Branegate Read online

  They walked around the periphery of the cubicles. “I have a small office down here. Your cubicle is right next door so I can pick your brain in person whenever I feel like it.” In the far corner of the room was a small, glassed-in office. The cubicle next to it was twice normal size, and unlike the others had a door. Inside were blank walls, a curving table, book cases on either side of the door and not one, but two computer consoles. “The one is a PC, the other goes direct to the IC 1200,” explained Wallace.

  “We’ll need another chair,” said Petyr suddenly.

  “Excuse me?” Wallace looked at him sharply.

  “Another chair. I’ll be working here with Trae.”

  “Our security here is more than adequate. I don’t see why—”

  “Petyr will be working with me on occasion,” said Trae. “It’s a requirement, not a request.”

  Wallace was momentarily stunned. “Well—of course—yes—I’ll see to it. I just thought—”

  “Petyr has his own projects, but is also my librarian for all the data Father has sent with me. It’ll speed up our work.”

  “Yes—I see.” Wallace was still confused, having thought Petyr was nothing more than a bodyguard. If only you knew, Trae thought evilly.

  They went into Wallace’s office and the man showed them the list of tasks he’d received. Trae scanned it quickly, tapped the page with a finger and said, “Number three is most important, and the rest will follow naturally. We know the physics of the vacuum state and how to access it. The problem is how to provide power systems, thrusters and field generators that will fit into a ship no larger than a current interstellar transport.”

  Wallace chuckled. “Any suggestions?” he asked with humorous intent.

  “You already peeked at it. Layered superconductors at the nano-level, conductor pairs stacked anti-parallel to eliminate magnetic field effects. Infinite current in a nano-sized conductor. That’s the beginning.”

  “You’re proposing an entirely new technology. It’ll take years at best.”

  “I’ll show you how to do it sooner,” said Trae.

  “And the entire project has to be up to the testing stage within a few years,” said Petyr.

  Wallace practically snarled at him. “Impossible,” he said.

  But Trae knew he was wrong.

  CHAPTER 15

  Young Zylak has reached Elderon. It’s obvious his enhancements are complete, or close to it. He’s amazing everyone.

  Hmm. Does anyone know what he’s working on?

  No. He’s working with the research staff, and we don’t have any people in there. They’re keeping things hush, hush, even to board members. All we’ve been told is he’s a bright young kid they discovered somewhere. What should we do now?

  Azar Khalil sat in lotus position, a towel draped over his knees. Steam swirled around him, and his muscled body glistened with sweat. To the others who sat near him in the clouds of fragrant vapors he seemed to be in meditation, breathing deep and slowly, eyes closed.

  Do nothing for the moment. The strikes should be coordinated and as simultaneous as possible. We’re not ready here yet, but the team is assembled. I need to win a few more friends before we move.

  What about the father and mother?

  It’s out of our hands. They went through the portal months ago. The deed is already done; it doesn’t concern us. When I want the boy dead I’ll tell you, and I’ll expect it to be accomplished on the same day.

  I have three good men here who can do it without being traced. Zylak and his bodyguard will cease existence.

  Not the boy’s scans. I’ll want to know everything in him. We still have no idea what his father is up to, only that’s he’s certain to oppose us.

  Perhaps we’ll hear something new from home soon.

  Azar hummed to himself, turned his palms upwards, knowing he was being watched. We’ll not wait for that. Be ready for my order; it could be soon. He bowed his head, exhaled loudly, and opened his eyes.

  “Back again,” said a fat man sitting near him. “When I try that I just go to sleep and fall over.”

  Laughter.

  “It only requires practice, my friend,” said Azar, and stretched his arms languidly above his head. “Ten minutes of that is like three hours of deep sleep for me. Thirty minutes, no more. The rest of my time is for work.”

  “So that’s how you do it. I’d just use the time for eating. I must say I admire your discipline, Azar. I’ve never seen a man expand his holdings as fast as you have.”

  “Ah, then we’re all in good company. The most successful of us are in this room, and I like to feel I can call you my friends as well as colleagues.”

  “Indeed you can, Azar,” said another man sweating in steamy gloom.

  “Good. As friends I also hold you in my confidence. I feel I can talk to you about private matters, share my secrets, as you will. We’re together in so many ways, not just in business, but in political matters.”

  The fat man edged closer to him. Faint shadows in clouds of steam, two men stood up on the other side of the brightly tiled room and came over to sit opposite him on a small, stone bench. “You said there was something serious for us to discuss, and here we are. What is it, Azar?” asked one of them.

  Azar paused for dramatic effect, smiled nervously, shyly. “I hesitate. The subject itself could be dangerous to talk about. I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t trust all of you with my most intimate thoughts.”

  “What you say will not leave this room,” said the fat man, and the others nodded in agreement.

  “Very well, but it involves our Emperor in a difficult time. I don’t want to make any hasty judgements about what’s happening all around us.”

  “You’re being polite,” said the fat man. “He loses his police chief, and declares martial law. The man’s in a panic; he sees assassins everywhere. He overreacts to everything. The offworlders see it as signs of instability. It’s hard enough for me to get their business without Osman going on another one of his witch hunts.”

