Sheffield, Charles - Heritage 1& 2 - Summertide - Transcend_1

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Convergent Series
Convergent Series
Books 1 and 2 of the Heritage Universe
(Book 1 is Summertide and Book 2 is Divergence)
Convergent Series
by Charles Sheffield
SUMMERTIDE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 
Chapter 8 
Chapter 9 
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
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Convergent Series
DIVERGENCE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26 
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Summertide
Book I of
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Convergent Series

The Heritage Universe

For Ann, Kit, Rose and Toria.

PROLOG

Expansion

1086 (3170 A.D.).

A ninety-seven-year silence was ending.

For close to a century the ship's interior had heard no human voice and felt no human footstep. The vessel

whispered its way between the stars, passengers close to absolute zero in dreamless paradeath. Once a

year their bodies warmed to liquid-nitrogen temperatures while shared experiences were fed to them from

the ship's central data bank: memories of a hundred years of interstellar travel, for bodies that would age

less than one day.

As the final weeks of deceleration began it was time to start the awakening. When the destination was

reached, decisions might be needed that went beyond machine judgment—a notion that to the ship's main

computer, the first of its kind to be equipped with the Karlan emotional circuits, was both insulting and

implausible.

First warming was initiated. Interior sensors picked up the reassuring flutter of returning heartbeats, the

initial sigh and murmur of working lungs. The emergency crew would be awakened first, two by two, on

a last-in, first-out basis; only with their approval would others begin emergence.

The first pair drifted up to consciousness with one question burning in their minds: Was it arrival—or was

it override?

The computer had been programmed to rouse them for only three reasons. They would be disturbed if the

ship were closing at last on their destination, Lacoste-32B, a minor G-2 dwarf star that lay three light-

years beyond the rose-red stellar beacon of Aldebaran. They would wake if an on-board problem had

arisen within the ship's half-kilometer ellipsoid, a disaster too big for the computer to handle without

human interaction.

Or, the final possibility, they would be pulled from hibernation if one of spacefaring humanity's oldest

dreams had become reality:

I/T—Immediate Transfer; Interstellar Transition; Instantaneous Travel; the superluminal transportation

system that would end Crawlspace exploration.

For more than a thousand years the exploration and colony ships had crept outward, widening the sphere

of Earth's influence. The millennium had yielded forty colonies, scattered through a Sol-centered globe

seventy light-years in diameter. But every inch within that sphere had been traveled at less than a fifth of

light-speed. And every colony, no matter how small and isolated, had a research program that sought the

superluminal . . .

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The first two wakened were one man and one woman. They fought a century-long lassitude, queried the

ship's internal status panels, and shared their relief. No on-board disaster had occured. The message center

held no urgent incoming file, no news of a great breakthrough. There would be no party of superluminal

travelers waiting to welcome late-arrival colonists at Lacoste.

Ahead of the ship the target star already showed a visible naked-eye disk. Gravitational perturbations of

the star had long predicted the presence of at least two orbiting giant planets. Now their existence could

be confirmed by direct observation, together with five smaller bodies closer to the primary.

The woman was recovering faster than the man. It was she who first left the Schindler hibernation unit,

stood up shakily in the one-tenth-gee field, and moved to stare at the external displays. She uttered a low

sound, a grunt of satisfaction from sluggish vocal cords, followed by an experimental clearing of her

throat.

"We made it! There it is."

And there it was. The molten-gold disk of Lacoste lay at the exact center of the forward screen. Two

minutes later the man had eased his way to her side, still wiping protective gel from his face. He touched

her arm in congratulations, relief, and love. They were life-partners.

"Time to waken the others."

"In a few minutes," she said. "Remember Kapteyn. Make sure we've got something."

The example of Kapteyn's Star was written in every explorer's memory: eight planets, all apparently with

wonderful potential; and all, on close inspection, useless for human habitation or for supplies. The early

colony ship that had arrived at Kapteyn had been too depleted to reach any second target.

"We're only two light-days out," she went on. "We can start scanning. Let's take a look for oxygen

atmospheres before we wake anyone else."

The on-board computer picked up her command and responded to it. One oxygen world, said its soft

voice. Life probability 0.92. The field of view zoomed and swung so that Lacoste first grew rapidly in

size and then disappeared from the top of the screen, while a new pinpoint of light appeared at the screen

center and swelled to fill it.

