Fragments

From the journals of Provost Guisseppe Alustro, Eskatonic Order, in the service of Lady Erian Li Halan.

Night on Hira is bright when the bombs go off. The sky is lit with the fiery, short-lived glow of munitions. The Hazat and Kurgan Caliphate forces never seem to tire of war.

But the lights and the sounds eventually fade as the night grows older and the soldiers tire, and peace settles over the broken land. The rubble of countless villages lies as a no-man's land between the forces' current embattlements, with only long-range missiles, aerial fly-bys and the occasional theurgic rite forming any contact between the enemies.

We are safe here for now. In the ruins of Matanto city, in the blasted basement labyrinth of the former ruler's palace, we have taken shelter to search the past for our future. This building, constructed during the Second Republic of strong maxicrete and plasteel, has lasted through a millennia of erosion only to be torn open and exposed to the sky by a series of direct artillery barrages.

It wasn't even looted. Once the ruling family escaped the burning town, the Hazat and Kurgan forces moved on, fighting over new lands not yet sworn to either side. Why they mutually assaulted this city, I don't really understand. My lady Erian says it had something to do with the ruler's neutrality, an increasingly rare and dangerous thing to both Hazat and Kurgan - it is a tactical mistake to let anybody live who could later ally with an enemy. Tactical mistake, perhaps, but a moral gesture, something lacking in the behavior of both sides. I am ashamed at the way one of our own, a royal family of the Known Worlds, attempts to bring the civilized rule of the empire to this barbarian world. I am even more ashamed of the Patriarch's complaisant role in this. Were he here to witness the atrocities, he would surely move to reign them in with all the powers at his command. Or so I like to believe.

I don't even know who is winning the war. From our vantage, it is impossible to tell who is gaining ground. It seems that no one is. Well, little matter. As long as the fighting does not make its way back here, our mission can proceed without interruption.

Consul Darok Rohmer is our neighbor in the palace. We did not expect to find anyone when we arrived, but he was already here, the only one in the city who did not flee when the war reached the town. His fellows in the Reeves guild surely believed him dead. A great loss, for Consul Rohmer was one of the foremost authorities on the Anunnaki, the precursor race who left behind the jumpgates. His studies brought him here, to this old Second Republic museum, once a treasure trove of Ur artifacts, then a noble palace, and now ruins.

It is our reason for coming here, too. Clues on our quest to resolve the great vision given Erian by the Gargoyle of Nowhere - a foreboding Ur artifact in itself - led us here, to this war-torn planet just outside of the Known Worlds. Something was here for us, some ancient piece in a present-day puzzle that, once assembled, would spell the fate and duty of my noble lady. Thus, I, my liege Erian Li Halan, her bodyguard Cardanzo, pilot Julia Abrams, friend Onganggorak (a Vorox) and associate Sanjuk oj Kaval (an Ur-Ukar), arrived in the Resurgent to resolve our quest.

We hid our ship under camouflage tarp in the nearby hills and set up camp in the ruins of the palace. It did not take long for Ong to sniff out Rohmer, who hid in the lowest level, evading all patrols that passed through. At first, Rohmer feared we were scavengers or Hazat conscription forces, and he led Ong a chase through the seemingly endless corridors below. But once caught by our over-eager friend and presented to Erian, he realized that we were independents, unaligned (or, at least not working) with any side in the war.

Since then, he has been gracious enough to show us about the museum in return for our aid in lifting and removing rubble, and for cooked meals. His rations were running rather low by the time we arrived; it was a blessing for him that we were well-stocked.

Cardanzo spent most of his time patrolling the region, making sure nobody came near to our camp. On two occasions he chased away local refugees - starving bandits, by his report - who came too near. He had wisely prepared for such a role before we had embarked on this journey, and now wore Hazat military garb. Anyone who saw him feared he was a ranger for a greater force nearby.

As the others tended mainly to logistical or defense matters, Erian and I combed the ruins for the sculpture seen in her dream: an Ur mandala. This item was carved from the same alloy as the jumpgates (the copperish-purple metal no one has ever identified) and was studded with glowing jewels. More importantly, Erian believed that the mandala pattern itself was a key of sorts, some sort of clue into what? She did not know, but we all knew it was important, part of the greater tapestry of visions she had experienced since her coming-of-age on Midian.

