This is a fan translation of The Missing Link (Недостаяющее звено) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the third book in a series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна), which is a spin-off from the author's Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака) six-book series.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.

Note: Footnotes are located at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 2

Transport GR-15/4044

The transport was enormous. The primary module was eight hundred meters in length, equipped with a contour drive and grav-engines for orbital maneuvers, and was attached to barges with shipping containers, tanks with water and liquefied gases, trusses with structures that were unafraid of vacuum, and a long tail of cryogenic cisterns, which held an entire zoo in deep cold and deathly silence, from worms, beetles, and butterflies to parrots, kangaroos, and mastodons. The majority of that cargo was meant for Bitter Berry, where there was nothing: no normal atmosphere, no potable water, and, of course, no animals. Trevelyan had once visited the planet, and he wanted to go back to that bleak place no more than Inferno.

Perhaps the heavy impression of the enormity was enhanced by the complete absence of a crew, living people, their voices and laughter, loud orders, arguments, the pounding of feet, the splashing of water in the pool and the voice of the third officer announcing a drill. Trevelyan typically traveled aboard passenger liners or Star Fleet ships, where even a small corvette, to say noting of frigates and heavy cruisers, had a community of some kind, especially individuals of the opposite sex. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, those with locks the color of spring greenery or sea waves — all of them were dear to Ivar Trevelyan. Especially at the moment, after spending almost a month in the company of Kni'lina aboard the Saikat Research Station. They were a difficult bunch, which had been confirmed by the tragic events of the final days, plus the Kni'lina, who were similar to humans in many respects, had parted with their hair back during their own Paleolithic. Then again, that race was beautiful, and the lack of luxurious locks on their females wouldn't have prevented Trevelyan from having some fun with one of them, or even two. But the romance was not meant to be, turning into a lowly detective story, with bloodshed, dead bodies, and grim secrets [Footnote 1].

Actually, Trevelyan was supposed to get a vacation after the recent missions to Osier and Saikat. He could have spent it on Gondwana, Ro'on, Sapphire, or any other resort planet, he could have traveled for pleasure, gone to Danwait or Tintakh, checked out the ancient castles of the Lo'ona Aeo, headed to the sector of the hospitable Teruxi, or stayed a few weeks in a luxurious hotel under the rings of Saturn. In any of these places, he would have had the opportunity to have some fun, he could have found partners for dancing and tennis, ancient card games and romantic walks in the moonlight, flirting, intelligent conversation, flights on gravplanes, and parties, which Ivar, being a sociable man, also partook in. But duty was more important than all those pleasant activities, and Shcherbakov, that cunning serpent tempter, knew how to remind one of that. After appearing on the Saikat Station as the new coordinator, listening to Trevelyan's report, and informing him of Yui Sato's request—request, not an order—he'd added something that struck Ivar's mind, soul, and heart.

Standing on the transport's bridge, under holographic screens displaying stars, he repeated Shcherbakov's words, "Gray Trumpeter has crossed the mountains." It was serious, very serious! Everything the Foundation was doing on Inferno was in peril, so there was no time for relaxation. He would set Ro'on and Gondwana aside, he would forget the blue sea, the warm sun, the games and the small talk, the carnivals and the beautiful ladies. He would set aside all those wonderful illusions for later and would accept the command of fate without argument or complaint. Inferno then! After all, there will be more than greedy Kyoll barons, shaggy merchants, unwashed native females, and nomadic cannibals there. There was also an entire Foundation mission, a dozen or more people! Men and women who would soon become his good friends, real people he'd be able to talk to and play with: cards, tennis, pool, and with some of them maybe even other kinds of games…

The ship was controlled by a computer and did not require a crew, but it was adapted for transporting living and intelligent beings. A long wide hallway began right behind the bridge on deck A, the uppermost of the sixteen; it was decorated with holographic landscapes and the portraits of every passenger that had ever stepped aboard GR-15/4044. On one side were personal quarters numbering in sixty or maybe even seventy, as the ship's internal space permitted various changes and transformations. On the other side, through a pointed arch, there was a wardroom, which also acted as a mess and a library, and beyond it was an oval pool. The wardroom was decorated in the style of an ancient castle hall: an large fireplace with flaming phantoms, the walls and the ceiling were made of rough-hewn stones, the massive furniture was made of real wood, there were bright colorful stained-glass windows, tapestries with ladies locked in towers and knights battling all manner of monsters and dragons. Ivar wasn't a fan of this heavy décor. He would've preferred something light, airy, in an oriental style, but decided not to change anything, since his trip wasn't a long one, and the large compartment with the pool and athletic equipment adjoining the wardroom promised a lot more entertainment. There was a round dance floor, a dispenser with any beverages and snacks, a zero-g area for fans of jumping and somersaulting, comfortable couches and chairs hidden in alcoves under a canopy of green ivy, a gaming deck, and copies of magnificent statues: Venus de' Medici, Diana of Versailles, and others of the kind. Looking at them caused Trevelyan to feel sublime thoughts of feminine beauty that had yet to be matched even in this age of bioplastics and genetic metamorphoses.

