Reder and Stein pretty well. Mmm, yes, as I already pointed out to you, Simon, the goals we’re trying to achieve with the defractor are of utmost importance to us. Because of this, we have to take every precaution to foil the enemy.”

  “Only temporarily,” I accentuated, “because when the defractor starts functioning, your goals will become apparent sooner or later. Then the Yusians will see through your attempts to deceive them.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “So sure about what?”

  “Mmm—well, in short, about anything.”

  “What I am sure of, though, is that you consider me an enemy too. You’ve been doing a good job trying to fool me ever since I came here.”

  “Sorry, but I had no other option.” He sneaked another glance at his watch. “My job is really top secret.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not the only reason. It seems to me you’re trying to establish an alibi. So what are these problems you so obtrusively complain about all the time? What were you trying to get Larsen into with that insinuation about the defractor? Why did he decide not to be involved with the project?”

  “Well, yes, he decided! He doesn’t want to help, the egoist—”

  “Knock it off, Vernie! It’s time to speak frankly! We’re in a very complicated situation here. If we don’t unite our forces, our common sense, it will lead to disaster. Not only here on Eyrena, but for humanity!”

  “I understand.” He nodded glumly. “I’ve always known it, but—once the experiments are successful, Simon, we can talk again, and then I’ll explain.”

  “No! You must give me an explanation now!” I stood up, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “What sort of experiments are these? What are you trying to do, man! What is the real purpose of the defractor?”

  He was silent.

  “Vernie, we’re on the same side! I think we are right in what we want. All we need is just to choose the right way to do it. Let’s work together!”

  He still didn’t respond. I left him that way, tense and shaky, as if he just won a painful victory over his deadly enemy.

  When I boarded the shuttle again, I directed it to our base, although I had no intention of going there. I landed as soon as I passed the first cone, after the ferns where, only yesterday, the Eyrenean forest began. I got off and, crouching low, dashed back to the coordination center.

  I was just in time to see Vernie exit—not in the direction of one of the defractor buildings but to the left, through the ferns. There was no danger of my losing him, since the ferns came only up to his chest as he walked. I don’t think he was just strolling.

  I entered the building. Just as I expected, the workspace was unlocked. Here on Eyrena we keep our secrets primarily in our heads or in the restricted data banks, but one must always check for errors. I went straight to the drawer with the indicator diagram, took it out, and looked for the one dated three days before. I found it in no time because there were only two diagrams in the drawer. I compared that with today’s diagram: they were identical. That’s it! Vernie had loaded a sham program onto the control panel so that as soon as I arrived he could begin working on it. Since he obviously considered me ignorant, why should he bother to make even the slightest modifications? I put the diagrams back into the drawer and rushed for the exit.

  Vernie had walked about two hundred meters. I followed him cautiously. He was walking calmly; apparently I had disappeared from his view at a convenient time. He was not stopping or showing any signs of hesitation, which was surprising considering the complete change in the environment and its monotony. He was probably aiming for the only hill around, from where the strange Yusian observed the defractor every day as Shidexa rose.

  Because of the constant bending, peeking, and running, both my back and neck started hurting, and my legs began to tremble. I was assailed by troubling thoughts too. Yes, there were all sorts of nasty things happening on Eyrena, but the nastiest of all was the behavior of the people. It seemed we had all become so used to suspicions, provocations, betrayals, lies, and spying that these would probably be our distinguishing features until our dying days—maybe even in hell after that.

  Vernie reached the hill and started climbing. At the top suddenly appeared—Elia! I threw myself to the ground instantly; she could see me very easily from there. I had no choice but to crawl from here on. I started sweating. Why did they decide to meet on the hill?

  Very soon I heard their voices but couldn’t make out a single word. I tried to hurry through the ferns without making too much noise. An irritating smell filled my nose from the cracks below, making my eyes tear. I felt dizzy and, in an awkward movement, touched the plant in front of me near the base. The hairs stuck to my hand. When I tried to shake them off, they stuck to my other hand as well. While I was wondering how to get rid of them, I realized that something was missing. The voices!

  Was it possible that Elia and Vernie left, or were they just silent? I rose a little and looked up from behind the fern fronds but couldn’t see them. They were probably already descending the hill on the other side. I stood up and hurried to the top of the hill. Once there, I looked around furtively and then scanned the whole area. Elia and Vernie were gone.

  I continued searching, wiping my hands in my pants. What should I do now? I didn’t have a clue. Those two seemed to have been swallowed by the ground. And why not, after all?

  I looked more closely at the ground between the fern stems, and my suppositions were confirmed. I discovered a carefully camouflaged plate, no doubt blocking the entrance to some underground bunker. As a matter of fact, the hidden entrance was not at all easy to find, discernible only as a faint square about two yards across. It was covered by a thick layer of soil – as cracked and furrowed as the surrounding floor, and the ferns here looked no different from those elsewhere.

  I started looking for a
lever that would lift the plate. Most likely it was controlled remotely, but there should be some other option in case the electronics failed. At last I found it—a matte, pale-rose button with a diameter of two or three centimeters. I memorized the place and receded through the ferns.

  I spent around twenty minutes like this, in the stressful state of waiting and asking myself questions I could not answer. Then I heard the specific hiss of the hydraulic system underneath, and the plate started lifting up until the ferns on it became nearly horizontal. Shortly after, in the frame of the gaping hole, Elia and Vernie appeared. When they stepped away, the plate slid sideways back into place.

  “How I wish this were over once and for all!” Vernie said.

  “Sometimes I feel like we shouldn’t even start it.” Elia grimaced in disgust.

  “It’s too late.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  With the same intonation, and probably for the same reason, Larsen had said that two days ago. What in the world was it too late for, though!

  Unfortunately, Elia and Vernie parted without discussing anything further. He headed straight for the defractor, and she for her shuttle nearby. I was worried she might see my shuttle as she took off, but fortunately she was flying toward the biosector, and at any rate, she’d probably covered the shuttle’s transparent floor with the rug.

  As soon as they were out of sight, I approached the button and pressed it. The masked plate lifted at once. I stepped on the platform at the entrance to the bunker, and a few seconds later, it plummeted downward.