Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

“May I ask how you happened to have a forcefield around your house?” Legroeder said. “Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you.”

“You can ask.” McGinnis gestured toward a cluster of seats near a large stone fireplace. “Make yourselves comfortable while I fix something to drink.”

Legroeder sank into a seat near the fireplace. A crackling fire billowed up with a soft rush. Legroeder closed his eyes, forced himself to try to relax… to focus on the warmth of the fire, the smell of the wood smoke, the crackle of flames. His thoughts drifted inevitably to the weapons fire of attacking pirate ships, and missiles in the air—and he winced, opening his eyes. He twisted around in his chair.

Harriet had seated herself on a small sofa facing a broad wooden coffee table. Her compad was out. She beckoned to Legroeder, and he moved to the seat opposite her. When McGinnis returned, carrying a tray with three tall drinks, Harriet lowered her glasses on their chain. “Is there some way I could make a call from here? We need to order a replacement flyer, but my signal can’t seem to get past your forcefield.”

McGinnis rested the tray on the table. “Of course. I’ll see to it in a moment.” He passed out coasters and glasses. “I think you’ll like this. It’s an infusion made from the leaves of the nascacia tree.”

Legroeder held his glass up, peering through a reddish amber liquid and several ice cubes. He took a cautious sip, then another. The drink had a sharp tang, with a hint of sweetness. He nodded appreciatively.

McGinnis didn’t respond. He was standing with his eyes closed, concentrating. “Hmph,” he muttered, looking annoyed. Returning to the bar, he tapped at a control panel. “Try your transmission now,” he called.

Harriet touched her earring, then typed at the pad.

“Are you getting through?”

“I’m afraid not.”

McGinnis did some more fiddling, then returned to join them. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ve got my house system checking into it. It should let me know when it finds the problem.” He looked preoccupied as he took a seat at the end of the table. But rather than speaking of whatever was troubling him, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “All right, then—you’ve come a long way because you think I can help you. What is it you want? And why did someone want to shoot you out of the sky to keep you from getting it?”

Harriet cleared her throat. “What we want is information about an old rigger ship. As for why someone would kill us to keep us from talking to you… well, I was rather hoping you might be able to tell us .”

McGinnis inclined his head. “Really. What ship are you interested in?”

“If you’ve seen the news reports, you probably already know. The passenger liner Impris . The Flying Dutchman of Space.” Harriet paused, waiting for a reaction. McGinnis said nothing, but his eyes seemed to narrow. “Oddly enough,” Harriet continued, “we’ve found very little information about her in either the RiggerGuild library or the public library.”

“That is odd, isn’t it?” McGinnis said, in a gravelly tone that suggested he didn’t find it odd at all.

“But we heard—rumor, I guess you would have to say—that some of the original reports on the ship had been removed for safekeeping.” Harriet scrutinized McGinnis’s face. “Would you, by any chance, know anything about that?”

McGinnis’s eyes closed, and an expression of pain crossed his face, unmistakable even through the synthetic skin. For a few heartbeats, he seemed removed from their company, as if his thoughts were occupied far, far away. Legroeder watched him, wondering what inner struggle was going on in this man. And what did it have to do with them? He also wondered, suddenly, what augmentation McGinnis had beneath that synthetic skin. And was that augmentation one of the reasons McGinnis lived out here like a hermit?

When McGinnis’s eyes blinked open, he exhaled suddenly, as though a great tension had been released from his body. His voice sounded husky. “Why, may I ask, are you interested in this… ship?” His gaze shifted from one to the other, and came to rest on Legroeder. “You weren’t thinking of looking for her, or something…”

“As a matter of fact,” Legroeder answered softly, “I’ve already seen her.”

“You—” McGinnis said with a start, and then cut himself off. “Please continue.”

Legroeder nodded, feeling a band of tension in his forehead. “I’ve seen it. And I’ve heard lies about it. And I need to know the truth—to prove the truth. This has great personal importance to me. So if you—” He paused, realizing that McGinnis’s hand was trembling.

McGinnis placed his half-empty glass on the table and stared at it, as if it held answers to his questions. His gaze caught Legroeder’s. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“If you’ve seen the news reports, you must know—”

McGinnis shook his head. “ Tell me.”

Legroeder glanced at Harriet. What nerve had they struck here? Drawing a deep breath, he told McGinnis the story. The Impris sighting. The pirate attack. His years of captivity and servitude. His escape. And finally, his framing by the RiggerGuild inquest panel. Even in brief, it was a tortuous tale. When he finished, he sat back with a sigh, trying to push the reawakened memories back into their bottle.

McGinnis rotated his glass in his hands, contemplating. “Well.” He gazed up at the ceiling. “You’re right about my having information about Impris . Nobody’s looked at it in years. I probably have the closest thing there is to a complete record. As complete as there can be, considering that we never learned what happened to her. Except—” he paused, looking down “—you’ve just confirmed reports I’ve heard over the years, that she’s being used by present day pirates as a lure for unsuspecting ships.” He shot a piercing glance at Legroeder. “You might want to think about what that means, in terms of your being framed.”

Legroeder opened his mouth wordlessly.

Harriet spoke sharply. “Would you be willing to share the information you have with us?”

McGinnis pressed three fingertips to his forehead, scowling. “ Yes,” he hissed… but as though he were speaking to someone else.

“Mr. McGinnis? Are you all right?”

Pain flickered across the man’s face. “I’m… fine .”

Harriet exchanged alarmed glances with Legroeder. “Is there anything we should—?”

McGinnis blinked his eyes open. “ No . I’m fine now. Really.” He grimaced. “I don’t… know much more than you about the present state of Impris , I suspect. But if you’re interested in knowing the truth of her past… I’ll show you what I have.” He seemed to have difficulty getting the words out. He pressed his hands to the tabletop, as if steadying himself. His chin jutted, eyes challenging them. “Not many people are interested in the truth, you know.”

“The truth is what we’re here for,” said Harriet.

“Then I have what you need. The whole reason I’ve kept these documents here… is to keep the truth alive. Truths. Not just about one ship, but about a larger historical matter—” he paused, as though gathering strength “—that for over a hundred years has been nothing but a lie.”

Legroeder shook his head in confusion. “What—?”

“You came here to ask about a ship. But what you really need to know about is dishonor and betrayal between worlds —in wartime and in peace.” McGinnis’s voice hardened to a knife edge. “A betrayal that continues to this day—unrecognized, and written right into our history books.” He sighed. “The disappearance of Impris was one of a great many mysteries left at the end of the War of a Thousand Suns. Most of them remain unsolved, and forgotten. But for some—like Impris —answers were fabricated, and perpetuated, for reasons that have nothing to do with the facts. But there are real answers… if you want to know them.” He glared in the direction of the crackling fire, his black eyebrows knitted together. “If you want to read them for yourselves.”