The transport had probably been designed to accommodate lone passengers, tormented by boredom and longing. The computer controlling it did not possess artificial intelligence; it seemed that it had no concerns besides stellar navigation and watching over the cargo. But he could talk to the portraits in the hallway, listen to their stories, and tell them his own. The images were made at the moment a person stepped aboard, while their stories got more interesting the longer a particular traveler's trip lasted. It seemed that the ship's computer was simply remembering its guests' conversations, mannerisms, and habits in order to create the illusions of their personalities. Naturally this required time. Trevelyan's own portrait, the last in the gallery, was not particularly talkative at the moment, saying the bare minimum of information about its prototype: Ivar Trevelyan, socioxenologist and observer-scout of the Foundation for the Development of Alien Cultures, recipient of the Medal of Honor, the Wreath of Courage, and the Headband of Glory, specialist in primitive humanoid societies. This was followed by his service record with a note that he was on his way from Saikat to Ravana, also known as Inferno.

There were at least three hundred portraits. Although not all of them turned out to be interesting to talk to; it seemed that their trip had been no longer than Trevelyan's own. Leon Deev, painter and creator of illusions, Dmitry Shi, retired officer, Obo Koichi, historian and specialist in nomadic cultures, with whom Trevelyan had plenty to talk about. But for his confidante Ivar chose a girl from Baal, an ancient human colony that had served as a Star Fleet base for a long time. The girl's name was Anna Kay, and her gentle bright face, fair locks, and thin graceful figure touched his heart. She was a good listener, encouraging the speaker with her gentle half-smile, a shadow appearing on her lips; she would occasionally ask something or interject a few words that were always relevant and made Trevelyan forget that he was talking to a machine. He knew very little about her: she was only nineteen, and her life had yet to experience any adversity or particular joy. She'd left from Baal to Danwait thirty-two years ago with a tour group of students from the Baalian Ancient History College.

Then again, he did have other companions besides the holograms of former passengers. Like many other Foundation emissaries, Trevelyan was accompanied by his ghostly Advisor, who had once been a real person and whose deeds earned him a rare reward: to be immortalized in a memory crystal. The crystal was tiny, about the size of a grain of rice, but it held the mind the memories of Trevelyan's distant ancestor Olaf Peter Carlos Trevelyan-Krasnogortsev, a Star Fleet marine and commodore, who had died five centuries ago. When he was alive, Grandpa, as Ivar called him, did many things, as he'd been born in a time of strife: the Void Wars [Footnote 2] and the battles with the Faata had not yet departed into the realm of history when new conflicts flared up, first with the Dromi, then with the Haptors, and finally with the Kni'lina [Footnote 3]. Commodore Trevelyan-Krasnogortsev had fought many starfaring races, burned on his ship and froze in the icy wasteland of space multiple times, commanded planetary assaults, had been wounded eight times and married four — to put it simply, he'd gained plenty of experience and become a hero. And he died as a hero as well, having fallen in battle at the age of ninety-two while in command of the cruiser Pallas. He died in the famous battle at Betelgeuse, when three human cruisers crushed a Dromi flotilla, proving to the aggressors and to the entire galaxy that a new powerful, warlike, and well-armed race had taken the stage.

The crystal with the Commodore's personality was typically implanted into Trevelyan's temple, but it was currently stored in his headband, which also included other personal equipment, including communication and recording devices. This did not interfere with his mental interactions with Grandpa, and the empathic contact was also quite strong, allowing the Commodore to make use of Trevelyan's hearing, visual, and olfactory senses.

His other companion was an artificial intelligence from the Saikat Station. That orbital settlement had been built by the Kni'lina, who'd also programmed the Brain controlling the station, but the Foundation was their equal partner on the project, reimbursing a portion of the expenses and the cost. Shcherbakov, the coordinator of the human expedition, brought a thinking device that was considered to be more reliable, at least at the FDAC Consulate. The Kni'lina did not object; then the former Brain was dismantled and given to Trevelyan at his personal request. Perhaps their alien colleagues were simply trying to get rid of it or thought that the gift would help compensate Ivar for all the trials and dangers he'd experienced while saving the Saikat Project and the Kni'lina good name. In any case, he ended up getting the Brain, and it was a valuable acquisition: its programming resource and reference base seemed to be truly inexhaustible. In order to provide mobility to his new acquisition, Trevelyan loaded it into the body of a trafor, a transforming robot he'd solicited from Shcherbakov. Considering their mission on Inferno, an intelligent trafor could come useful.

