Empress of Eternity (3 page)

17 Eightmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

Late into the fall evening Maertyn pored over the results of his latest observations and calculations in his “temporary” laboratory.

He’d hoped to have been able to report some significant progress to the Ministry of Science when he returned to Caelaarn, but all the measurements he’d taken and all the calculations he’d made had not proven as helpful as he would have hoped.

He studied the screen before him, and the energy/position/gradients displayed there. They confirmed that, in a real way, the canal and its walls were not built of any discrete material. From what he’d been able to determine, the entire canal was a unit, created/fused/bonded on a subatomic level.

He paused. That wasn’t necessarily so. Certainly, that finding was true for any part of the canal he had been able to study. But was it the same throughout—or did a thick layer of that adamantine material cover what lay within just to a depth that precluded any energy from reaching through such an outer layer?

Yet…from his instruments, the canal walls were a uniform width everywhere, thirty point seven one Caelaarnan yards. And there were only two structures protruding from it along its entire length, both identical in exterior shape—one at the eastern end and the other, where he was, at the western terminus. But the eastern structure remained sealed, with no evidence that it had ever been entered. For the canal and the structures to have endured at least half a million years, and possibly many times that, it would seem that it should be composed of the same material throughout. If that material were neutronium or of a similar nature, it would mass more than the entire Earth, and major gravitational irregularities would be more than obvious. In fact, the earth probably wouldn’t exist except as debris. But what if the canal’s gravitational effects happened to be shielded?

Maertyn knew of no way that was possible. He also knew of no way that the canal could exist. Which impossible possibility was more likely?

He smiled. Reality trumped theoretical science on any day of any year. Maarlyna’s presence was more than proof of that.

The other problem centered on the doors and ducts. No form of scanning or focused energy that he had been able to deploy revealed their presence or triggered their opening. Only a living human touch did that. He’d spent two full days running his hands over every part of every surface in the structure, both inside and outside, and while he’d discovered what appeared to be two lower-level storage closets or rooms that had not been discovered by previous researchers, as well as five unused ducts/conduits, no other doors, even in the “new” storage areas, responded to his fingers.

Then he’d tried the same method on the top of the canal walls, first between the western end of the structure and the ocean wall, then along the narrow space between the structure walls and the chest-high retaining walls, and finally for a good hundred yards to the east. He’d discovered nothing new. There well might be other entrances to spaces within the canal walls somewhere along its two-thousand-kay length, and, in fact, he had no doubts that such must exist, but who had the time or the manpower to feel every span of a structure that stood a hundred yards above the water and spanned a continent?

He took a deep breath before, useless as he suspected it to be, he slowly considered, yet once more, the numbers, facts, figures, and equations on the pale green screen.

He wasn’t even aware that he was no longer alone until a soft voice intruded.

“Maertyn? Will you be coming to bed soon? You’ve worked so late so many nights, and you do have a long journey ahead of you before long.” Maarlyna stood in the archway that separated the largest main-floor chamber from the slightly smaller room that served as his workroom and laboratory.

“I’m sorry.” He turned the swivel chair to face her, but did not stand. “I was just trying to see if I could make any sense out of the latest observations. I’d really like to be able to report something new. But the more measurements and observations I take, the more it’s clear that the midcontinent canal is perfectly uniform.”

“Has anyone else taken that many measurements and observations?” Her smile was warm and indulgent, yet not critical.

“Not in our history. Perhaps the second dawn cultures did. There aren’t any records. In fact, there’s not much of anything left, except some large holes filled with ash, sand, and the detritus of millennia that is still faintly radioactive.”

“There are fossilized remnants of the ancients, aren’t there? Is the canal that old? Or is it older yet?”

He smiled. “I’d judge so, but there’s no way to tell with great accuracy. I don’t know of any way to date the stone of the canal, and the stone and bedrock on and in which it rests doesn’t seem to follow crustal movements, or not in any way that we would think as probable. The rock and soil layers farther away from the canal itself suggest far more than a million years.”

“Isn’t that new information? For the Ministry?”

“New? I don’t know. It tends to confirm past incomplete data.” His smile was crooked. “The Ministry is looking for somewhat more than that.”

“You’ll find it. I know you will.”

Maertyn was touched by her faith, uncertain as he was about whether he could live up to it. “That’s what I’m working toward.” If he could only figure out how to discover a means by which he could discern more about the canal. The biologic sciences of the Unity weren’t suited to deal with the subatomic level physics, and the records of older civilizations were too fragmentary…and enigmatic.

She smiled. “I won’t keep you. I hope you won’t be too long.”

With her smile, and the clinging gown she wore, Maertyn knew he wouldn’t be looking at his screens for much longer. “I need to save this format of the data to the backup system. Then I’ll join you.”

Maarlyna turned.

Maertyn watched her move through the archway and out of sight, taking in the gentle sway of her hips, neither constrained nor exaggerated, but all of a piece with the woman that she was, then swung back to face the paired pale green screens. He had the unshakable feeling that the data revealed something…but he couldn’t put a finger—or his thoughts—on exactly what that might be.

He shook his head and initiated the backup sequence. He did wish that he had a cable interface to his own system in Caelaarn, or even a private comsat link, but the Ministry saw no reason to lay cable to the end of the canal, and he and his work didn’t have priority enough for a comsat link. Nor did he have the boost-antenna necessary, either.

Once he finished, he stood and stretched, then flicked off the lamps powered by the turbine-powered unitary system that the Ministry had grudgingly installed for him, since the area was too chill for an efficient biosystem. He frowned, because every time he turned the lamps on or off, the same recurring thought came to mind. What powered the “doors” of the old building, and what power allowed the “windows” to pass light?