So we spent the days searching the museum. Rohmer had not seen the piece, but helped us search whenever he could. He had research of his own here was trying to finish, a search for the lost Anunnaki culture as revealed in their language and art. This was a monumentally hard task, for what clues they left behind are mere fragments; the whole only came together after study over far-flung worlds, and even then provided only a hazy image, a warped imperfection in stained glass.

"No, we don't know what they looked like," he told me, "but we do know something of their behavior as revealed in the myths of the Obun and Ukar, the Oro'ym and the ancient legends of Urth itself. Yes, Urth, cradle of humanity. I believe, as did the xenologists of the Second Republic, that the Anunnaki visited Urth in its infancy and guided the early footsteps of humankind. The fact that a jumpgate exists there, and the known ruins on Mars, is proof enough. But there are sites on Holy Terra itself, although they are not acknowledged as such. Ancient places where only vague traces remain, a stray rock here, a carving there."

"Have you seen any of these?" I asked. "Where are they?"

"All over the planet. If there's one good the Church has done, it's to keep Holy Terra pristine, a living museum. Certainly, many complain when their request to emigrate to the Cradle is denied, but thank the Pancreator for it! The world was once trampled with too many feet - as Byzantium Secundus and Leagueheim are now - and they kick away the footprints of those who went before."

I noticed that he was not specific in naming a site, but chose not to question him further. As he began to open up more, he would perhaps tell me one or two of these places.

"See this?" he said, pointing to a cylinder sealed behind a see-through case, lit by an everlight, glowing since its Second Republic maker set it to burning a thousand years ago. "What do you think that is?"

I looked carefully at it, walking around its case to see it from all angles. It was smooth, with carvings all over, abstract designs with a hint of anthropomorphism in certain swirls. Carved from the unearthly alloy common to Ur artifacts, it had no opening: a perfectly sealed rod. Yet, somehow, in some strange way, I knew it was hollow, that some unspeakable space was enclosed within it, an otherworldly place sharing our space, our dimension.

"A king's scepter, perhaps?" I said, noticing his look of disappointment. "Or a phallus? Perhaps a fertility sculpture?"

"You apply modern concepts to the distant past," he said shaking his head. "But don't feel stupid: your answers are the same as Crafter Oncales at the Academy Interatta. You see, there is an exact duplicate of this cylinder at that school. Indeed, I bet you could find at least one in every system of the Known Worlds. Do you know why?"

I shook my head.

"Because it comes from a jumpgate. This one was removed from the jumpgate of this very system. I don't know where the academy's is from. This one's removal, I believe, is what caused this planet to disappear from Human Space for many years."

"This? This is the reason Hira's jumpgate shut down, keeping all ships out of the system for centuries?"

"I believe so. But I don't think the scientists who took it knew. It is one of the last additions to the collection."

"Then why did the gate open again? If this item is here, why does the gate now respond to codes it ignored for years?"

"I'm not sure about that. If I was, I would be the most celebrated man in the Known Worlds, wouldn't I? The Emperor surely has need of such lore to open all the closed gates to all the Lost Worlds of Human Space. Perhaps it's like a fuse; when removed, no circuits can complete themselves. The jumpgates have already shown signs of self-repair. It is no great leap to imagine that, over the years, the jumpgate rerouted itself so that energy could flow again."

"A machine that repairs itself? How can such a thing be? That would imply life."

"The genius of its manufacture eludes us, as does the genius of all Anunnaki science. All of it built on unknown scientific principles. The line between animate life and mere matter - mind and matter - grows indistinct the more one studies the Ur races. Nothing lasts. Nothing but Ur tech," he said wistfully.

I stared in awe at the cylinder. He looked at me and smiled, shaking his head again.

"Don't go worshipping it, now. I could be wrong, you know. It may be a simple antenna, or a strut meant to help maintain structural integrity. We can't really know for sure. It's all just theory."

"Unknown principles" I said, looking away from it. "Well, I must continue the search. Thank you for your time again."

"Think nothing of it. Any more questions, feel free to ask. By the way, what's for dinner tonight? Are you going to fix another of those Ukari dishes? I rather enjoy the way the worms squirm as you bite them."