Ships flew fast through Limbo [Footnote 4], and they reached Highmore in only three jumps. The transport ship did not approach the planet, instead drifting at the outer edges of the system, and the spiderlike cargo robots got to work. They dragged crates full of clothes and food, juices and wines, crystal-books and mail, gifts for the natives and light folding furniture into the docking compartment and packed them into quadplanes. The cargo wasn't large, since there was plenty of air and water, raw materials and edible organics on Highmore. The biggest item that ended up in a quadplane hold was an inflatable raft two hundred meters in diameter; it came complete with four motorboats, two minisubs, and a prefab bungalow. A new oceanic base, Trevelyan thought and, after having his fill of the sight, left the compartment.

He strolled to the lift shaft, went up to the habitation deck, and peeked onto the bridge that didn't even have chairs for navigators and pilots, just a single one of the captain. At least they had screens suitable for the human eye, with Highmore's distant sun glowing on them as a green circle. The inhabited planet couldn't be seen from way out here, so Trevelyan commanded for telescopes to aim at it and put the picture up on the largest monitor. Sighing, he looked at the tiny round coin, called up the list of the Highmore mission, which turned out to have over a hundred people, looked for names he recognized, and found three classmates from the Academy, a biologist friend from Sella, and a girl he had dated once. This saddened him, and he went to see Anna Kay.

"We're in Highmore's system, my beauty," Trevelyan informed her, stopping in front of her portrait. "We're adrift two light hours from the local star."

A dour lady in the uniform of an ecological inspector was located next to Anna. She threw an indignant glare at Ivar and hissed, "Keep going to the young one, huh? Young people have nothing but air in their heads! Why not talk to someone of a more serious nature!"

Anna smiled sweetly. By tacit consent, they were ignoring the inspector lady, even though Trevelyan suspected that her fierce glares and hissing had the same source as the girl's smiles.

"Have you been here?" Anna asked.

"I have. Long ago. My second mission after Inferno. How old was I then?" He paused to think. "Probably twenty-six."

"A decent age!" Anna stated.

"From your point of view. After my internship on Inferno, I got my scout certification, I was very proud of it but didn't know how to do anything. Then again, interactions with Highmorites doesn't require a lot of skill… they're a friendly bunch…"

Anna's eyes went wide.

"Highmore is inhabited? How interesting! Who lives there?"

"Warm-blooded viparious amphibians. It's a water world, my dear. Seven percent of dry land, and the rest is an ocean with depth reaching two kilometers. A shelf has underwater jungles, corals, mollusks, and fish of indescribable beauty. But most of them are poisonous."

She sighed.

"I'd really like to see that!"

"Yes, it's a rare and refreshing sight. As it says in the Book of the Beginning and the End, the ability to marvel at the wonder of life is what feeds the root of the soul."

"I've never heard of such a book."

"It's a creation of Yezdan the Gray-eyed, a Kni'lina prophet, their Quran and Bible… Basically a holy text, a well of all manner of wisdom. When I was at the Academy, I've had the occasion to read it."

They were silent for a moment. Then Anna asked, "Are we going to get close to the planet?"

"No, my dear. The robots are now loading two quadplanes… delicacies, mail, clothes, et cetera… They'll depart any minute now, while we will continue on our way to Bitter Berry."

"Quadplanes? What's that, Ivar?"

"She doesn't know!" the inspector cawed. "She doesn't know about the Book and the quadplanes! I told you her head is empty!"

It was just a game, a way to fight off loneliness. A machine, some part of the onboard computer or an autonomous unit of the ship's memory, was pretending to be Anna Kay, the stern inspector, the historian Obo Koichi, and all the other characters, while Trevelyan was pretending to believe it. Anna asked, he replied, smiled to her, and threw sideways glances at the neighboring portrait. It seemed that the inspector lady was jealous and wanted to flirt with him too.

"A quadplane is a planetary cargo boat," Ivar explained. "Two tubes connected in a cross, four grav-drives on the ends, and a passenger cabin in the middle. The vehicle looks clumsy, but it's sturdy, can land and take off even in the middle of a hurricane. We've got about three dozen of them on board."

