The Arc of the Universe: Book Three: The Ascent

The Arc of the Universe

Book Three

By Mark Whiteway

Science Fiction

Copyright © Mark Whiteway

All Rights Reserved.

By the same author

Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms

Lodestone Book Two: The World of Ice and Stars

Lodestone Book Three: The Crucible of Dawn

Lodestone Book Four: Seeds Across the Sky

Lodestone Book Five: The Conquered Shore

Lodestone Book Six: Eternity’s Shadow

The Arc of the Universe: Book One

The Arc of the Universe: Book Two

www.markwhiteway.weebly.com

Table of Contents

Part One: The Ascent

Part Two: The Enclave

Part Three: The Fleet

Part Four: The Damise

Part Five: The Trap

Part Six: The Trial

Part One: The Ascent

Like a listing ship, holed and rudderless, Regan Quinn stumbled through the open door of the derelict Agantzane dwelling and onto the streets of the empty city. Behind him lay the body of a bioengineered creature with his son’s face, whose life he had just taken.

Only Zothan’s intervening and then revealing the deception had stopped Quinn from ending his own life. The boy, Conor, whose behaviour had grown increasingly bizarre since their arrival on Pann, was a re-animate—a copy controlled by an elite group of alien creatures that governed the Consensus. This vast interstellar alliance followed the traditions, laws, and ethics of the long perished Agantzane race. Now, these self-styled Agantzane had allied themselves with an ancient and powerful race, the Damise. With their help, the modern Agantzane were determined to bring about the end of humanity. Quinn’s suicide would have been just the start.

Cracked spires, columns, and porticos all spoke of a once-proud race humbled by a virus barely large enough to be seen under a microscope. The old Agantzane had ceased to exist some three thousand years ago, but their influence and their concept of perfect justice under the principle of one plus one equals two reached out across time.

Applying this arcane law, the modern Agantzane had destroyed nearly twelve thousand human colonists and then inflicted Quinn with the touch of death, challenging him to exact retribution against various Consensus races. Quinn’s refusal to comply had led to the annihilation of one of the Founder Races, the Japhet, and to his exile on Nemazi before Ximun’s Mercy Faction rescued him.

Yet Ximun had been a member of the Agantzane elite all along, and those he had betrayed were no doubt either dead or had been absorbed by the Damise’s all-pervasive Artificial Intelligence.

Quinn trailed after Zothan, his mind still numb from the weight of revelations. Zothan’s axe-shaped head moved from side to side, his yellow eyes sweeping the way ahead.

Nemazi were feared throughout the Consensus for their Shade abilities, which allowed them to phase through solid objects and transfer over long distances, but Pann’s lower levels were flooded with exotic matter that made transference highly dangerous.

The situation was similar on Zothan’s home world, where Quinn had become stranded in a time front and experienced the night of the Transformation. Since then, he too had begun to exhibit Shade abilities, only now he was starting to experience physical and mental effects from their use, evidenced by the dark, shiny patches that had appeared on his arms and wrist. Would he undergo the same transformation?              

As they rounded a crumbling façade, Quinn caught sight of a giant, golem-like creature. One eye glowed orange. The other was dark. On its shoulder sat a lanky boy with a tumble of fair hair. The boy waved and then yelled at where the giant’s ear should have been. The giant lifted its great hand, the boy stepped onto it, and the giant deposited him on the ground.

Dad! The boy ran and threw his arms around Quinn.

Hardly daring to believe his eyes, Quinn pulled away, grasped the boy by the shoulders, and stared into his face. A lump formed in his throat. I left you on that station. I’m so sorry!

Conor’s face lit up. It’s okay, Dad. Zothan explained everything. It wasn’t your fault. Someone substituted another re-animate who made you believe he was me. Where is he?

Quinn held the boy’s cheeks and smiled. Don’t worry. He’s gone for good.

The Agantzane—did you meet them? What did they say?

Quinn’s expression grew sombre, like a cloud cutting off the sun’s light. The Agantzane are gone. They lived in this place once, but they died long ago.

Then who—

A secret group made up of individuals from many Consensus races took up their name and ideals. They’re the ones who destroyed the colony fleet, re-animated you, and inflicted me with the death touch. Ximun is one of them.  

Ximun?

Ximun, the giant echoed. Quinn and Conor stared up at it. My master is… Ximun.

~

Zothan crouched, as if preparing to flee. Quinn stepped in front of Conor, shielding the boy with his body, but the giant did not advance towards them. It merely swayed slightly, as if perplexed.

You spoke my new master’s name. That, and my presence here, were designed to unlock the memory of my reactivation. The construct turned slowly. I know this place.

You’ve been here before? Conor suggested.

No, it boomed. No, I have not.