Fourth planet, the computer said. Overall figure of merit for Earth isomorphism, 0.86. Mean distance,

1.22; mean temperature range, 0.89 to 1.04; axial tilt—

"What the devil is that?"

The computer paused. The man's question had no meaning.

The screen held a planet at its center, a blue-gray sphere already seen in enough detail to reveal the broad

bands and swirls of atmospheric circulation patterns. But it also showed a web of hazy lines and bright

spirals surrounding the planet and cradling it in multiple strands of light.

"Somebody got here ahead of us . . ." The woman's voice faded before the sentence was completed. The

information network among inhabited planets was in continuous operation. It was limited to light-speed,

but even so she could not believe that some exploring ship had also been sent to Lacoste, unknown to

them. And if another ship had arrived here, the scale of what they were seeing went beyond anything that

an exploring colony might accomplish in a few years.

Or in a few centuries.

"Pan view."

The computer heard her words and adjusted the image. The planet shrank to pea size, a bright bead of

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Convergent Series

light at the middle of the screen. The surrounding nimbus of intensive in-space construction was revealed,

a gleaming nacreous setting within which the planet nestled like a pearl in an oyster. Slender tendrils of

construction stretched out endlessly, thinner and thinner, until they fell below the resolution of the

observing sensors.

"Not our kind, Tamara," the man said softly. "That's not us."

No human works, not even the ring cities that surrounded Earth itself, came close in size and complexity.

Some of the spiraling filaments around the planet had to be over four hundred thousand kilometers long

and many kilometers across. They should have been unstable to gravitational forces from the planet, to

tidal perturbations, and to their own interactions. And yet clearly they were not.

"Time to wake the others," Tamara said.

"And then?"

"And then . . ." She sighed. "And then, I don't know what. We finally did it, Damon. We found another

intelligent species. A technologically advanced one, too. But if they could build that"—she gestured at the

dazzling structure on the screen, and her voice became husky— "why didn't they find us? Well, I guess

we'll know the answer to that in a few more days."

Three weeks later the ship's pinnaces were roving the veins and arteries of the space artifact. For fifteen

days the main vessel had hovered five million kilometers away, waiting for and expecting contact from

the planet in response to radio and laser signals. They had been met with total silence. Finally they had

approached and begun direct exploration.

The misty filaments on the screen resolved themselves to the interlocking network of a colossal artifact.

They stretched down to the surface of the planet, an uninhabited world apparently well suited to human

colonization; but the tendrils also reached far out into space, for purposes that could not even be guessed

at.

And those purposes could not be found out from their creators. Like the planet, the artifact was

uninhabited.

Tamara and Damon Savalle found themselves cruising in their pinnace along one of the filaments, a metal-

and-polymer tube three kilometers wide and fifty thousand long. Maintenance machines crept along the

inner surface, moving so slowly that their motion was hardly perceptible. The machines ignored the little

pinnace completely.

Tamara was at the communications panel, in contact with the main ship. "They confirm our analyses of

meteorite pitting," she said. "At least ten million years old, uninhabited for more than three. And I don't

see anything to grin at."

"Sorry." Damon did not look it. "I was thinking of the old paradox from before Expansion. If there are

aliens, where are they? Twenty days ago we thought we had the answer: no aliens. Now we're asking it

all over again. Where are they, Tammy? Who built all this stuff? And where are the builders?"

She shrugged. Damon's question would remain unanswered for more than three thousand years.

But while they stared and marveled, a weak incoming signal was reaching the main ship from a small and

struggling colony on Eta Cassiopeiae A. It told of an intriguing new physical theory involving Bose-

Einstein statistics, along with a suggestion for a subtle and complex deep-space experiment far beyond the

limited resources of the little colony.

With everyone at Lacoste focused on the Builders, the new message received no attention at all.

But the Builders were long gone; and superluminal travel was on the way.

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ARTIFACT: COCOON

UAC#: 1

Galactic Coordinates: 26,223.489/14,599.029/+112.58

Name: Cocoon Star/planet association: Lacoste/Savalle

Bose Access Node: 99 Estimated age: 10.464 ± 0.41 Megayears

Exploration History: Cocoon holds a special place in human history, as the first artifact to

be discovered by human explorers, just as Cusp (see Entry 300) was the first to be

discovered by the Cecropian clade. Cocoon was found in E. 1086 by a Crawlspace colony

ship seeking habitable planets in the Lacoste system.