"Never seen one," Anna said. Her portrait's background was blooming jasmine. There was a wind there, moving the branches with the white flowers and fluttering the girl's blonde hair.

The deck under Trevelyan's feet swayed slightly.

"The first one is away," he said and reached out a hand towards the inspector. "Ship, external view! This screen!"

The stern lady vanished. Her image was replaced by a view of the nearby space: a black velvety emptiness with stars dotting it, Highmore's distant sun, and a quadplane's navigation lights. The craft was accelerating and moving away from the ship quickly.

The floor shuddered again. A second craft, looking like a silver cross with a bulge in the middle, slipped out from the dock.

"That's it," Trevelyan said. "Now we're going to leave orbit, accelerate, and jump to Berry. It's best not to linger there. A grim planet!" He waved to Anna and stepped away from her portrait. "I'm going to go swim in the pool. Too bad you can't take a dip."

"Too bad," the girl agreed. "When will you come again?"

"Soon," Ivar promised, "soon."

He headed for the gym. The gazes of the former passengers of the transport watched him pass. Students, Anna's friends, Fleet officers in blue-and-silver uniforms, a group of Teruxi in colorful clothing, a fellow Foundation member (he'd once traveled to Pta), people from the Research Corps, several pleasant tanned women returning from Gondwana… Hundreds of eyes, hundreds of faces, hundreds of stories, some long and some very short… Someday, Trevelyan thought, some bored traveler would walk up to his image, strike up a conversation, and ask why he was heading to that godforsaken Inferno. And they'd hear a mysterious reply, "Because Gray Trumpeter has crossed the mountains."

She's a nice one, came the Commodore's mental voice. Shy, but she knows her worth.

"What do you mean?" Trevelyan asked aloud.

The girl you were talking to. They turn into excellent wives, lad. And it's about time for you to settle down.

"First of all, I'm not ready for such a big step, and second, where would I look for her? It's been thirty-two years since she was on the ship. She's a mature woman now, not a young girl…"

Good. My second wife Monica was fifty wen we met. A woman of that age knows what she wants, and, trust me, it's a big advantage. She wanted children and gave me three of them over three years. The Commodore fell silent, diving into his memories, then he added, By the way, you're descended from Sergei, Monica's oldest.

Ivar grinned and adjusted his headband.

"I believe you've claimed that my ancestor was Pavel, your son from your first marriage."

Really? It's possible… Sometimes I get lost in my progeny… seven sons, eight daughters, whom I have seen only in-between battles… It's difficult to even remember their names.

Trevelyan snorted disapprovingly and stepped into the gym. Here, past the dance floor, between the statues of Diana of Versailles and Hera Borghese towered a cone with a mirrored surface, an impressive geometric figure the size of a planetary ATV. The trafor's body, which held the Brain from the Saikat Station, could, however, taken on other forms and even more pretty nimbly when the need arose.

At the sight of Trevelyan, the robot extended a rod with a speaker and rumbled, "Rrza teji aghata, orrt taji Hindag."

The sounds of the barking guttural language of the nomads broke the silence. It was a saying of the northerners, a piece of folk wisdom from a culture that roamed the vast arid plains: however far a man was, he was always close to god. Like humans in the past, the natives of Inferno had many languages, dialects, and jargons, and Trevelyan's mind, even with the help of hypnotic suggestions, couldn't contain all abundance of the local linguistics. But this wasn't a problem for the Brain.

"Excellent pronunciation," Ivar noted, touching the cone's smooth surface. "Keep it up."

Then he threw off his clothes and entered the pool. He wouldn't be able to do that on Inferno, he thought. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. A dusty plain appeared before his mind's eye; there were deserts covered in gravel and red sand, barren mountains, smoke billowing from hundreds of volcanoes, lava flows, and the furious suns, Asura and Rakshasa, climbing to the zenith, flooding the land with unbearable heat. Shuddering, Trevelyan submerged into the cool water, as if it could protect him from these grim and unpleasant images. The Commodore shifted in his mind, grunted, That's some planet! Such a filthy hole, by God!, and fell silent. It seemed that he had nothing more to say about Inferno.

After swimming for a quarter of an hour, Ivar climbed out, stood in the pleasant warm streams of an artificial wind, put on his jumpsuit, and decided to do some work. The three weeks of his trip wasn't enough for anything serious; so all he was planning on doing was refreshing the languages of Inferno in his mind, skim through the geographic description of the planet, and brush up on the esteps the Foundation had been able to implement over the past two decades.

"Xenological Compendium, section 'Ravana'," Trevelyan commanded, sitting down on a chair.