Vyasa had called the giant creature a dolin—an ancient weapon created by the Agantzane. Quinn and Vyasa had pursued it as it blasted past the barrier that separated the Kimn enclave from Pann’s lower levels. Somehow, the construct had formed an attachment to Conor, yet it seemed confused. Maybe the Kimn assault had damaged its cognitive processes.

How do you remember this place if you’ve never been here? Conor pressed.

It is a root command placed within all dolin. We can never come here.

Quinn’s suspicion grew. And yet, here you are.

My new master overwrote the old commands. My primary function is to preserve the subjects and eliminate any threat to them. My secondary function is to bring the subjects to this place.

Subjects?

Conor is one. The new master instructed me to wait at Javras Landing until he appeared. When I recognised him, I followed him to the world of the old masters. Facial recognition indicates a 99.7 percent probability that you are the other.

Quinn nodded. The re-animate Conor made us divert to Javras Landing to deliver the artefact, but the Darshan courier never showed. There never was a Darshan courier, was there? You were the real reason we were sent there.

I executed my instructions, the dolin said. Its booming voice carried a note that was almost pride.

Except you goofed, as did Ximun. He never figured the first Conor would free himself and follow me all the way from the station, or that you would mistake him for the new re-animate.          

There is no mistake. You and he are the subjects.

It was like talking to a wall. Quinn had neither the time nor the patience to argue. He turned to Zothan. We can’t stay here. We’ve got to get off this world. 

 The journey to the upper level will be arduous, Zothan said. Transference is unsafe on the lower levels, but do not be concerned. I will keep you from harm. The boy will be safe inside the construct.

 Can I have a word with you?

Zothan cocked his wedge-shaped head in a gesture Quinn could not interpret. Very well.

Quinn started back the way they had come, and Zothan fell in step.

Dad?

Just stay there, Quinn called over his shoulder. We won’t be long, I promise.

Quinn waited until they rounded the broken-down wall and were out of sight and earshot. Then he turned to face Zothan. We have to leave it behind.

Zothan stared at him for a moment. I assume you are referring to the construct.

That’s right.

Are you sure that is wise?

It’s too dangerous. It’s a war machine created by the Agantzane. Ximun revived and programmed it to do God-knows-what. We can’t trust it.

Its principal directive seems to be to preserve you and Conor.

How do we know that? Quinn challenged. It didn’t even know the identity of its new master until memory of its revival was triggered. How do we know Ximun didn’t bury some secret instruction within its matrix?

We do not.

There. Quinn spread his arms wide. There, you see?

Zothan crooked a claw over his chin. How do you propose to abandon it? It is sworn to protect you and Conor. I doubt it would obey an order to stay here, and we have no way of disabling it.

Quinn broke into a conspiratorial smile. It can’t come after us if it can’t see us.

I do not follow.

I discovered a way of localising four-space. You form the conduit and create a… a kind of bubble.

Removing you from normal existence.

Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly! You can still move with the bubble, but you become invisible to anyone on the outside.

Zothan nodded. "Nemazi call it kakkoth-tamah. It is a technique commonly used by Nemazi assassins. However, the subuniverse is unstable. Maintaining it takes skill and training."

You’re right. On the way here, it collapsed many times. I had to constantly re-form it, but I’m getting better. I’m pretty sure we could use it to escape this area before the dolin realised what was happening.

Zothan paused. It is an ingenious plan. However, I am not sure Conor will agree to take part. He has bonded with the construct.

It’s a machine.

Nonetheless—

Look, I’m his father, okay? He’ll do as I say. It’s in his best interest. 

Zothan’s gaze fell. I know little of humans other than what I learned when our minds were combined in the vortex. However…

What is it?

I am forced to wonder whether you always did what your father said was in your best interest.

Quinn sighed. Okay, I see your point. But it doesn’t alter the fact that it’s too dangerous to have along.

The dolin has protected Conor since his arrival on this world. It rescued him when the Kimn Sisterhood placed him under sentence of death. If it were not for the construct, your son would have been expired.

Quinn’s expression hardened. That means nothing. It’s just a cog in another one of Ximun’s schemes. It can rot down here for all I care.      

~

Quinn found Conor seated near the giant’s foot, drawing patterns in the dust.

The boy glanced up and smiled. Are we leaving now?

Soon. Quinn replied. I wanted to show you something first. It’s how I made it all the way here. Would you like to see?

Sure.            

All right, just do as I say. Keeping his expression as neutral as possible, Quinn brought up the image of the tesseract and then folded it in his mind as he had done many times. Join opposite cubes to each other, then connect the top to the bottom without bending any of the sides—impossible without invoking a fourth spatial dimension—and there it was. A four-dimensional cube shone, rotating slowly. Dark smoke swirled as a tunnel began to form. Quinn felt pressure building, like a clenched fist between his eyes.