I thought he was being sarcastic at first, but he seemed to genuinely like Ukari cuisine. I had fixed some the previous night, based on a recipe Sanjuk had provided, attempting to use as much local resources as possible rather than our sealed stores. Ukari cuisine is a subterranean dining experience: mushrooms and earthworms.

"Perhaps," I said, turning to go. "I shall have to poll the others about their responses to last night's meal"

Erian was not where I had left her, so I went up the stairs to the level above, coming out into the night air, now still and quiet after the nightly artillery died. Erian was there, whispering to Julia and Sanjuk. I came close and coughed to announce myself.

"Alustro," Erian said. "I don't want to alarm you, but Cardanzo believes soldiers are approaching the town. We may have to evacuate."

"Now? But we haven't found the object of our quest yet!" I complained.

"Keep your voice down," Julia said. "That thing ain't worth our lives." She looked to Erian as she said this, hoping for confirmation.

"Alustro and I will keep searching. Sanjuk, will you help? There's a large room with no lights and your upbringing in the dark may help us."

Sanjuk sighed. "I have lived in the light for twenty years. Only five were spent in the dark, and even then, my clan was not traditional. I knew what a fusion torch was at two. But yes, I will help you. I'm still surely better at moving in darkness than you blind humans."

Erian frowned but said nothing. She was used to Sanjuk's manner by now, and knew better than to press royal rules of intercourse here. She turned to the stairs, and Sanjuk and I followed. Julia remained above, watching for Cardanzo and Ong's return from their patrol.

The room was indeed dark. Our fusion torches seemed to penetrate only slightly into the gloom, and a thin mist could be felt and barely seen in the air. Consul Rohmer, who had joined us on our way down, coughed.

"Eternair" he muttered.

"Excuse me, consul?" Erian said. "What did you say?"

"It's Eternair. Eternal Air. A preservative atmosphere devised by Second Republic archivists to use when sealing things in cases. It's meant to keep those items unchanged over time. It's near miraculous. A canister must have broken somewhere in the room. With little ventilation, the stuff stays in the air here."

"Is it dangerous to breath?" I asked.

"I hope not," he replied.

We continued on into the room, navigating the cases and shelves. This did appear to be an archivist's room, for many items were displayed on tables with tags clearly showing that they were not yet ready for public display. Most of the items were reproductions of actual Ur items, made from extensive drawings and holograms. A few items were genuine, however. Consul Rohmer's obvious interest in these told me which were real and which fake.

"You know," Sanjuk said from somewhere up ahead, unseen in the darkness. "I really think we should set up some of the camp lights down here. We're not going to find anything in this light."

Erian sighed. "You are right. We will set them up during the day tomorrow, once we've heard from Cardanzo about the approaching troops."

"If the troops don't get here first," Sanjuk said.

We left the room and returned to our camp in the servant's quarters on the first level of the palace. This section was in the rear of the building, its back entrance now blocked by rubble. Anybody entering would have to come through the main hall, where we could see them well before they saw us. Cardanzo had led a search through the upper levels, now open to the elements, and had identified a number of sniper points he could assume if necessary. One of these, the remaining high tower, part of the original architecture, we used as a watchpost. Looking up at it from the street below, I could barely make out the old museum sign, now partially covered with the local ruler's torn and dirty flag: "Museum of the Ancients, Estab-" I wondered what date it read.

Cardanzo and Ong had returned from their patrol. The approaching troops were rangers, teams from both sides of the conflict. They each entered the market section of town, a few miles from us, and left soon after encountering each other (with no shots fired, apparently).

"I think now that each knows the other was here, they will move troops in force, each believing the other is trying to claim this ground," Cardanzo said. "With luck, it'll take them two days to get back here. We need to be gone by then."

"We will spend another day searching," Erian said. "Then leave."

"No later," Cardanzo said, looking into his liege's eyes. "We still need time to escape atmosphere before any fighters take to the skies."

"That's all we need!" Julia said. "A dogfight between Hazat and Kurgans. Oh, yeah, I can fly through that no problem!"

"Point taken," Erian said. "We leave tomorrow evening then. No later."