"Yes, Emissary," the Brain replied, activating the projection. He used to call Trevelyan "nyuri" (this honorific was used towards upper-class Kni'lina), but the onboard computer, programmed to follow human customs, addressed Ivar by his job title. Soon the Brain realized that the previous title was obsolete and also switched to "Emissary". It had very good situational awareness logic.

The holographic projector hummed quietly, and two stars appeared on the darkened dome of the room: a dim red one, hanging in the artificial sky like a patina-covered copper shield, and a blinding white one. He could look at the red one without squinting, but the rays of the white star, even though it was small, pricked his eyes. Trevelyan covered them with his hand. The suns moved away, followed by the spheroids of the inner planets, lifeless, scorching, lacking in any water or atmosphere; then a world that wasn't quite so hot became visible, where among the umber- and ocher-colored continents he could make out the blue-green spots of seas and a fanciful pattern of twisting straights. As always when descending from space, this surface turned into a bowl, crossed by the mountain ridge; some of its peaks pierced the hot yellow sky, while dark clouds and the crimson glint of lava shone through over others.

Trevelyan grimaced at the sight of the mountains.

"Remove these damned landscapes! I don't need visual information… I keep shuddering every time I think about it… Give me the text!"

"As you wish, Emissary."

The giant ridge vanished, replaced by lines of text, maps, and tables.

"Inferno (Ravana) is the fourth planet of the NG-0455/56881 binary star system (red giant Asura, white dwarf Rakshasa, see Appendix 1 for spectral data). Located near the Void, one hundred and forty-four parsecs from Gamma Malleus (the human colonies T'har and Ro'on), in the direction of the south galactic pole.

General description: An earthlike world discovered by the Sokolsky-Shenandi expedition in 2892 (Martian University). The stars, continents, and some seas have been named using Hindu mythology (at Shenandi's insistence), but the majority of names are of local origin. The official designation Ravana soon gave way to Inferno, as one more appropriate to the planet's environment.

The land surface is subdivided into five inhabited continents: the largest and central is Hira or Hiranyakashipu (latitudinal extent: 13,800 km, meridional extent: 11,280 km), and the smaller Vritra, Shambara, Rahu, and Namuci (sizes vary from 4400 to 9550 km across). Accounting for a multitude of islands, dry land takes up 63% of the planetary surface, the World Ocean is represented by relatively small inland seas, some of which are connected by straights. Due to a lack of moisture and the absence of permanent rivers, the planet is fairly arid, the climate is hot, and the equatorial zones are uninhabitable (with temperature in excess of 60⁰C). With the exception of rare oases, the terrain is for the most part characteristic of deserts, semi-deserts, and steppes. There is notable volcanic activity. Flora and fauna are sparse, almost all animal and plant species have been domesticated (see the zoological and botanical listings).

The planet is populated by humanoids of several races (the exact number is unknown), whose level of development corresponds to Early Middle Ages. The people of Kyoll (the Oasis People) engage in agriculture, the nomadic northern tribes of Hira breed cattle, the clans of the coastal cities build ships and trade, while the remaining communities of Vritra and Rahu smelt metals (copper, tin, lead, gold, silver) and engage in blacksmithing, pottery, and other crafts. The lack of habitable land and the deficit of water result in frequent conflicts between the various tribes and cultures; the population is aggressive, distrustful, and unfriendly. Languages: see Appendix 2, "Linguistic Overview". Religions: see Appendix 3, "Inferno Mythology".

Since 2901 Inferno (Ravana) has been added to the Earth Federation's sector of influence. It is under the patronage of the Foundation for the Development of Alien Cultures.

Period of revolution: 28.37 standard hours.

Orbital period around the dominant star (Asura): 748 days.

Moon: Gandharva.

Gravity: 1.3g.

The atmosphere is breathable up to the altitude of 7000 m."

"Breathable in some places," Trevelyan noted grimly. "As long as there aren't any volcanoes, sulfur geysers, fresh lava fields, or any other nastiness nearby."

The trafor produced a mournful chime.

"My body will suffer from corrosion in an environment saturated with sulfur vapor and volcanic ash. We need to do something, Emissary."

"Don't worry about your skin," Ivar said. "You're a reference machine, so you'll be staying at the base. Shenandi Peak, sixteen kilometers above sea level and the most sterile conditions possible. There isn't even any air up there."

"Humanoids are unable to function without air."

"Exactly. That's why no one is going to bother us there, no nomadic cannibals, no robber barons, no cunning merchants. We'll be surrounded by snow and ice, cold and death, while under the shield dome we'll have breathable atmosphere, three houses, a garden, peace and quiet… It's too bad we'll have to come down! Below isn't nearly as nice. To tell you the truth, it's a repulsive planet, and its people aren't much better."

