“A transgression for which I apologize. However, it was imperative that I prevent the other Shedai from ever returning to the wellspring of our power—and that I deny you and your rivals access to its mysteries until I was ready to bequeath them on my own terms.”
Bridy and Quinn traded anxious glances, then she looked back at the imposing titan. “Is that why you lured us here?”
“I summoned you so that you might finish what I have begun. Your civilization stands upon the threshold of greatness, but there are those among the Serrataalwho would crush your Federation aborning. For the sake of the galaxy, I believe they must not succeed.”
Quinn’s brow wrinkled with disbelief. “You want us to start a war with the Shedai? Are you nuts? Or do you just think weare?”
“War between your kind and the Shedai loyal to the Maker is inevitable, little sparks. My aim is to provide you with the arms and knowledge your people will need to survive.”
Distrust resonated in Bridy’s voice as she asked, “Why would you help us?”
“This is not the first time I have sought to rid the galaxy of my kindred. Aeons ago, I allied myself with a great race of Telinaruulknown as the Tkon. They wielded technologies the likes of which your civilization has not yet imagined. I helped them craft a weapon that would let them contain and eradicate the Shedai threat. Soon afterward, the Maker and her faithful ambushed the capital system of the Tkon, detonated its primary star, and ended that empire in a nightmare of chaos and darkness. I will not see that fate befall your Federation. Never again will I let such an atrocity come to pass as a consequence of my inaction.”
High above Bridy and Quinn’s heads, a ghostly image appeared. It was a twelve-sided polyhedron rotating slowly. Orbiting it were long, complex strings of data—alien symbols, Arabic numerals, equations, fragments of star charts—all of it distorted, spectral, and ephemeral. Quinn squinted and saw that each face of the polyhedron was etched with a unique alien symbol. He looked away from the spectacle and gazed in awe at the Apostate. “What is this?”
“A guide. Instructions for turning the weapon of the Tkon against the Shedai. With it they can be contained and, when the time is right, destroyed.”
Bridy’s voice trembled with excitement. “What is the weapon of the Tkon?”
“An array containing hundreds of these objects. Linked in the correct sequence and used properly, each can imprison up to a dozen Shedai.”
“All right,” Bridy said. “Where do we find it?”
“That I do not know. The Tkon constructed it in secret.”
Quinn waved one hand in a pantomime of dismissal. “Hang on—stop. If the Tkon had this superweapon, how’d the Maker get the drop on ’em?”
“I helped the Tkon build it, but I never told them how to activate it.”
“Why the hell not?”
“They refused to pledge mercy for myself and my brethren. At that time, I still harbored hope that I and the members of my loyal host might be spared. I have since abandoned such folly.”
Quinn pointed at the holographic-style projection above his head. “So, this is the weapon’s ‘on’ switch? And you’re giving it to us?” He permitted himself a grim chortle. “We’re flattered and all, but if you don’t mind my asking, why don’t you go fight your own war and leave us out of it?”
“Because my strength is fading, little spark. Creating this pocket universe for the completion of my task has drained all but the last of my power. I did not procure this knowledge from memory. Using the machine you see here, I retrieved it from the myriad dimensions in which I had concealed its parts. Only now, after you have found me, have I assembled them in one place. Once I am gone, it will not persist for long—a dozen of your hours, at most—so you must document it swiftly.”
The Apostate’s radiance dimmed, and his stature diminished. He turned his back on Quinn and Bridy and began to walk away toward a deep, lightless cavern. Bridy lurched after him and lost her balance. As Quinn caught her, she called out to the departing Shedai, “Wait! What do you mean, once you’re gone?”
When their host turned back to face them, he had shrunk to a height of only two meters, and his voice, though still a mellifluous baritone, had no greater presence than that of any mortal being.
“My end is upon me, little spark. Death beckons.”
A cold wind howled through the ice-walled caverns. The frigid gale washed over the Apostate. His body turned gray and scattered like ashes. Beneath the funereal wails of the wind, Quinn heard the Apostate’s voice whisper in his ear, “I give you the flame. Use it well.”
Grim silence fell upon Quinn and Bridy. They looked at each other, and then they turned in unison to see the Apostate’s secret lingering in the air above and behind them. Beyond it, the mysterious machine continued to turn, its fathomless workings uniting and projecting the pieces of the Apostate’s dark secret.
Bridy grabbed Quinn’s shoulder. “We have to record this! Right now!”
“With what? A tattoo on my ass?”
“Go back to the ship and get the other tricorder. And bring back the spare medkit while you’re at it.”
“Screw that, we’re both going back to the ship. I ain’t leavin’ you here.”
She seized his jacket by its collar. “Quinn, listen to me! We’ve just made one of the biggest discoveries in Operation Vanguard—maybe in the history of the Federation! I needto stay here and study it any way I can. You can make it to the ship and back in less time than it would take you to carry me up that slope—and you knowit. So stop arguing with me and go,already!”
He frowned to mask his frustration. “Dammit, I hate when you’re right.” He looked around. “It’s freezin’ in this hole. You gonna be okay till I get back?”
“I have rocks, I have a phaser. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He helped her over to the machine so that she would have something to lean against, and then he kissed her. “If all goes well, I’ll be back in six hours. Don’t you go wanderin’ off on me.”
Bridy pressed her gloved palm to his face and flashed him a smile to die for. “I’ll be right here. Now go. Time’s wasting.”
Quinn kissed her again, and then he let her go and started running.
17
Quinn felt like a meat popsicle as he staggered inside the Dulcinea. Two steps off the ramp, he dropped to his knees and slumped against the bulkhead as the hatchway lifted shut behind him. He could hardly feel his feet, and his fingers were almost completely numb. All his layers of cold-weather gear had been barely enough to protect him from the brutal cold once night had fallen.
Bridy was right,he admitted to himself. If I’d had to bring her with me, we might not have made it. The other saving grace for his return journey had been the clear path they had left in the snow as they crossed the frozen lake. Without the tricorder to lead him back to the ship, his only guide had been their footprints.
Between pained breaths he told himself to get up, but his body felt as if it had been cast from lead. Move, you lazy sack of crap,he admonished himself. Bridy needs you. Get your ass in gear!He reached up and found a handhold. By slow increments he hoisted himself back to his feet, and then he hugged the wall as he made his way forward to the dispensary locker. He shrugged off his backpack, opened it, and pulled out the shelter kit to make room for more urgently needed supplies: the ship’s second medkit, a bundle of compact field rations, a large canister of vitamin-enhanced water, and two fistfuls of heat sticks.
A few of those in our pockets’ll keep us from freezin’ to death on the hike back,he reasoned. He zipped the pack half-shut, hurried forward, and grabbed Bridy’s backup tricorder from the equipment locker near the cockpit. So far, so good. He checked the ship’s chrono. Just under three hours. Should be faster goin’ back.As he tried to stuff the tricorder inside his pack, he realized his hands were shaking. And not just a bit—a lot. Hang on,he cautioned himself. If you drop dead rushin’ back to her, you ain’t gonna be doin’ anybody any favors.