Physical Description: The form of Cocoon is a three-dimensional development of the

familiar ring cities in place around many inhabited worlds. However, it goes far beyond the

standard equatorial-plane assemblies, in both extent and presumed function. This artifact

employs forty-eight Basal Stalks connecting Cocoon to the equatorial planetary surface and

reaching up to the continuous ring structure at stationary altitude. Four hundred and thirty-

two thousand exterior filaments stretch five hundred thousand kilometers from the planet.

No two filaments are identical, but typical dimensions of the hollow cylindrical tubes are

from two to four kilometers, exterior radius. Viewed from many locations, the surface of

Savalle is completely obscured by Cocoon.

The corridors of Cocoon's interior are extensively patrolled by Phages (see Entry 1067).

Explorers must monitor continuously for their presence.

Physical Nature: Construction of Cocoon employs the standard superstrength polymers

used in most Builder artifacts. The absence of a second satellite for Savalle, even though

the fossil record clearly shows that double-satellite tides occurred until twelve million years

ago, suggests a now-vanished moon as the main source of Cocoon's construction materials.

Cocoon's filaments are held in stable position by a balance of gravity, rotating reference

frames, and stellar radiation pressure. No unfamiliar science is needed to explain that

stability, although the system design calls for the solution of large, discrete optimization

problems beyond the best computers available within the Clades. Elephant (see Entry 859)

was applied to the problem and reached a constrained solution (the so-called Cocoon

Restricted Problem) in four standard years of computation time.

Intended Purpose: There are few secrets to Cocoon, if we except the need for such a

massive system. The Basal Stalks permit materials to pass to and from the planetary surface

of Savalle at negligible cost; the Exterior Filaments allow economical payload transfer to

any point of the Lacoste stellar system, using the momentum-bank principle. The capacity

of Cocoon is enormous: one fifty-thousandth of the mass of Savalle could in principle be

transferred to space each year, enough to slow the planetary rotation rate appreciably and

change Savalle's day by two seconds.

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Convergent Series

—From the Lang Universal Artifact Catalog, Fourth Edition.

CHAPTER 1

Expansion

4135 (6219 A.D.).

Where am I?

A man who had seen fifty planets and succeeded in a hundred difficult jobs ought to be like a cat, turning

instinctively to land on his feet in any situation. But recently he seemed to be just the opposite, more

disoriented with every new task.

Hans Rebka came fully awake and lay with eyes closed, waiting for memory of place and function to seep

into his brain. As that came, confusion was replaced by anger.

A week earlier he had been in orbit around Paradox, preparing for one of the most challenging

assignments of his life. He and three companions were to enter the Paradox sphere, carrying with them

new shielding and a completely new type of recording sensor. If they succeeded they would bring back

for the first time information from the Paradox interior—perhaps new information about the Builders

themselves.

To Rebka, Paradox was the most enigmatic and intriguing of all Builder structures. The dark, spherical

bubble, fifty kilometers across, permitted ready entry but on exit removed all memories, organic or

inorganic. Computers emerged with no recording on any storage medium. Humans who had reached the

interior returned with the minds of newborn infants.

Exploration efforts had finally been abandoned; but lately visitors to the region of Paradox had been

reporting changes. The bubble was different in external appearance, and possibly in internal status. A new

effort might succeed.

It was a dangerous mission, but Hans Rebka had been looking forward to it. He had volunteered, and he

had been accepted as team leader.

And then the call had come, just one day before the descent into Paradox.

"An alternative assignment . . ." The voice was thin and whispering, reduced in frequency spectrum by its

passage through the Bose communications network. " . . . to the double-planet of Dobelle. You must leave

without delay . . ."

The space-thinned voice sounded in no way imperious, but the command emanated from the highest

government level of the Phemus Circle. And it was an assignment for Rebka alone; his companions

would proceed to explore Paradox. At first it sounded like an honor, a privilege that he should be singled

out in that way. But as the assignment was explained to him, Rebka's confusion began.

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He knew his talents. He was a doer and a fixer, and a damned good one. He could think on his feet and

improvise solutions in real-time to tough problems; he was a typical product of his home world, Teufel.