"Don't come down," the Brain suggested. "You are the mission coordinator, and your job is to lead."

Trevelyan closed his eyes. Heavenly landscapes of Gondwana appeared in his mind's eye: a warm blue sea, beaches with golden sand, juicy greenery of magnolias and palm trees, crystal palaces along the endless coast, tanned girls dancing in town squares, gentle outlines of forest-covered mountains… It was all so peaceful, so beautiful! So unlike the scorching deserts of Inferno, its meager oases, miserable farms, ridiculous castles, and the predatory inhabitants of those places!

Sighing, he muttered, "Coordinator… Leader… Hah! A hammer for every nail, that's who I am!"

For an imperceptible moment, the deck rose under his feet, the world shattered into a myriad pieces, vanished, and then once more floated out from a dark gloomy oblivion. Transport GR-15/4044 had made its first jump to Bitter Berry's system.

The star was generous here, a G-type star with a noticeable golden hue, hotter and brighter than Earth's Sun. According to the videos in the FDAC archive, sunrises and sunsets on Berry had once looked like an extravaganza of light and color, especially over the oceans, where the gold and the pink melded with the blue. But now the remains of the atmosphere did not allow one to observe such a spectacle, and only deep depressions in the planetary crust were left from the oceans. At the current period of its geological history, Bitter Berry looked a little like Mars, the way it had been prior to being settled by humans.

But there were projects for terraforming the planet, restoring its atmosphere, aquatic environment, and soil fertility with the subsequent reanimation of life forms from bacteria, plankton, and insects to higher-order animals. A sizable team of specialists from Earth was working on this, and the majority of the cargo in the transport ship was meant for them. Just like in Highmore's system, the ship was adrift several light hours from the star, five quadplanes floated out from the open bays, and robots began to undock the barges with the equipment, tanks, and cryogenic cisterns. Then they were gathered in long chains for towing into Bitter Berry's orbit, and the operation was likely going to take an entire day. Ivar spent that day working, familiarizing himself with the reports of the regularly changing Ravanian missions and wondering how the wild northerners had managed to break through into the foothills of the Celestial Ridge. The reports spoke of a dozen esteps that had been successfully implemented in Kyoll and the port cities, of the fact that the Bronze Age was gradually giving way to Iron, of nautical expeditions to the far south, and of new trade routes, partly maritime and partly land-based, that linked Vritra and Rahu with Hira, the central continent. It was useful information that complemented the experience Ivar had gained on Inferno twenty years ago as a trainee. But he was unable to come up with any theories about the crossing of the mountains, which were utterly impassable for the primitive nomadic tribes. Was it possible that Gray Trumpeter's people weren't as primitive as FDAC experts believed?

Growing weary of these fruitless reflections, he went to see Anna Kay's portrait.

"Yet another stage is behind us, my girl. We've reached Bitter Berry."

She furrowed her brow in thought.

"A strange name for a planet, Ivar. Is it a bad place? Worse than that Ravana you told me about?"

"Perhaps. But the name doesn't refer to the planet, it refers to something that happened here once. Berry wasn't bitter at all to its native inhabitants, it only became this way to us, the aliens from Earth. Our name, our fault…"

"You're speaking in riddles. Why?"

"I work for the Foundation, and we don't like to discuss such subjects, although we do remember Berry. Bitter Berry, Ruins, Collapsed Hope… We remember them as mistakes that must never be repeated… Long ago, before we knew about the Kinnison Threshold, we tried progressing these worlds, which ended in disasters: global wars and catastrophes." Ivar shook his head. "You see, our intentions were good, our technical resources were great, our efforts were insistent and selfless… we had everything, except for wisdom and caution."

"I'm remembering an ancient saying," Anna said. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"Exactly," Trevelyan agreed and asked, "Let's leave this subject, my dear. You're studying ancient history, right? Tell me, what are you going to do after graduating college? Stay on Baal? Teach, write books, go on expeditions?"

She shook her blonde head.

"I probably won't stay on Baal, Ivar. Baal has no ancient history, just like any other colony… This concept makes sense only on one world, Earth. More than likely, I'm going to go to Earth and study some mysterious ancient culture. Maybe the Libyans, or the Tangut, or the Quechua…"

"So you're on Earth now," Trevelyan said. "Eight billion people, hundreds of large cities, thousands of universities… Where would I look for you? True, there's the reference service, but what if you're no longer Anna Kay? Sometimes people change their names…"

Her eyes darkened.

