Chapter XII

"For a moment, I thought we'd never find you! We went back to the council and told them what had happened... We have another hyperspatial physicist here to help us out with the calculations. We just needed a signal to lock onto so we could find the ship... Don't ask why. (It's just more hyper-mechanical theory.) Thank Sajuuk, you managed to send a signal..." The bright voice of the acting commander was amazing to hear after so long, but it was somehow unnerving. The tech talked like he was at a party.

"It's a little more complicated than that..." Ordin croaked into the intercom. Somehow, the return of the Ir Miilas was only making him feel uneasy.

Ziir's voice came on as the old crew made its way back up to the forgotten airlocks. "We need some supplies, we're going to fix the prison ship's hyperdrive."

"Yes, of course." the tech squealed with joy. "We have a team on its way now. We have a whole new replacement core. Should be fixed within the hour."

It was all too much to absorb at one time. Creta, Ordin and Ziir, with Niilan in their grip, had just reached the airlock where the bright, happy tech was waiting. When he saw them, however, his smile melted away. "What happened?"

Ordin looked over his rag-covered shoulder, dusted himself off, wiped the dirt off his face, looking for some egregious flaw in himself. It never occurred to either of them, that time had not passed equally on both sides. For the tech, it had only been ten hours. For the commander, it had been almost three years.

The commander walked through the lock for the first time in an eternity. The cabin of the ship was like a dream. He'd seen it several times in his nights on the prison ship, but this was the first time that it had been real. He took a seat in the smooth, familiar padding of the chair and looked forward at the main viewer. He felt, somehow, like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Creta returned to her station and looked over the shiny controls. She remembered them from those three years ago, and her memory changed her view. To be aboard this ship was like a jolt to her subconscious mind, forcing her to realize that her time on the ancient prison ship was over. She really was going home.

Or, she was going toward it. She swallowed and frowned slightly.

Ziir was smiling. He closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the air. It tasted sweet. His home was only a few hours away, now. His real home. He knew then that he would never work in space again. The moment he set foot on Hiigara, he would loose the ability to tear himself away from it. He would take a job on the homeworld... No matter how little it paid, he promised himself that he would find a way to make a living, if only to bring peace to the yearning within him.

He looked down at the copilot again, and saw her frown. "What is it, officer Mirin?"

"I..." she couldn't at first find any words to answer him. "I want to go home."

"Hiigara." Ziir thought for a moment. "We will go there together."

"No... I..." she rubbed her head. "I can't go back. How will I be accepted there? How will your people greet a Taiidan?"

Ziir looked out into the void for a moment, taking in the nothingness. "They won't. But is acceptance what you really want?"

Creta thought.

 

* * *

The new hyperdrive core for the prison ship was successfully installed. The small team of engineers came to the top of the ramp in the central chamber, Ziir leading them.

When he reached the ground floor of the cavern, a small crowd of exiles had assembled. A few cheered in the background, but the old man who stood at the front of the crowd said nothing. He was completely motionless but for the grin that formed on his wrinkled face.

"The drive is repaired. The coordinates of your planet Kharak are locked in and ready... I wish you and your people luck."

The old man nodded.

Suddenly Ziir remembered. "Oh, yes... I must give you something... Something for the future." He had decided earlier that he was going to do something to help the Kushan people through the chaos that he remembered would come to them. But he had not decided what.

The intercom buzzed. A'Kuul's monotone came through the speaker. "We have to leave in about six minutes or our temporal coordinates will be lost." Apparently, he had already learned the basics of calculated time travel.

"Okay, I'm coming..." Ziir stumbled, trying to think of something. One idea came to him, and he took it. He rushed off to one of the tents and came back to the old man with his arms full of A'Kuul's old rolled-up sheets of metal. He handed them to Dhir.

"What are they?" the elder asked, opening one and looking over all the equations.

"They are... I suppose you could call them scrolls. They contain all the key mathematical formulas for a hyperspace wavefront."

The look of confusion that came to Dhir's face was not unexpected.

Ziir restated his words. "One day, they will tell you... How to reach the stars."

Dhir smiled. "How strange... We shall call them the Star Metal Scrolls. We'll keep them safe for the day you speak of. I thank you, Ziir Nabaal."

It was not until he was ascending the ramp again that Ziir realized what he had just done.

 

* * *

Ordin, in the final minute before departure, found himself sitting under the great mural again. Part of him was screaming to him to return to the ship before he became trapped in the past for good, but somehow those thoughts sank below the rest. He found his conscious mind empty but for the image before his eyes. Even as he knew that he would have only one chance to leave, he was completely relaxed as he watched that chance float by and vanish into the void.

"Ordin! Get back here! We have to jump in forty seconds!"

"I don't think I'm coming."

The voice on the other end was swearing loudly and angrily. "You can make it if you run! Come on!"

"You don't understand. I've chosen to stay aboard the prison ship. I..." He stopped. The words had frozen in his mouth... A cold tear dripped down his face. "I'm going home."

"Commander, the rift is sealing. If we go, we will never be able to come back..."

"Please, go now. This is my own choice."

"Commander!" The voice yelled.

 

* * *

The tech was shouting into the intercom at the top of his lungs as the timer on the console approached twenty seconds. He set the transmitter down and turned to the crew. His face was red, his veins were bulging from his neck. "We're going to stay... We'll have to get him back aboard and figure out a way to get back without the rift--"

"Sir, I don't..."

"Forget it. Launch." Creta said, calmly.

The tech looked like he was about to explode. He looked back and forth between her and the prison ship that was now growing smaller outside the window. His mouth moved but never formed a complete word.

Creta put a hand on the Tech's shoulder... Somehow, all his paralyzed confusion seemed to drip away like melting ice, from the touch of the hand.

The Tech's head dropped.

"Let him go."

The cabin was remarkably silent for a moment. When the timer reached the critical moment, the crew sat down and strapped in.

"Activate the drive." the tech said, sourly.

The Ir Miilas was engulfed in the bright yellow waves of energy, pulled across the ages by the soft, strong hand of the Bentusi power core.

 

* * *

The ship materialized in the void, in the time of its origin. It appeared from a burst of bright blue, tearing across the emptiness in the space outside the galaxy.

The prison ship had gone. The space was totally empty now... The void was interrupted only by the Ir Miilas and the rounded, familiar outlines of the three Bentusi stations hovering nearby. The trade ships moved slowly, like fish through the depths of an ocean, toward the small vessel.

"We feel equilibrium. Your movement was successful." came the deep voice of the massive vessel.

"Yes," Creta answered.

The reply was dark, serious. "You will tell no one of what has happened here. Your hyperspace technicians must, regretfully, report to us to have all memory of what they have learned erased. No one may be allowed to retain information of temporal hyperspace dynamics. We apologize."

This made Creta uneasy. "Doesn't the council know about this?" she asked the tech who sat, looking out in awe at the great machines.

"No... Just them."

Ziir picked up the comm. "You believe that we, the bound, are not yet responsible enough to be allowed time travel?" There was a slight hint of contempt in his voice, but it was mostly due to the fact that he was not eager to have his memories altered.

The Bentusi hesitated. "Nor are we."

He gulped... It sounded as if the Bentusi had learned this lesson the hard way.

Ir Miilas flew silently through the endless night, guided by the automated docking program. It came in and set down in the station's bay.

The three stations entered hyperspace, and the void returned to itself, silent and still.