"What sins must a man commit, in how many past lives, to be born on Teufel?" Half the spiral arm knew

that saying. Like all the planets of the Phemus Circle, Teufel was resource-poor and metal-poor. Settled in

despair and dire necessity as the life-support systems of an early colony ship faltered and failed, it was

also an outcast planet, too hot, too small, and with a barely breathable atmosphere. The life expectancy of

a human who grew to maturity on Teufel—most did not—was less than half the average for the Phemus

Circle, and less than a third of that for an inhabitant of any world of the Fourth Alliance. All those born

and raised on Teufel found an instinct for self-preservation before they could talk—or they never lasted

long enough to talk.

Rebka was a slight, large-headed man with hands and feet too big for his body. He had the wan, slightly

deformed look of someone who had suffered persistent childhood malnutrition and trace-element

deficiency. But that early privation had affected his brains not at all. He had learned the odds early, when

at eight years old he had seen a set of images from the wealthy worlds of the Alliance bordering the

Phemus Circle. Strong anger was born within him. He learned to use it, to channel and control it to fuel

his progress, at the same time that he learned to hide his feelings with a smile. By the time he was twelve

years old he had worked his way off Teufel and was in a Phemus Circle government training program.

Rebka was proud of his record. Starting with less than nothing, he had risen steadily for twenty-five years.

He had run massive terraforming projects, taking the harshest and most inhospitable planetary bodies and

converting them to human paradises (someday he would do as much for Teufel); he had led dangerous

expeditions to the heart of the mirror-matter comet region, far from any chance of help if things went

wrong; he had flown so close to stellar surfaces that communications were impossible in the roar of

ambient radiation, and his returning ship was ablated and melted past hope of further use. And he had led

a crew on a near-legendary trip through the Zirkelloch, the toroidal space-time singularity that lay in the

disputed no-man's land between the worlds of the Fourth Alliance and those of the Cecropia Federation.

All that. And suddenly—at the thought, confusion was replaced by anger; anger was still his friend—he

was demoted. Stripped, without a word of explanation, of all real responsibilities and sent to a distant,

unimportant world to act as nursemaid or father-confessor for someone ten years his junior.

"Just who is Max Perry? Why is he important?"

He had asked that question during his first briefing, as soon as the planetary doublet of Dobelle became

more than a name to him. For Dobelle was an insignificant place. Its twin planetary components, Opal

and Quake, orbiting a second-class star far from the main centers of the local spiral arm, were almost as

poor as Teufel.

Scaldworld, Desolation, Teufel, Styx, Cauldron—sometimes it seemed to Rebka that poverty was their

only bond, the single link that held the Phemus Circle worlds together and separated them from their

richer neighbors. And from the records, Dobelle was a worthy member of the club.

The records on Perry were transmitted to him, too, to be scanned at his leisure. Typically, Hans Rebka

reviewed them at once. They made little sense. Max Perry had come from origins as humble as Rebka's

own. He was a refugee from Scaldworld, and like Rebka he had made his way rapidly upward, apparently

bound for a job at the very top of Circle government. As part of the general grooming process for future

leaders, he had been sent for a one-year tour of duty on Dobelle.

Seven years later he had still not returned. When promotions were offered, he refused them. When

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Convergent Series

pressures were exerted to encourage him to leave the Dobelle system, he ignored them.

"A large investment," whispered the distant voice beyond the stars. "We have trained him for many years.

We want to see that investment in him repaid . . . as you repaid it. Determine the cause of his difficulties.

Persuade him to return, or at least to tell us why he refuses to do so. He ignores a direct order. Opal and

Quake desperately need people, and Dobelle law prohibits extradition."

"He won't tell me anything. Why should he?"

"You will go to Dobelle as his supervisor. We have arranged for a senior position to be created within the

ruling oligarchy. You will occupy it. We agree that Perry will not reveal his motives as the result of a

simple inquiry. That has been tried. Use your own strengths. Use your subtlety. Use your initiative." The

voice paused. "Use your anger."

"I am not angry with Perry." Rebka asked more questions, but the answers offerd no enlightenment. The

assignment still made no sense. The central committee of the Phemus Circle could waste its resources if it

so chose, but it was a stupid mistake to waste Rebka's talents—he lacked false modesty—where a

psychiatrist seemed more likely to succeed. Or had that already been tried, and failed?