"Would you really like to find me? Do you want to meet me again?"

"Let's say I do."

"I've probably changed… You're in my future, Ivar… How many years have passed?"

"Thirty-two. You're still young and beautiful… We're almost the same age."

"Flatterer!" Anna smiled. "I think if really want to, you'll find me; I have no intention of changing my name. If I'm studying Libyans, look for me in Tripoli or Cairo, and if it's the Tangut, then in Beijing or Khabarovsk."

"And if you're studying Native Americans?"

"Then in La Paz or Lima."

"See you soon, my dear," Trevelyan said. "Once I'm done getting things in order on Inferno, I'll head to Earth instead of Gondwana. What haven't I seen on that Gondwana? Palm trees, sand, and salt water? There's plenty of that stuff on Earth. If, say, you're studying Libyans, then you and I are going to go to the Tassili Sea. I haven't been there yet, but they say—"

A musical chime interrupted him. It was followed by the onboard computer's voice, "The unloading is complete, Emissary. The ship will continue to its next scheduled stop."

"Show me what we have left of our tail," Trevelyan commanded.

Anna vanished, and the ship's stern appeared in the frame surrounding her portrait. There was no longer a long train of barges, trusses, and cryogenic cisterns with a sleeping zoo, only half a dozen containers with water and liquefied air. It was the most voluminous cargo, meant for Inferno, for the base on Mount Shenandi that rose into the stratosphere. The rest—mail, clothing, foodstuffs, and equipment—was stored in the ship's holds, which were already three-quarters empty. Compared to the team working on Bitter Berry, the Ravanian mission was small.

Restoring the girl's portrait, Trevelyan blew her a kiss, said goodbye, and went to the Brain. He spent the next hour talking to the AI in the language of the nomads, full of roars and wheezes. By the end of the hour, his throat was aching.

It was assumed that the transport ship would get to Inferno from Bitter Berry in eight jumps. The majority of the route lay in the Void, but, of course, not deep in it, rather at the edges of the Orion Arm, where there were still a few stars and rogue planetoids. Not very many, though, only about one object per two hundred cubic parsecs.

The void stretched like a giant curved crescent between the Orion and Perseus arms of the galactic spiral. Its width was approximately thirteen thousand and three hundred light years, but no human, Kni'lina, Dromi, or Haptor ship had managed to get to the other side of this stream of darkness. It was, of course, possible with a contour drive, since the Bino Faata, a highly advanced humanoid race, had managed to cross it in their giant starships. They did that many times, attacking Earth, then its colonies at the edge of the Void, but fortune hadn't favored on them in those wars. The battles were bloody and persistent, the losses were monstrous, and the defeat of the Faata couldn't resurrect the millions who had died. Seven centuries had passed since they vanished, but the memory of their invasion was not yet covered in the ashes of oblivion, and the very name of the Faata instilled hatred and fear. Perhaps that was the reason humans were apprehensive about to the other galactic arm, plus their own arm had plenty of old arguments and conflicts of the sort that accompanied the rise and fall of star empires.

However, ignoring the Faata hiding beyond the Void, this part of space was convenient for navigation. Due to the lack of gravitating masses, jumps through Limbo could reach a dozen parsecs, which cut down the flight time by a factor of two or three. To start at Bitter Berry, enter the Void, cross a great distance, and then dive to the binary Asura-Rakshasa system… This route was optimal by all parameters but one: the view of the Void, whose dark ribbon cut through the scattering of stars, inevitably made one feel depressed. There was an alternative, though, to stay on the habitation deck and away from the bridge. That was what Trevelyan did.

After the third jump, the ship was moving in the Void, two parsecs from its edge. Of course, that threshold was entirely arbitrary and existed only on star charts; if one compared two parsecs with the width of the black abyss, the question of whether transport GR-15/4044 was located at the edge or inside the Void seemed ridiculous. But navigation, like all the other areas of knowledge, was built on models, and the Star Atlas with stellar coordinates was the most precise galactic model. At least that was the onboard computer's opinion; if it claimed that the ship was in the Void, then it was best not to argue.

After studying the reports of Ravanian missions in great detail and memorizing the important parts, Trevelyan practiced speaking the native languages. Out of the great variety of dialects on Inferno, he chose the three he knew from his first expedition: Shas-ga (the language of the nomads), the language of Kyoll, and the trade jargon used in the coastal cities. He knew them in principle, but proper pronunciation required a good voice, strong vocal chords, and lots of training. Finally his throat became good enough to handle all the roars, howls, wheezes, and gratings, so he decided to translate a heroic epic into Shas-ga, maybe The Song of Roland or a tale of Lancelot du Lac. He remembered that the nomads valued oral creativity, so a suitable story could save him from a spit and a cookpot, at least for a time.

