Dream Called Time (28 page)

Twenty

I could end my story here. All things considered, I probably should. But while no one may ever believe what I’ve written in these journals, I think the truth is worth the risk.

Time lost all meaning as we traveled through the portal, but I wasn’t scared. I had no idea what would happen to us, but Reever was with me. On some level I knew we weren’t going back to our future; I could sense the enormous shifts in the time and reality taking place just beyond the portal. Whatever lay on the other side, I wouldn’t face it alone.

We emerged not into my crystal matrix on Jxin, and not in the blackness of oblivion, but in a field of yiborra grass. As the portal vanished behind us, I looked into the docile, mildly curious eyes of a t’lerue.

“Hello, bovine,” I said, holding out my hand for it to sniff before I gave it a gentle pat. Some of my tousled hair fell over my cheek and I began to push it back, and then stared at it. It was no longer silver, but had changed back to black with a silver sheen.

“Your eyes are dark blue again,” Reever said.

“Good. I never liked silver that much.” I used them to glance at my husband. “As happy as I am to see the place, why are we on Joren?”

“I cannot say.” He scanned the horizon. “This is Marine province, but I do not see the HouseClan pavilion.”

Neither did I. “Maybe they moved it.” I turned around, and nearly fell on my face.

“What do you here, Terrans?”

The Jorenian male standing behind us was as big, strong, and handsome as the rest of his people, and he had the requisite black hair and white-within-white eyes. His skin, however, was not blue but tan, and as he made a gesture of greeting, I saw he had five fingers.

He’d also spoken to us in StanTerran.

“We’re just visiting, ClanSon,” I said carefully. “I’m Cherijo. This is my husband, Duncan.”

He didn’t react to our names. “I am Kol Kalea.” He glanced around us. “Do you seek the settlement?”

“Yes,” Reever said before I could ask what that was.

The crossbreed smiled. “I am meeting my bondmate there. Come, I will take you along the path.”

Kol led us across the pasture and up a hill. “Are you and your husband cattle buyers?”

“No,” I said. “We’re . . . travelers.”

“I did not see you when I left the settlement earlier,” he said. “You have no vehicle. How did you come to be in that field?”

“It’s a long story,” I advised him as we reached the top of the hill, and I stopped for a moment so I could absorb what I was seeing.

HouseClan Torin
had
moved their pavilion, which was now atop some cliffs overlooking the sea. It was also surrounded by thousands of smaller structures that appeared to be housing, businesses, and gathering points. All of them were definitely not of Jorenian design.

“Okay, this is new,” I murmured to Reever.

He took my hand in his. “ClanSon Kalea, could you tell us something about the settlement? Who lives here?”

“This is Torin territory, of course, but anyone may live here. This was the first open settlement on Joren, but it has proven to be such a success that all of the other HouseClans are opening their territories and developing their own merchant colonies.”

“Really.” My adopted people had always been friendly, but at the same time extremely territorial. “What made the Torin decide to build this open settlement?”

“It was part of the Expansion Treaty.” Now he looked puzzled. “Where have you been traveling?”

“Oh, here and there.” I exchanged a look with Reever. “We’ve been out of touch for a long time.”

“I see.” It was pretty obvious that he didn’t. “The terms of the treaty required at least one multispecies colony to be established on every world, so that each species might develop tolerance through free trade. It has not been without its difficulties, but the Terrans have done a great deal to help smooth the path for others.”

I wanted to laugh. “The
Terrans
have been helpful.”

He inclined his head. “Their customs of embracing diversity and expanding knowledge through exploration have been adopted by thousands of worlds. Your people are highly regarded as ambassadors of peace and understanding wherever they go. But I do not understand. How could you not know this?”

“Our journey took us away from the explored quadrants for many years,” Reever said.

“Before the treaty was struck,” I added without thinking.

“That, lady, was more than two hundred years past.” The Jorenian folded his arms. “I know Terrans do not live so long.”

I couldn’t tell him that we were immortal—assuming we still were—so I’d have to come up with a convincing lie. Fortunately my husband was much more skilled in that department.