I was relieved to know we'd be out of danger soon, but nervous that we would leave without our prize. As I prepared dinner (chorro steaks, courtesy of Ong, who came back from his patrol with a catch, saving us from another Ukari dinner), I cast my mind into the museum and walked through every room I knew, trying to divine where the curators would have kept the mandala. The smell of burnt steak woke me from my musings, and I consented to have the spoiled meat for my plate while I paid greater attention to the others' preparations.

As I served the steaks and finally sat down to eat myself, a loud chiming sound broke the silence. Everyone looked at me.

"Uhm sorry," I said, placing my plate on the scuffed table and running to my bags nearby. I pulled the small, hand-held think machine from its pouch and touched the power stud, shutting off the chimes.

"Why does that thing always go off?" Julia said, glaring at me. "I hate it. Can't you tell time like the rest of us?"

"It's not for telling time," I explained. "And that alarm was to remind me that it is only a number of hours till Renewal Day, the anniversary of Zebulon's healing by Saint Amalthea."

"That's nice and all, but what's it got to do with us here? There's far better uses to put a rare think machine, you know. Can't you just pray at dawn like most priests?"

"Dawn on Hira is not dawn on Grail. My think machine is set to automatically begin a recitation of the Thankful Exaltation, the Latin chorus as delivered by Zebulon to Amalthea, on exactly the proper moment: when dawn breaks over Mount Siddik."

Julia rolled her eyes. "And what the heck does it matter if you miss the exact moment? I'm sure Saint Amalthea will forgive you; she's certainly forgiven much worse."

"That's not the point. I am an Eskatonic; the energetic correspondences are very important. By opening a channel in our hearts and minds at the proper moment, we cast our light back to Grail, and it is in turn reflected back to us. In this way, we partake of the divine moment as if we were on Grail itself. The theurgic significance is incredible."

"Whatever," Julia said, finishing her steak and then rising to stretch. "Just don't let that racket wake me before my watch!" She left for her sleeping bag in the garret directly above us.

I checked the program again to be sure its clock was correct and set the liturgy to play upon the appointed hour. After cleaning and storing the cookware, I crawled into my own sleeping bag by the kitchen.

That evening, I did not dream. This is not unusual except that I had dreamed every night since we arrived on Hira, dreams of ruins and combat.

We spent the following afternoon searching the darkened room. We moved all our portable lights there and found the illumination enough for a cursory search. Consul Rohmer idly examined the Ur artifacts and replicas.

"I had hoped to make my fortune here," he said. "To build my life. I doubt anything can come of this now. I don't dare alert anyone, or the Hazat will storm in seeking war-tech. Best to leave it be for now until I can get others to come. So little of this can be moved."

"Can't we just remove the artifacts from the cases?" I asked.

"Have you ever tried cracking one of those things? Near impossible, not without shipyard grade tools. And the cases themselves are likewise immovable, meant to deter thieves in an era where such criminals had high tech means to steal. No, most of this will remain here as it has for centuries."

"But that means If the mandala is in a case, we'll never get it out!"

He looked at me sympathetically. "Well, we can always take holograms of it. I have a camera with me."

Sanjuk came over. "A holocamera? That must of set you back a few firebirds."

"Not really," Rohmer said, continuing his idle search. "I took it in return for a bad debt, in my younger days in Collections. The debtor paid up eventually anyway, but I kept the camera."

"There is nothing here!" Erian said from a few shelves away, frustrated. "Surely we would have found it by now if they kept it in this room."

"Perhaps we should try elsewhere," I suggested. "There's still the back wing"

"It's strictly Diaspora era," Rohmer said. "I checked when I first arrived."

"What if the mandala was discovered then?" Erian said. "Wouldn't it be kept there?"

"Well, I suppose it's possible," Rohmer said. "I wasn't looking for it in my search, since I hadn't met you yet. It's at least worth another look."

"Sanjuk, would you come with me?" Erian said, heading for the door. "Alustro, please keep searching here, just in case."

"But I'd like to see some Diaspora artifacts!"

"Just dioramas mainly," Rohmer said. "Images the Second Republic believed were true of life during humanity's first spread to the stars. Rather boring, actually."

Erian was already gone, so I resigned myself to a continued search. I had worked my way down the far left aisle and was ready to traverse the back wall when a rumble shook the building.

"They can't be shelling this early," Rohmer said, confused, looking at the ceiling as if he could see through it to the skies above.