He was busy with the translation, alternating between reciting verses out loud and making the Brain correct the semantics, when an alarm signal blared. It happened to suddenly that Ivan jumped to his feet, causing the chair to fall back. But the ringing continued for a short time and didn't sound like the wail of a siren in an emergency, so it didn't look like he needed to put on a spacesuit or run to the escape pods.

"We have picked up a request for emergency assistance," the onboard computer's voice came from the speakers. "New course plotted. Do you agree, Emissary?"

"Yes," Trevelyan muttered, "of course. Rendering aid in the Emptiness is sacred."

Not that his agreement was required, but the onboard computer was always polite to its passengers. Since the ancient times, navigational equipment on automated probes and transport ships had been programmed to prioritize distress signals over flight mission; after picking it up, the vessel went to aid any ship, regardless of whether it was human or alien. It was an absolute reflex in a computer that prompted it to perform a set of standard actions: head to the vicinity of the signal, contact the ship in distress, determine the damage, send out repair robots, and, if necessary, supply the crew with air, water, and supplies. If repairs were impossible, the ship would bring the living beings aboard, deliver them to an inhabited planet, and continue on its original course. Trevelyan understood perfectly well that the program would execute regardless of his wishes, even if Inferno burned down to ashes.

This delay is bad timing for us, the Commodore grunted. What sort of cretins are flying around in the Void? What could possibly happen to them? Are they out of beer? Or is their head flooded?

"We're about to find out," Trevelyan said. "Ship, decode the signal! Coordinates and everything else… who are they, where are they, and what happened… Report!"

A space SOS sent over long-range communications included not only coordinates but also the name of the race in distress, the nature of the emergency, and information about the state of the ship. The one rendering aid had to know the level of risk and where they might end up after jumping: an asteroid cluster, a gas nebula, the corona of a star about to go supernova, or in the vicinity of a hydrogen giant like Jupiter, with many moons and a turbulent atmosphere. In fact, the success of the operation depended on that, as it was at times difficult or even impossible; for example, in a warzone or near a black hole.

"The coordinates are OrA27.05.88," the computer said. "The distance is twenty-seven parsecs in the direction perpendicular to the Void axis. The course has been plotted. Two jumps to arrival."

Right in the Void, the ghostly Advisor commented. What the hell made them go there? Damn it! Is it…

He broke off, but the mental wave of a surprise hit Trevelyan. It seemed that this unknown ship was trying to cross the Void! It had almost managed it, assuming it was moving from the Perseus Arm and had crossed twelve thousand light years… But who could be flying from so far away? Except for the Bino Faata. And if that was the case, were they heralds of peace or war?

"What happened to them?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "Why aren't you saying that?"

"The request for assistance has been noted, but the circumstances of the emergency cannot be deciphered," the computer informed him. "The message uses the standard interstellar code, but it contains eighty-two percent of errors. Unfortunately, Emissary, it is not possible to restore the message in detail."

"How is that possible? The code is simple, and it's the foundation of communication for all known races!" In amazement, Trevelyan ran his fingers through his hair. Then his eyes darkened, a wrinkle appeared on his forehead, and he said quietly, "Or is that race not very known? Maybe an enemy that exists on the other side of the Void? The Bino Faata? Have you figured out who they are?"

He sighed with relief after hearing the answer, "It is not the Faata, Emissary. It is the Silmarri."

Footnotes

1) These events are described in the novel The Faraway Saikat.

2) The Void Wars were four conflicts with the humanoid Bino Faata that took place in the 22nd and 23rd centuries; their name reflects the fact that the battles were fought in the Void, an empty region of space that separated two branches of the galaxy: the Orion Arm, where Earth can be found, and the Perseus Arm, where the Faata star empire is located.

3) The Earth Federation fought the non-humanoid Dromi in the 24th and 25th centuries; the first armed clashes with the humanoid Haptors and Kni'lina took place during that time period. A major war with the Haptors took place in the 26th century, while the Kni'lina (specifically, the Ni Clan) attacked the Earth Federation at the threshold of the 27th and 28th centuries.

4) Limbo is a dimension of quantum noise and chaos that surrounds the universe. Ships equipped with a contour drive would have moved through Limbo nearly instantaneously, if not for the resistance of the quantum foam, the chaotic fluctuations of subquantum particles comprising matter and energy. The quantum foam resists attempts at combining two point in space.