Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

As they drew close, it became clear they did not see Legroeder and Deutsch before them. “Excuse me!” Legroeder called, stepping out to get their attention. They still appeared not to see him, and he flattened himself to the wall to get out of their way.

The nearest, a heavyset man, brushed against him; the man passed through him as if he were a ghost. Legroeder turned to gape as the trio receded down the passageway. Their voices dopplered down to a distorted bass rumble.

“That was very interesting,” Deutsch remarked, floating out into the center of the corridor again. “What do you suppose just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Legroeder said. “But I hope we can find someone on this ship who can talk to us.”

“Or on Phoenix ,” Deutsch said. “I’m not getting a com-signal. Are you?”

Legroeder felt a sudden chill; he’d not thought to check. (Are we?)

// There is no com-signal. //

He shook his head. “You don’t suppose it could just be our implant function messed up?”

“Maybe. Or maybe we haven’t quite made it all the way back to our own space,” Deutsch said softly.

Legroeder’s jaw muscles tightened. If Impris could be trapped in its own space, floating like a specter out of contact with others, what was to prevent individuals from being similarly trapped? He squeezed his hands into fists. Don’t jump to conclusions . “Do you know which way to the bridge?”

“This way, I think.”

They walked awhile, and finally found a directional map showing them to be aft of the passenger’s recreational area. Once they located the main corridor, they moved quickly along its deserted length. Were there any real people here?

The answer came finally when they passed through a large passenger lounge and found a scattering of people, as one might on a large ship, late at night. “I wonder if these folks will see us,” Deutsch murmured.

Seated at a coffee table, two women were playing cards. One, blonde, looked to be in her twenties; the other was a brunette, somewhat older. The brunette sat with her blouse partly open in back—as if she had been interrupted in process of dressing and transported to this spot, with no memory of what she had been doing. The blonde, sitting opposite, was absorbed in her hand of cards. As Deutsch and Legroeder approached, she looked up at them. She seemed to focus on Legroeder’s face and started to speak. For a moment he thought she was going to address him; then the older woman said something, and the blonde looked back down at her cards.

Legroeder frowned, stepping close to the table. He peered at the cards and asked, “What are you playing?”

The younger woman held out a card, placing it on the center of the coffee table—and as Legroeder bent for a better look, she peered right through him. She spoke again, and her voice was incomprehensibly distorted.

“They don’t see you,” Deutsch said. “Let’s go.”

Passing along the length of the lounge, they came to a young man absorbed in a stand-up holo-game of twisting lights and strange sounds, all contained within a ghostly shadow-curtain. Was this what the game was supposed to look like? Legroeder wondered—or was it, too, being distorted? He stepped up beside the young man. “Good game?”

“Mrrrrk-k-k-k-ll…”

“Can you hear me?”

The man, reaching out to fiddle with a control on the game board, put his hand through Legroeder’s left arm. Legroeder drew a deep breath. If there’s a way to get here, there has to be a way to get out, he told himself, as though chanting a mantra. Only half believing it, he followed Deutsch onward.

At the end of the lounge, an old man was sitting with his feet propped on the table, reading a book. As they went by, the man looked up, arching his eyebrows. “Don’t recall seeing you two here before,” he said. “You must be off a’ that other ship, the one that’s knockin’ us off kilter—”

Legroeder could scarcely breathe. “You can see us?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but… well, you’re the first person who’s—”

“Wait a minute,” said Deutsch. “You said we’re knocking you off kilter?”

The man chuckled. “Well, begging your pardon—things have gone from bad to worse since you got here, what with the time waves and all.” He marked his place in the book and closed it. “Don’t get me wrong. But I hear people saying your arrival must have upset something in the continuum. Not that I understand how things could possibly be worse—except if we take you along with us.”

Legroeder stared at him open-mouthed.

// If we might interject—it could be very important to determine whether or not this is true. //

(No kidding,) Legroeder thought.

“We passed through an instability ourselves, not long ago,” Deutsch said.

The man laughed. “You’re in good company. Twice now, since I been reading my book here, I found myself having dinner again last night.” He grimaced. “The first time was bad enough. They used to have good food on this ship. That was before everything came from the recyclers.”

“Do you have any idea where we might find the captain?” Legroeder asked. “We were meeting with him, and then this wall of darkness—”

The old man waved him to silence. “If the same thing happened to him, he could be most anywhere. But you’re headed in the right direction for the bridge and crew section. Just keep going till you get to the royal blue doors.”

“Thank you,” Deutsch said, his face flickering with augment activity. He peered up the corridor with his primary eyes, while his cheekbone eyes remained fixed on the man. “Any chance you might come with us? Help us if we get lost?”

“Jesus, that’s weird. Your eyes, I mean. No offense.” The man shook his head. “No, I’d rather just read my book, if that’s okay with you. It’s a happier way to go.”

“All right,” said Legroeder. “Thanks, then.”

They continued quickly on.

It seemed only a dozen heartbeats later when Legroeder suddenly shivered, blinked…

—wave of shadow passing over—

…grabbed for Deutsch, didn’t find him, felt a rush of disorientation, his vision swimming…

He refocused with an effort and found himself in the meeting room with Captain Friedman, Jamal, and Poppy. He struggled for breath as he peered around the room. No Deutsch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Friedman asked.

Legroeder couldn’t tell if the captain was angry or just surprised. “I’m—not sure—” Legroeder gasped. “I think I just got transported to… tonight . At least… some night. There was a passenger lounge, and hardly any people. Most of them couldn’t see me.”

Friedman grunted.

“A passenger told us that things had grown more unstable since our arrival—”

“Told us? Who’s us?”

“Rigger Deutsch. I found him back there, and then we got separated again. Have you seen him since—?”

“I’m right here,” said Deutsch, beside him.

Legroeder jumped, startled.

“I have not seen Rigger Deutsch since—oh, there he is,” Friedman said, squinting. He shook his head. “What were you saying?”

“That the instabilities may be worse as a result of our presence here. May I take a moment to contact my ship?”

“Certainly. Do you need a com-unit?”

Legroeder shook his head. (Connect me to the ship, please?)

// Trying… connecting… //

A moment later, Cantha’s voice squawked from the collar-com: “Legroeder, this is Phoenix . We’ve been trying to reach you for hours. What’s wrong? Do you have a report?”