"I think we should leave, consul," I said, moving toward the door. "If they are shelling, it may mean troops are advancing already."

He sighed. "Alright, but let's go back through the east wing. I want one last look at-"

The air exploded and the ceiling collapsed, burying me under a pile of tiles. I coughed, singed from the fire that had momentarily engulfed me. The Eternair must have ignited, I thought. But the mist still swirled around me, so it had not all gone up.

I pushed the tiles off and crawled to my feet. Half of the room was gone, blocked by a wall of rock, dirt and furniture from the levels above. "Consul?" I yelled.

"Here" a weak voice answered. I worked my way over to him across the sliding tiles and rock. Consul Rohmer was half buried under a maxicrete strut, his head bleeding, his hand clutching his chest.

"It's finally over" he moaned.

"I can heal you!" I cried, trying to lift the maxicrete that pinned him. "But we have to move this strut!"

"No" he said, his eyes glazing. "It doesn't matter. Your faith can't heal plastic."

"What? I don't understand," I said, trying to raise the strut but failing completely. It was too heavy. If Ong were here-

"Don't don't bother." He coughed blood. "My heart it's cybernetic. My third one. The others failed. I knew this would, too. That's why I came. To make something of myself, to complete my work."

"But maybe we Julia can fix it," I stammered.

"Leave me here," he said, weaker, barely audible. "Among the Ur. Close the door on your way out. Air will preserve me." His eyes closed and a final breath escaped his body.

I now understood his respect for the artifacts around him. They were the only things to last in a world of entropy. Everything died - people, culture, even the stars. But the Anunnaki had crafted with their unknown principles things immune to the laws of decay.

I felt for a pulse but could find none, then placed my hand on his false heart, tears welling in my eyes. I said the Prayer to the Departed, asking the Pancreator to draw Consul Rohmer's illuminate soul to its reward, to protect it as it traversed the dim and dying spaces. And then I switched off all the camp lights in the room and closed the door, leaving him in the peaceful, preserved dark.

I looked about, trying to get my bearings in the aftermath of death. My survival was important now, and I feared for my liege and companions. Had they been buried, too? The hall was a mess; my way was blocked on all sides. Only a thin ray of light from atop a pile of stone (a later addition to the palace, not a part of the original structure) promised a way of escape. I climbed and began to pull dirt and rock aside. I soon had a small hole through which I could squeeze. It was tight but I was soon on the ground floor again.

I stood, scraping dust off and surveying the area. The walls no longer existed, and gaping holes into the museum could be seen the length of the palace. I had no idea where I was standing. Was it the main hall or the dining room?

The sun was setting on the horizon and it was growing dark very quickly. As I stepped forward to search for my liege, praying she was still alive and well, a footstep sounded behind me. I turned and stared into the eyes of a Kurgan ranger, his rifle pointed straight at me.

He should have shot me on sight. But something was wrong. I could see fear in his eyes. Not fear of me, but fear of death. His arm bled profusely, although it still seemed usable. His face was one of near shock, a man too long on the front lines.

But courage returned, and he slowly raised his rifle to aim.

Then the Prophet sang.

He paused, confused. From nearby, under a thin shale of tile, came the chorus of the Thankful Exaltation. My think machine. It was now dawn on Grail: the divine moment had arrived.

He looked at me and then at the sky, as if shocked to realize the time and the day. He slowly lowered his rifle, looking into my eyes to see what I would do, and brought his hands together in prayer.

I joined him. We both closed our eyes and answered the chorus.

"And the light that burns, burns away poison.

And the hands that heal tend the flame"

He knew the Latin words. Our cultures, separated by time and the gulfs between the stars, still each remembered the deeds of the Prophet and knew them to be holy. Tears ran down my face as I answered the chorus line by line, unfearful, for I heard his voice singing, too.

When the program ended, and silence fell, we each slowly opened our eyes and looked at the other. Before anything further could pass between us, he stood and clambered over the stones. He was out of sight before I could think to yell to him, to offer to heal his wound.

I stood there for a time, thinking upon the wonders revealed amid the horror. Eventually, Onganggorak shook my shoulder, startling me. He had crept through the ruins silently, a great Vorox hunter.

"Alustro, are you well? I smell no injury," he said tenderly.

