The Gate to Futures Past Read Online Free PDF

There was a dimple to accommodate it; for comfort, he decided, not function. The tool resembled a torch. The Human waved it experimentally, the business end aimed away, pressing various combinations of the indentations. It warmed; no more than explained by the heat of his skin.
    â€œHmm.” He’d found this tool next to one very like a wrench or clamp, with nothing nearby to be held.
    Shouldn’t make assumptions. Still, the gap was the right size for the end of the torchlike tool.
    Morgan eased the two together.
    clickclick
    Startled, he looked for the source of the tiny sound. It came from a small object toward the end of the array, a plain cylinder that rattled in place,
clicking
until he pulled the pair of tools apart.
    His scans had pegged the age of the cylinder and its companion objects as older than what he took for tools. Older than the ship. Implying this room contained a treasure trove to make the syndicates of the Trade Pact wet themselves, or whatever they did, with greed.
    Hoveny tech. His, for now, and worth more than wealth.
    â€œInteresting.” Putting aside those tools, Morgan picked up the cylinder and gave it a little shake.
clickclick.
Fainter, but still clear. Broken? Maybe. He didn’t think so. A sensor, perhaps, or gauge.
    For what? Holding his breath, the Human gripped the cylinder in both hands and
concentrated,
letting his consciousness touch the M’hir.
    Nothing. And it no longer
clicked.
    Morgan refused to be disappointed. Hoveny tech was activated using the M’hir. As far as he’d been able to determine,
Sona
moved as any Trade Pact starship through subspace, the only difference being this ship drew its power from the M’hir. There were rooms connected to that other dimension.
    A connection made by the Clan, descendants of the Hoveny. By something inside them. Something Humans weren’t supposed to have, not being Clan.
    â€œSorry to disappoint.” Morgan drew on his inner Power and
pushed.
The cylinder disappeared from his hands, to reappear on his pack. Sending objects through the M’hir he’d mastered. Moved the
Fox
, hadn’t he?
    â€œI can do this.” Tech. Tangible. He’d figure it out.
    Before
Sona
’s ports opened on whatever world would be home. Before they learned the price of their freedom there.
    There was always a price.

Chapter 2
    I N TRADE PACT SPACE, we’d had our Prime Laws, set by the ruling Council of the Clan. They’d nothing to do with notions of justice held by other species, including Humans. Over my long life, I’d obeyed most, found some irrelevant, and broken, lately, more than a few.
    The Om’ray had their own, by the sound of them a mix of the disturbingly familiar guidelines the Maker had imposed on our memories—and so on those who’d first come to Cersi—and those related to the practicalities of life with alien neighbors.
    While we’d yet to sit down together and compare specifics, I expected all would agree to keep those laws meant to guard us from each other. Courtesies to permit the testing of Power without giving offense. Protocols to protect the unChosen and oversee the meeting of Chooser and potential Candidate, mutual safety as important as a successful Choice. Rules to limit the depth within another’s weaker mind to be touched, unless invited.
    Then there was the one about not ’porting into a room unannounced—
    Much as it pained me, flaunting that particular rule would offend the di Kessa’ats, and Morgan wanted them treated gently.
    I hadn’t been entirely fair in my description of Nyso. Yes, he’dbeen what my Human would call a brat, but as an unChosen, Nyso had shown a gift and love of music I’d nurtured. I’d started him with the keffleflute, delighted to see him quickly soar far beyond my skill to become a remarkable composer. That had been the start of the trouble. Most Clan only dabbled in the arts, more consumers