Even his most precise equipment failed to detect any energy flows. That confirmed, unsurprisingly, that the material comprising the canal and the building in which he was living and working was totally opaque to all energy flows. Yet the doors and windows had worked for the hundreds of years that the Caelaarnans had observed them, and doubtless for thousands and thousands of years before that.

He left the workroom and crossed the main room, then paused at the foot of the ramp that led up to the overly expansive second-level room that served as their combined bedchamber and private sitting room. Had he heard the wind howling, the precursor of an early storm or blizzard? His lips curled in amusement. How would he know? The oblong sections of the walls that approximated windows only transmitted light, not images or sounds—unless they were actually set in the open position, a position that they’d only hold for a third of an hour before automatically sealing. The walls blocked the sound of even the loudest of storms, and no outside vibration was ever transmitted to the interior of the station.

With a shake of his head, he started up the ramp to rejoin Maarlyna. When tomorrow came, and the days to follow in Caelaarn, he would deal with what they brought. What other choice did he have?

8 Quad 2471 R.E.

Eltyn’s virties focused on the external readings on the sandstorm that raged outside, another of the seemingly unending silicon tempests that continually assailed the station. Inside the ancient dwelling, he felt nothing, heard nothing. His bio-eyes took in the information on the local net not linked to RucheCom. The data readings on the small console showed no change in the surface temperature of the outer wall of the station or of the midcontinent canal walls at one-kay intervals over the fifteen kays to the east.

Interrogative storm dust/sand density?
came the question from the geosat continent operations monitor.

Sampling sensors shuttered. Last data matched Category 8,
Eltyn pulsed back to the GCMC. There was no point in leaving the samplers exposed, not with the wind velocity and sand/dust concentration bombarding the station and the southern walls of the MCC. Unlike the stone of the station, the unsealed sampling sensors would have been damaged by the sand granules propelled at storm velocities. The other—sealed—sensors continued to report temperature and pressure.

Interrogative rationale for shuttering?

Ruche MetCentre wanted a reason? They had the data.

Eltyn pulsed back,
Air mass velocity exceeds 400 kays. Estimated deposit 5k tonnes/hour/K
²
.
Temperature stable at 64° S.
Just a “mere” twenty-seven degrees above blood temperature, with enough fine sand to bury the southern side of the station halfway up the wall in a few hours. Farther than that if the storm remained in the area more than the projected six hours.

The ancient building had conduits that accommodated cables and plumbing. There might be hidden passages. Neither he nor Faelyna had found any, but they had discovered and charted the ducts in the walls and floors that opened if human touch pressed against them, provided the outer wall wasn’t buried in sand or snow. The stone of those conduits flowed around cables and pipes to provide a seal against the weather…or any other intrusion. The western MCC MetStation hadn’t seen snow in centuries. There hadn’t been significant precipitation in the area for decades, despite the Ruche’s priority efforts on climate mods. As for the structure presumed to be the eastern station, no one had ever been able to enter it.

Faelyna glanced toward him.
Idiots.
That was a private pulse, on the direct freq that Eltyn continually checked to assure it remained shielded from RucheCom monitoring. That was vital, given their project.

Concur
³
.

For a moment, neither looked at the other or pulsed. Then Faelyna asked,
Progress on approach(8)?

Testing of new installation to be complete by 1330 tomorrow.

?????

Eltyn had kept the details to himself, very unRuchelike, even if no one from RucheCom was able to monitor his work that closely. Still…Faelyna might save him trouble by going over matters now that the system was in place.
SysConfig…here.

[Appreciation/understanding].

Eltyn tried to ignore the feathery touch of her inspection by rechecking the latest data on the sandstorm. Even her comm touch was…He shook his head. That would have to wait. They couldn’t afford anything that would jeopardize the project. They were TechOversight professionals, working for the good of the Ruche.

After several moments, Faelyna pulsed,
Inquiry?

Acceptable.

DNA substrate positioning suggests fractionally post-pressure. Sensitive response system would register DNA prior to or simultaneous with contact pressure.

Eltyn had considered that, but he hadn’t been certain of what interval might be best. The idea was to create an artificial method for opening the doors and ducts of the station. If he could accomplish that, it was logical that the results would provide guidance toward a more comprehensive system for uncovering other means of access to what lay beneath the eternal blue-gray stone.
Suggested mod?

A flow/power/response schematic appeared before his virties.

Prelim
, offered Faelyna.

Eltyn considered it, then traced out the key elements, admiring its elegance as he did.
200 nanosecs closer? Measured response time on current doors…

The hint of a frown hung behind the non-pulse before Faelyna replied,
Point taken. 500 might be better.

Mod will require rework of decision cortex.

[Apology].

Not required. Good observation.
Still, accurate as her observation was, that meant another hour or so rebalancing the flows.

As he set to work, he found himself humming under his breath. Perhaps he should have adopted sliding parameters based on the DNA substrate positioning time…but then…how much would the pressure change, and would the canal’s systems detect that differential?

Possible differential required for each activation?
Faelyna’s suggestion was pulsed oh-so-gently.
Precise human pressure gesture not replicatable on nanoscale, even microscale.

He couldn’t help but nod. She was absolutely correct. Even in the best of circumstances, even with the best of Ruche training and education, the precision of human entities lagged far behind that of their tools and systems.

He hummed happily as he continued to improve the system. He did glance at Faelyna more than once.