“There was a problem with the stasis equipment on board our ship,” he told Kol. “It did not rouse us when it was programmed to.”

His dark brows rose. “Stasis travel was not developed until the year of my birth, Terran, and I have not yet celebrated thirty name days.”

“It was an experimental prototype,” I assured him. “That’s probably why it malfunctioned.”

“As you say.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but the lines around his nose and mouth eased a fraction. “I will ask one more question: Do either of you mean to do harm here?”

“I’m a physician and my husband is a linguist.” I smiled at Reever. “We’ve taken vows to do no harm.”

He nodded. “Then you are welcome.”

That night, in the quarters the Torin had given us, Reever and I sat together at a terminal scanning history files. Many of the events from our past were still recorded, but many of the details and outcomes had changed.

After humans discovered they were not alone in the universe, Terra had struggled with an ugly period of rampant xenophobia. This time, however, some wiser souls had instigated a social revolution to address the problem. Tentative contact with offworlders was made, first to prove they were not a threat to humans, and then to find out exactly what they were. As the benefits of becoming part of a much larger intergalactic community became apparent, the governments of my homeworld actively encouraged interspecies events and enterprises.

The humanoid and reptilian species had still clashed on occasion, especially over the practices of enslavement and free colonization, but many of the massacres and wars had been prevented—by, of all species, the Hsktskt and the Terrans, who had somehow become partners in diplomacy.

“I can’t believe they’re running around the quadrants settling territorial disputes and disbanding slaver depots,” I muttered. “The Hsktskt hate humanoids. Dear God, the Hsktskt used to
eat
humanoids.”

“TssVar remains Hanar,” Duncan said as he scrolled through another file. “He rose through the ranks by his work creating slaver-reformation programs and establishing reptilian-humanoid trade cooperatives. The arenas never came into being.”

I thought of all the suffering Reever had experienced as an arena slave. “Good riddance. Are Squilyp or ChoVa still around?”

“The Omorr practices as a surgeon on his homeworld, and lives with his mate and their twin sons,” Reever said. “TssVar’s eldest daughter is now named UtessVa, and recently was mated to a Hsktskt who looks remarkably like PyrsVar after he was changed.” He read a little more. “TssVar began his career in the militia as a slave liberator,” he added. “He saw to it that freed slaves were given sanctuary on Vtaga until they could be returned to their homeworlds.”

“The universe always corrects itself. He took your place.” I grinned. “Maybe that’s why you two always liked one another.” I saw a strange expression come over his face, and touched his arm. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Kao Torin lives.” He turned the monitor toward me. “So does his bondmate, a former Akkabarran physician named Jarn.”

I looked at the image of the happy couple, taken during their bonding ceremony. Kao smiled down at his Choice, a lovely female with pale skin, light brown hair, and dark eyes. She was very attractive, but she didn’t look a thing like me.

At first I wasn’t sure what to say, and then I did. “I’m glad they found each other. How about you?”

He pulled me onto his lap. “I have my woman.”

My first search had been through Terran census records, but I hadn’t found any listing for Joseph Grey Veil, his daughter Cherijo, or her husband, Duncan Reever.

I leaned back against Reever’s shoulder. “I wish I knew what happened to us.”

“You were never born,” a familiar voice said.

I stood up and turned around to see Shon Valtas standing just inside the door panel. “I secured that panel.”

“You’re still using the same codes you did before the time shift,” he chided. “We weren’t sure if you would be coming back, but when I heard a rumor about two Terrans suddenly appearing out of nowhere, I thought it might be you.”

“You know where we’ve been,” I said cautiously.

“Yes. All of us do.” He turned and opened the door panel, and several beings entered: a crossbreed ’Zangian, a Jorenian whose skin was covered in a layer of crystal, and others I’d never seen.

Shon introduced the others by name before he said, “Like you, we were unaffected by the time shift. Our memories of the past are unaltered.”

“So you remember the war between the League and the Hsktskt?”