"I am fine, Ong. Where are the others? Is Erian okay?"

"She is wounded, but will live. Cardanzo guards her at the Resurgent and Julia prepares to leave. I came to find you, little confessor."

I smiled. "That was foolhardy. Kurgans are here. You could have been caught."

"Hmmph. We cannot leave without you. Ong's life is little next to yours," he said, tugging me to leave with him.

I made to disagree but finally assented and went over to the pile of shale that hid my bags and my think machine, the device which had saved my life today. "I'm ready."

"Where is the consul? I cannot find his scent. He should leave with us," Ong said.

"He died," I said. "He rests with his artifacts."

Ong nodded and made a grunting noise, a statement of some sort in his own tongue, but before I could ask what he meant, he turned to go, motioning me with one of his four arms to follow.

As we began our trek to the ship, the sky thundered and glowed. Bombs flew once more. The flickering light of the deadly fireworks lit the area, and I saw the remains of the high tower, now scattered across the ground. The ruler's flag was gone and the museum sign stood bare. I could now read it:

Museum of the Ancients. Established 3973. "And the Anunnaki fashioned their individual shrines, the 300 younger gods of heaven and the Anunnaki of the Apsu all assembled."

I stood in shock, staring at the sign. "Ong!" I cried, and he came running, sniffing the air and casting his eyes all about. "There!" I pointed to the sign.

Underneath the ancient quote from some long-forgotten Urth text was a beautiful mandala.

Our mandala.

I rushed over to the sign to examine it. It was the very same seen in Erian's dream - copperish-purple alloy, four images quartered around a central star. "This is it, Ong. Our artifact."

I tugged at it, and it snapped right off its base. We both stared at each other, chills traveling up our spines. Of all the Ur artifacts in the museum, why was this one so easily removed? I looked at the base it had rested on and realized that it had taken a direct artillery hit. The ceramsteel was melted and pitted, blackened every place but where the mandala had rested. The metal and magnetic glue had given out, but the artifact was unblemished.

I decided that enough was enough. Placing the mandala in my bag, we headed off to the ship. Ong blazed the trail, taking small paths through the ruins. I heard voices from afar, and radio chatter, but Ong's path avoided all patrols.

We finally arrived at the ship. As I entered the hatch and Ong closed it behind me, I heard Erian call to me from her cabin. I ran quickly and saw her lying on the bed, her leg wrapped in red bandages.

"My lady!" I yelled, and immediately set to examining her wound. Cardanzo put his hand on my shoulder.

"She is fine, Alustro. I staunched the blood flow."

Erian looked tired but she was awake. I reached into my bag and produced the artifact, holding it up to show her.

"The mandala!" she cried, trying to rise to her feet. Cardanzo and I both rushed to keep her down, slowly lowering her back into bed. She gazed at it wondrously. "Where did you find it?"

"The sign. The museum sign covered by the flag, the one on the tower. All this time, right above us."

She looked at me and a I felt a rush of pride. "Well done, my priest. Well done."

I nodded and rose. "Get your rest, lady. We can examine it later." I left the artifact with her as I headed to my cabin to change out of my filthy clothes. I would tell her about Consul Rohmer later, when there was time to reflect on a life now past. I felt the rumble of the engines and knew the ship was taking off.

As I entered my cabin, I heard Sanjuk and Julia talking in the cockpit.

"I can't believe he found it," Sanjuk said. "Of all the dumb luck."

"I knew he would," Julia said. "It's not luck. The boy's got a track record."

I smiled, knowing that her comment was not meant for me to hear.

The next few hours were rough, as Julia encountered two squadrons of Hazat troops demanding we land to be examined by their military generals. Of course she denied all requests in Erian's name, knowing our ship would be conscripted if it fell into their hands, and flew us out of the way of most conflict. Our ship's shield easily deflected the few shots we took.

As I write this, we have not yet reached the jumpgate. Julia intends to hide behind the last planet until the jumpgate is clear, or until the few ships there engage enemies coming or going. Then we'll slip over as quickly as possible, activate the gate, and be gone from this place.

I am confident that we will encounter little problem. We have come too far, and the fates have been too kind. Why would they mean us disaster now? The pattern is clearer now, fragments assembled by some principle whose meaning is as yet unknown.

From The Sinful Stars