What difference does it make? Once, long ago, the creatures who built this city fought an implacable enemy. And lost. Their city was ground down to dust. A civilization was destroyed. Another turn of the wheel.
Wearily, I took my helmet off and used it for a pillow as I stretched myself out on the rubble-strewn floor and gazed up at the darkening sky, those strange patterns of alien constellations. And with all my heart I wanted to be with Anya, to see her, to speak with her, to watch her fathomless gray eyes when she smiled at me, to touch her, hold her, love her and know that she still loved me.
Clasping my hands behind my neck, I said to myself, You boasted to the Golden One that you could find her without his help. All right, then, let’s see you do it.
At least I could try.
I closed my eyes and attempted to remember those times when I had been translated across the continuum. The moments of nothingness. The cryogenic cold of the void between place-times. The endless dance of the atoms slowing, shifting, energies glowing and radiating in an endless coruscation, rising and waning like the tides, like the moon, like life itself.
Nothing happened. When I opened my eyes I was still in the shattered remains of the long-dead city, lying on the littered floor of one of its roofless bombed-out buildings. It was deep night; the stars had shifted noticeably above me. The luminous ribbon of the Milky Way twisted across the sky, clouds of stars, rich beyond counting. That pale, tiny, distant moon looked down on me sorrowfully. It seemed vaguely familiar, as if I had known it in another life, a different era.
Who are you?
I felt the voice, rather than heard it. The faintest thread of a question, inside my mind.
Who are you? it repeated.
“I am Orion,” I answered aloud.
You are not like the others.
“What others?”
Those who call themselves the Skorpis. And their allies.
That made my chin come up. “Allies? What allies?”
We have seen you before. You were here yet not here.
“What do you mean? Who are you?”
No answer. Only a sense of utter revulsion. And then it was gone. I was alone again. Whoever—whatever—it was, it had left me.
I sat up and pondered. I had not imagined the contact; it was real. And it was here, in this space-time. It knew of the Skorpis. And it said that the Skorpis were not alone; they had “allies” with them.
“Who are you?” I called out.
No reply.
“I identified myself to you. It’s only fair that you tell me who you are.” The words sounded slightly ridiculous to me even as I spoke them. Some entity contacts me telepathically and I demand that they follow the rules of etiquette.
I sensed an amusement, although it might have been merely my own feelings of foolishness.
I waited there, squatting on the littered floor, until the sky began to turn milky pale above me. Admitting defeat, I got up and returned to the building where my troopers had camped.
Manfred was standing in the doorway at street level, rifle in his hands.
“Captain!” he snapped. “You’re all right!”
“Of course I’m all right,” I said.
“We spent half the night searching for you. When you disappeared—”
“I was inspecting the city,” I said curtly. “If I had run into trouble I would have contacted you on the emergency frequency.”
In the gray light of dawn Manfred’s taut face looked half disappointed, half relieved. “Yes, sir, I suppose so. But still, we expected you to return and when you didn’t…” His voice trailed off.
I clasped him on the shoulder. “You’re right, Manfred. I should have told you that I was going to spend the night exploring. It’s my fault. I hope you didn’t lose too much sleep.”
“No, sir. I’m fine.” But now that I looked at him closely I could see that his eyes were baggy from sleeplessness.
The troop breakfasted on prepacked rations; then I sent them out by squads to check out the ruins and locate the best defensive positions they could find. Each squad went out under its top sergeant; I kept the officers with me.