“That, and the Core plague on K-2, the destruction of Skart, the rebellion on Akkabarr, and the attack on Trellus,” Jadaira Rask said. “Although we soon found out that none of them occurred in this new universe.”

“Maggie once told me that we were created to exist outside the timeline.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “Does anyone know about us and what we are?”

“Happily, no,” Renor, the crystalline crossbreed, said. “Nor have we revealed ourselves to anyone.”

“After witnessing the changes in reality, we thought it best to remain silent and observe,” the Tingalean added in its soft, hissing voice. “You and your bondmate were successful, Healer Grey Veil. The Jxin did not separate their species or attempt to ascend.”

I looked at Shon. “So the black crystal was never created.”

“No. The Jxin are gone now, but before their species died out, they became space explorers, and colonized over seven hundred worlds. They caused life on those worlds to evolve, and spread to others, and eventually founded every sentient species known to us.”

Renor came forward and held out an etched crystal disc. “This was discovered in the ruins on Jxinok centuries ago, and since has been preserved in a museum of curiosities on my sire’s homeworld. When I saw the mark on it, I knew it was for you, and so I . . . borrowed it.”

The mark on the crystal was simple: three parallel lines, one golden, one black, and one silver. I carefully inserted the disc into the computer and opened it.

The image of a Jxin male who looked a little like my creator appeared on the screen. He began speaking in an ancient dialect.

“We send this prayer of gratitude to the healer of all things,” Reever translated out loud. “The one who brought great wisdom to our people thousands of years ago. We are the last generation of the Jxin, and we would have you know that we have kept the promise made to you. We hope that you have made safe passage, and that you will always watch over our children among the stars.”

The man who might have been Joseph bowed, smiled, and then disappeared from the screen.

I didn’t know quite what to make of it. It had taken hundreds of thousands of years for the Jxin to reach the end of their species’ existence. To think that they had passed along our warning for so many generations . . . “I didn’t think they’d give up ascension to save the future.”

“You gave up your future to save the Jxin,” Jadaira said. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.”

Maybe it would be, in a couple thousand years, when I got over the loss of my child. Because Reever and I had not been born in this timeline, neither had Marel. We couldn’t risk trying to have another child, either, not with the genetic curses we carried.

But there were plenty of orphans in the universe who needed parents, for when we were ready to start a family again. I looked at Shon. “We should talk about where we go from here.”

There wasn’t a lot of debate during the discussion that followed. Because time no longer affected us, and eternal life would still attract mortals who wanted it for themselves, we would have to be careful not to draw too much attention to ourselves. That meant living simply and blending in with surrounding populations. We could all simulate aging, but we couldn’t settle in one place for longer than a few decades.

“We should establish our own colony,” Renor Kalea suggested. “A place where we can gather or take sanctuary when necessary. Perhaps on a world that would be inhospitable or unattractive to mortals.”

“I suggest oKia,” Shon said.

“Last time I checked, oKia had a native population of a couple million,” I reminded him.

“You have been gone for several million years,” he countered. “Protocrystal drove my people from our world at the turn of the last century. They convinced the Skartesh to relocate with them to one of Kevarzangia Two’s moons. To date, oKia, Skart, and the entire solar system remain uninhabited.”

“The protocrystal cannot harm us,” Reever said thoughtfully, “and since her last transformation, Cherijo has the ability to communicate with and control it.”

I never wanted to see another form of crystal for as long as I lived, much less reside among evolving, intelligent pools of it. Then something occurred to me. “Was the protocrystal affected by the time shift? Or is it still eating oKia?”

“It was somewhat altered. Now it merely tries to absorb other intelligent life into its matrix,” Shon said. “Since the Great Exodus, that part of space has been quarantined by the Allied Faction. All trade routes have been abandoned, and even the worst of slavers and mercenaries avoid it.”

The Allied Faction.
I was never going to get used to hearing that. “Then if it’s still willing to listen to me, I think I can work out some living arrangements.”

“We will still need a mission,” Jadaira said. “Immortality without purpose would be torture, I think. I would rather fly my strafer into the nearest star than spend eternity adrift among the living.”