Hans Rebka swung his legs off the bunk and walked over to the window. He stared up. After a three-day

trip through five Bose Network nodes and a subluminal final stage, he had finally landed on the Starside

hemisphere of Opal. But Starside was a bad joke—even before dawn there was not a star to be seen. At

that time of year, close to Summertide, cloud breaks on Opal were rare. Approaching the planet, he had

seen nothing but a uniform, shining globe. The whole world was water, and when Dobelle swung in at its

closest to its stellar primary, Mandel, the summer tides reached their peak and the oceans of Opal never

saw the sun. Safety lay only on the Slings, natural floating rafts of earth and tangled vegetation that

moved across Opal's surface at the prompting of winds and tides.

The biggest Slings were hundreds of kilometers across. The Starside spaceport was situated on one of the

largest. Even so, Rebka wondered how it would fare at Summertide. Where would it go, and would it

survive when the main tides came?

If his birthworld of Teufel had been Fire, then Opal was surely Water.

And Quake, the other half of the Dobelle planetary doublet?

Hell, from what he had heard of it. Nothing that Rebka had read or had been told in his briefings had had

one good word to say about Quake. Events on Opal at Summertide were said to be spectacular and hair-

raising—but survivable. On Quake they were deadly.

He looked up at the sky again and was startled to see that it was light. Opal and Quake were tidally locked

to each other, and they spun around their common center of mass at a furious rate. One day in the Dobelle

system was only eight standard hours. His morning musings had taken him well past dawn. He would just

have time for a quick breakfast; then an aircar would carry him around the planet to Quakeside—and to

the most stupid and least productive job of his life.

Rebka swore, cursing the name of Max Perry, and walked across to the door. He had not yet met the man,

but he was ready to dislike him.

ARTIFACT: PARADOX

UAC#: 35

Galactic Coordinates: 27,312.443/15,917.902/+135.66

Name: Paradox Star/planet association: Darien/Kleindienst

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Bose Access Node: 139 Estimated age: 9.112 ± 0.11 Megayears

Exploration History: It is not known how many times Paradox was discovered, and all

knowledge of it then lost. What is known is that in E. 1379 Ruttledge, Kaminski, Parzen,

and Lu-lan organized a two-ship expedition to investigate the light-refraction anomaly now

known as Paradox.

Arriving first, Ruttledge and Kaminski recorded on their ship's main computer the intention

of entering the Paradox sphere using the exploration pinnace, while the main ship remained

well clear. Five days later, Parzen and Lu-lan arrived and found the other ship and its

pinnace, both in perfect working condition. Ruttledge and Kaminski were in the pinnace,

alive but suffering from dehydration and malnutrition. They were incapable of speech or

simple motor movement, and subsequent tests showed that their memories held no more

information than the mind of a newborn baby. The data banks and computer memory on the

pinnace were wiped clean.

Following a review of the other ship's records, Parzen and Lu-lan drew lots to decide who

would make a second trip inside the Paradox sphere. Lu-lan won and made the descent. No

signals were received from him by Parzen, although there had been prior agreement to send

a message every four hours. Lu-lan returned, physically unharmed, after three days. His

memory was empty of all learned information, though somatic (instinctive) knowledge was

unchanged.

Paradox was declared off-limits to all but trained investigators in E. 1557.

Physical Description: Paradox is a spherical region, fifty kilometers in diameter. Its outer

boundary displays "soap bubble" color shifts across the surface, reflecting or transmitting

different wavelength radiation apparently randomly.

The sphere is opaque in certain spectral regions (1.2-223 meters) and perfectly transparent

in others 5.6-366 micrometers). Nothing is known of the appearance of Paradox's interior.

Paradox's size and appearance are not invariant. Changes in size and color have been

reported nine times during its history.

Physical Nature: Based on transmission through it, Paradox is believed to have a complex

interior structure. However, no first-hand information has ever been obtained, because of

Paradox's information-destroying nature. Most analysts believe that Paradox is the four-

dimensional extrusion in space and time of a body of much higher dimension, perhaps the

twenty/three/seven knotted manifold of Ikro and H'miran.

Intended Purpose: Unknown. However, Scorpesi has conjectured that Paradox is a

"cleansing vat" for large Builder intelligent artifacts, such as Elephant (see Entry 859),

prior to reuse. Note, however, that this suggestion is inconsistent with the physical

dimensions (4,000 x 900 kilometers) of Elephant itself, unless such objects were subjected

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