Instead of moving towards the tunnel, he drew it around him. It formed a smoke-filled torus that thinned as it expanded and re-formed into a sphere, its bottom passing beneath the ground. Its sides were like lightly frosted glass.

He located Conor and reached beyond the sphere, grabbing an arm and yanking him inside. The boy broke the sphere’s surface and gasped as he turned upside down. Quinn pulled him farther in and the boy righted, his feet coming to rest on the ground.

Sorry, Quinn mumbled. Should’ve warned you about that.

W-What’s going on, Dad? What is this?

As I understand it, we’re inside a four-dimensional space bubble.     

What does that mean?

Well, for one thing, we’re invisible to anyone in our reality.

Seriously?

Yep. It’s what got me all the way here. And it’s what we’re going to use to get back to the upper level.

A round shape beyond the sphere moved towards them. As it struck the sphere, rings flowed from the point of impact like ripples in a pond. The surface broke, and Zothan stepped through the hole. He nodded to Quinn as the hole continued to grow, revealing the inside of a second bubble. The bubbles coalesced and became one.

Quinn smiled at Conor. All right, let’s go.        

What, now? Conor asked.

We’ve no time to lose.

What about the dolin?

We don’t need it.

But we can’t just leave it here!

Beyond the sphere’s frosted edge, the dolin rose and headed straight for them. The last place it saw us.

Quinn fought to keep his tone light and airy. We have no choice. We don’t know what instructions Ximun might have programmed into it. Besides, it’s just a machine.

You’re wrong, Dad. It’s much more than that.

The boy is correct, Zothan broke in. According to legend, the Agantzane constructed the dolin using an unknown form of biotechnology. It is said that the stone warriors virtually constituted life-forms.

Quinn glared at him. Whose side are you on? 

It saved my life, Conor protested.

Only because it was programmed to bring you here, Quinn said. Like a sat nav. 

No, it was more than that. It knows what I’m feeling. When it sensed I was in danger, it broke free of its restraints and rescued me.  

Quinn placed a hand on Conor’s shoulder. Look, I’m sorry. We can’t take it with us.

No. Get me out of here! As the boy pulled away, his feet left the floor, and he drifted upside down.

Quinn grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Flailing, Conor turned right-side up and barrelled into Quinn. They tumbled in a heap as the giant loomed over them. Zothan stood motionless, his spindly arms and legs crooked.

Quinn pushed Conor off and raised a hand. It’s okay. We’re outside normal existence. It can’t see or hurt us. All we have to do is—

Pop. The bubble burst, admitting a rush of cold air.

I am sorry, Quinn, Zothan said. "Sustaining kakkoth-tamah is extremely difficult when more than two entities exist within its boundary."

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. Had Zothan deliberately sabotaged the phenomenon? His understanding of Shade abilities far exceeded Quinn’s own. He could easily have disrupted it. Was he surreptitiously siding with the boy? Zothan’s steady gaze gave no hint of deception.

Conor turned away with a pinched expression.

The giant gazed down at them. What happened? Where did you go?

The cold wind pummelled Quinn as if demanding an answer.

Nowhere, he said.

~

Protected by the four-space bubble, Quinn and Zothan trailed after the dolin as it ascended Pann’s levels. A bright orange beam from the giant’s only functioning eye lit the way ahead. It appeared to know the route as surely as Conor’s second re-animate. No doubt Ximun had programmed them with the same information.

Quinn had had no opportunity to reason with Conor. The boy signalled the dolin, and the construct lifted him onto its shoulder. From there, Conor crawled into a hidden compartment. When the dolin set off, Quinn followed like an obedient lap dog.

Zothan offered little in the way of conversation. Quinn wanted to press him about the bubble’s failure during their abortive escape attempt, but every way he could think of to broach it sounded like an accusation.

The plain they were traversing was covered by a thin layer of dust interspersed by hard grey patches that Quinn took to be the level’s original surface, though with so many ups, downs, twists, and turns, he was not sure which level this was or even how long they had been travelling.

The dolin halted midstep. Zothan stopped instantly.

Quinn was a second slower and felt the onset of the reverse-gravity effect. He managed a step back before his feet left the floor. He hissed at Zothan. What’s the matter? Why has it stopped?

I do not know, Zothan replied.

Of course not. Why should you? Quinn’s instinct was still to leave the dolin behind, but with Conor aboard, that wasn’t an option. He cupped a hand to his mouth. Hey!

Sound cannot enter or leave the subuniverse, Zothan pointed out.

Quinn reddened. All right, let’s shut it down.