  “Quraiwan was a monster. He kept this city in a state of fear for years, and Osman never once tugged on his leash. I will personally not miss him,” said another man.

  “But now we have martial law, and more police on the streets,” said Azar. “People are openly complaining. I’ve never seen such demonstrations before now. The people have lost all trust in their government.”

  “Have you had a chance to talk with Osman since Quraiwan was murdered?” asked the fat man.

  “I’ve tried to, but he won’t see me,” lied Azar. “This is worrisome. I fear he’s lost trust in those of us who’ve supported his policies over the years. And he’s certainly lost touch with his people.”

  “He fears a coup, perhaps,” said one of the men sitting opposite him.

  There was a long silence in the room, and then the same man spoke again.

  “Does he have reason to fear a coup, Azar?”

  “Ah,” said the fat man.

  Azar leaned forward, and gave each man a long and sincere stare. “These are dangerous and unstable times, gentlemen. If something does happen, we want to be in a position to control it, for if the wrong people come to power we can lose everything we’ve worked for. I don’t intend to let that happen. Religious zealots, or whoever the terrorists are, can not rule this planet, my friends, nor will a man who has lost his rationality and isolates himself in terror.”

  “Who, then?” asked the fat man.

  “That’s what we need to discuss,” said Azar.

  The fat man actually smiled at him. The others did not.

  CHAPTER 16

  Transition went smoothly, a spectacular light show that lasted several minutes as they passed through the boundary between two universes. Leonid and Tatjana had another drink as they watched it all on the view-screen, and held hands. Their mood was somber, wistful, leaving something behind but returning to something familiar.

  Or so they thought.

  Th
e core of the home galaxy was crowded with great clouds of molecular hydrogen and new stars were still being born there at a prodigious rate. Illuminated by new stars the clouds seemed to boil, spewing forth tendril signatures of baby suns.

  Picket ships were waiting for them, black insect shapes silhouetted against the glowing clouds. They made rendezvous with the great vessel that traveled between universes like a rogue planet. Passengers and their luggage were transferred to the pickets before the ship moved on towards Port Angel. There, it would be refitted in orbit before the return trip to the universe of the colonies. The pickets took all passengers to Cay Benz for processing and assignment to appropriate shuttles. Several worlds were still occupied near the core. One of these worlds was Kratola, the oldest stronghold of The Immortals, and its political capital.

  For Leonid and Tatjana Zylak, it was home.

  They packed their luggage, boarded a picket, and settled in for a one day sprint to immigration Cay. They amused themselves by reading, and watching a holo-play, and when the arrival at Cay Benz was announced they gathered their carry-on things and prepared to disembark with the others.

  A cabin attendant asked them to sit down again, saying they were being met by a special delegation after the rest of the passengers had disembarked. Both assumed it was a delegation sent by Tatjana’s family, for this had happened on occasion in the past. They waited, unconcerned. The rest of the passengers walked the connecting tunnel into the great orbital Cay, an artificial world the size of a large moon. Hollow inside, it was a city of twelve layers with a resident population of twenty million souls.

  They waited in a departure lounge, the cabin attendant watched them from the exit, finally made a phone call. “They’ll be here for you in a moment,” she said nicely, and left.

  Boots pounded the floor of the tunnel. Six men entered, military men with helmets and black armor. Five carried rifles, the sixth had a sidearm and saluted them.

  “Are you Leonid and Tatjana Zylak?”

  “We are,” said Leonid.

  “Your papers, please.”

  Leonid handed them over, wondering who he was talking to. He’d never seen men in such uniforms before. “Are you with immigration?” he asked. “As you can see, we’re citizens of Kratola.”

  “Where are you coming from?” asked the man examining their papers. He seemed to be an officer.

  Leonid told him, “We’ve been on a long mission for our government. It’s all described in our documents.”

  The man smirked at them, closed the folder containing their papers and made no move to hand them back.

  “My papers, please,” said Leonid, and held out his hand.

  “Your papers are invalid. You’ll have to be detained. Come with us, please.”

  The soldiers with him stepped forward, rifles at port arms.

  Tatjana gasped. “I don’t understand,” said Leonid. “We’re representatives of the state.”

  “It will be explained to you, sir. Please.” The officer gestured for them to follow him. His soldiers moved in close.

  They walked the tunnel, their shoulders touching hard armor on either side. The reception lounge they came out into was empty. Two electric-powered carts awaited them. They got into one with the officer and a soldier. The others followed, and they went swiftly down a passage that had been cordoned off on both sides. People gawked at them from behind barriers as they passed by. A soldier was by each barrier, rifle slung. Leonid had only seen military in shuttleports on Gan, a product of a dictatorship. What is going on here?

  They were taken directly to Immigration Control. The officer took them inside and gave their papers to a man in civilian clothes with a colorful sunburst pin on his lapel, a sun rising above a horizon.