Zothan nodded, and the bubble vanished. The air was still and silent, as if it had been awaiting their arrival for a thousand generations. The dolin turned, and Quinn squinted in its intense orange beam.

Why have we stopped? Quinn demanded.

I am detecting a signal, the dolin said.

Signal? What kind of signal?

It appears to be a call sign, though it is on an unusual frequency.

Like a distress beacon?

That would be one interpretation.

So far, the construct was not being very helpful. Who’s it from?

I cannot be certain, but it originates on this level.

Quinn turned to Zothan. What do you think?

This is only the third level up from ground, Zothan replied. The survival of any sentient life this far down seems highly unlikely.

So what… an old automated transmission, then?

That would be the most likely explanation, although…

What?

If it is still transmitting after all this time, then that would be quite remarkable.

Quinn heard muffled knocking. The giant knelt, a door on its back opened, and Conor emerged.

Quinn shook his head. This isn’t an archaeological expedition. Ximun and his Damise buddies are riding roughshod over the Consensus as we speak. Earth will be in their sights next. When we reach the upper level, we can tell the Kimn or anyone else who’s interested what we found, but we can’t afford any side excursions.

Conor clambered onto the dolin’s shoulder. What’s going on, Dad?

Quinn breathed a small sigh of relief. The boy’s manner held no trace of resentment over the earlier incident in the sphere. It’s nothing. Just an old distress signal somebody left switched on.

Maybe someone’s hurt?

Zothan thinks that’s highly unlikely.

But we can’t be sure, right?

Quinn felt as if the ground were slipping beneath his feet. Look, I appreciate your concern, but—

When we found the Shanata’s world destroyed, you insisted on going aboard that transport even though the odds of finding anyone alive were next to nil.

That was different?

How was it different?

Quinn recalled protracted debates with Conor on Eire Colony over whether or not the family should get a dog. They’re messy. The shipping and quarantine costs from Earth are exorbitant. Someone will have to walk it. Wouldn’t a hamster be more practical? All the arguments that made sense to an adult went up in smoke when presented to a teenager.

Before Quinn could finish preparing a little speech about urgency and the fate of humankind, Zothan whispered in his ear. Quinn.

His eye followed where the Nemazi was pointing. On the plain ahead of them, lights flickered on, illuminating a series of concentric rings. Lines radiated from a central hub, suggesting a single, vast construction.

Conor gazed wide-eyed at the sight. Let’s go meet them!

~

Feeling like a reluctant bride, Quinn trailed after the dolin as it descended a shallow slope. He had questioned the others about the identity of the race that had occupied this level and come up empty. Conor insisted that the knowledge placed within him by the Agantzane didn’t include information on Pann. Zothan had no inkling of this world’s distant past, and the dolin had been put to sleep before the first level was constructed.

Quinn hadn’t discounted the possibility that this was another of Ximun’s little tricks. Perhaps the Agantzane had got wind of the fact that he hadn’t done away with himself on Pann’s ground level as they’d intended. Perhaps this was a diversionary tactic. If so, then who knew what traps awaited them?

Even if the Agantzane were not involved, then by all appearances, he and the others were walking blindly into the lair of an ancient and very powerful race.

As they approached, Quinn found himself hoping that they would be unable to find the door. Or that if they did find it, it would be locked, and they would be forced to turn away from the siren call of this long-forgotten civilisation and resume the mission at hand.

The lighted edifice spread out before them. How could a race that had been buried for close to three thousand years generate that kind of power? Was it possible any of them could still be alive? The sheer wall rose like a cliff, smooth and impenetrable.

Quinn gazed up at it. Looks like there’s no way in.

Perched on the dolin’s shoulder, Conor urged the construct forward. As it drew close to the structure, a section of the outer wall vanished, revealing a dolin-sized hole.

It seems we are expected, Zothan said.

Quinn balked at the realisation that nothing he said was going to make a difference. They were going inside.

~

Cocooned in the sphere and with Zothan by his side, Quinn passed through the opening. As soon as they were through, the wall solidified behind them. Inside was darkness. The dolin’s shining eye swept the area. They were in a section of a hall that stretched away to the left and right.

Zothan collapsed the sphere, plunging them back into three-dimensional space. As Quinn opened his mouth to object, the walls and ceiling began to glow. The passage curved away into the distance. The inner wall was lined with transparent cylinders that looked like giant test tubes. There were dozens, possibly hundreds of them. Mesmerised, Quinn walked slowly towards one, dimly aware of Zothan at his shoulder. Stopping just before it, he peered into its depths.

Inside was the dim outline of a creature suspended in pale-green fluid. It was the size of a child, with a proboscis and long ears flattened against its head. Its eyes were closed, and artificial tubes were attached to its body. A memory surfaced of a shelf in his biology classroom where dead things were