  They sat in chairs and waited while the man chatted with the officer and casually went through their papers. Leonid could hear nothing, felt nothing. There was no cerebral connection for him to these people. He wondered if they were even his own kind. He looked at Tatjana, but she was too afraid to even speak. Don’t worry, darling. He took her hand, and held it.

  The officer finally stepped away from the civilian and beckoned them to come forward. They stood before a desk, and the civilian smiled up at them. “You’ve been away for a long time, I see,” he said.

  “The better part of two lifetimes,” said Leonid. “We’re portal emissaries for the state, assigned to establish missions on the other side. We’ve worked on several worlds there.”

  “Your work is known, Mister Zylak. I’m sure The Church is grateful for what you’ve done. You’ve also established quite an empire for yourself.”

  “We worked for the state, the Council of Blue and Green. Both parties sent us. The Church followed later; we’re not affiliated with it, though we have many friends who are. They’ve been the caretakers of our only son.”

  The man looked at their papers again. “It says nothing here about a child.”

  “He was born on Gan, on the other side. He was murdered when he was small by an Emperor who opposed our work.” Leonid took a short breath to continue his story, but was stopped by a sudden, powerful thought.

  Say no more! Let them think he’s dead!

  He gasped, and breathed again. “Sorry, it’s difficult for me to think about it.”

  “It would help if you could tell me the child was baptized in The Church.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? We’re returning emissaries for our government. Why are we even being questioned here?” asked Leonid.

  “You said yourself that you’re not members of The Church.”

  “That’s irrelevant. We have total separation between Church and State.”

  “That is no longer true.”

  “What?”

  The man sighed, and made a show of being patient. “I realize you’ve been gone a very long time and that communication between universes is slow. The fact remains the government that sent you on your mission no longer exists. It has not existed for the past twenty years, so you can see why your papers are invalid. By law, I could put you right back on the ship for return through the portal.”

  Tatjana’s voice quavered as she struggled to control herself. “Kratola is our family home. Our families are still there,” she hissed. “What kind of government do you have that will refuse family members to visit each other?”

  “Now, now,” said the man quickly. “I didn’t say I was going to send you back, but that law would allow it if I chose to. Family is precious to The Church, and I’m of The Faithful.” He pointed to the pin on his lapel. “But the government you represent became corrupt in its last days. Its extreme liberalism allowed policies despised by both The Church and general populace. The separation of Church and State you talk about was doomed to failure, leading only to anarchy. A healthy populace must be led spiritually as well as politically. A Grand Bishop and Council of Bishops have now accomplished that. They create and approve laws, working with a Congress of The People which is freely elected.”

  The Bishops rule. Democracy is gone. This is against everything I worked for on the other side.

  Leonid blinked. “So what must we do now? We still want to go home.”

  The man smiled. “I can give you a transit visa to Kratola, but your stay will be limited to one year at most. You must present yourself to Immigration officials on planet. Your papers will be useful only for information purposes to them. I cannot predict how you’ll be received.”

  “We’ll take that chance,” said Leonid. “We want to see our families again.”

  “Please sit,” said the man. “It’ll take a few minutes to prepare your visas and arrange spaces on the shuttle. It departs in three hours.”

  The man went away. They sat again, and waited. And waited. Nearly an hour had passed when the man came back with their shuttle tickets and visas in glossy, blue folders. He handed them over and pointed to the officer still standing at attention near them.

  “This man will accompany you to the de
parture lounge. I’ve already arranged transport of your luggage. Have a nice trip, and I hope, once you’ve been here a while, you’ll realize that our society is much better for the changes that have occurred since you were last here. Perhaps you’ll choose to be one of The Faithful again.”

  I doubt it. “Thank you,” said Leonid. “You’ve been quite understanding.” He took Tatjana by the hand, and followed the officer out the door. A few steps and they were in terminal traffic again, and nobody seemed to notice they were following an armored military man with a sidearm. Guards were everywhere, at every departure lounge, even in front of the restrooms. Are they keeping people out, or in? wondered Leonid.

  They reached their departure lounge. The officer sat down near them, but over the next hour refused their attempts at making polite conversation. After a while Leonid realized the man was trying to remain invisible, showing no connection to them.

  He was still sitting there when their shuttle was called, did not move his head when they stood in line and were processed through to the departure tunnel. A hostess greeted them, and they were seated. There was the usual demonstration of the sedative masks for use during the two-spacetime jumps ahead. Takeoff was on time, a high angle burn for two minutes at two gee, then steady acceleration at one gee for several moments before reaching the first jump point.

  They slept, and awoke for another seven hours of powered flight, then slept again. When they awoke the second time Kratola was a green disk the size of a sovereign coin held at arm’s length on their view-screen. The next morning they touched down after a spiral, gliding descent through the atmosphere of the planet. Once again an attendant asked them to remain seated until the rest of the passengers had exited the craft. Again they walked the tunnel to the reception lounge alone.

  An officer and four soldiers, all clad in black armor, met them at the door, and they were arrested on the spot for treason against The Church. They made no protest, did not respond in any way, were marched out a side entrance to a police van parked on the tarmac and put in the back like two common criminals.