The party was a good one, though the guy with only one arm was kind of weird. Liol knew he was staring, and loaded a mild protocol reminder into his neural nanonics. It was just that he’d never seen anything like that before. Didn’t seem to affect the guy’s balance out on the dance floor, and the girl he was with obviously didn’t mind. Or perhaps she enjoyed the novelty value. Knowing the girls in this habitat, that was a strong option. Come to that, maybe the missing arm was an obscure fashion statement. Not impossible.
Liol headed for the buffet table, picking his way through the crowd. Just about everyone smiled and said hello as they jostled together. He replied to most of them, their names familiar now without having to access a memory file. Plutocrat princes and princesses, with media celebrities jumbled in for variety. They tended to work hard during the day, expanding corporate empires, starting new dynasties, never taking their wealth for granted especially in these times. Tranquillity’s change of location was causing them unique problems in sustaining their traditional markets, but there were fabulous benefits to be had from being placed in the Confederation’s wealthiest star system. They’d set about exploiting that as ruthlessly and gleefully as only they could. But nights were given over to a single giant funtime: parties, restaurants, shows, clubs; Tranquillity boasted the best of them all in profusion.
He wasn’t even sure who his host was. The apartment was as expensively anonymous as all the others he’d been in over the last few days, a hospitality showcase. Everything selected by designers to demonstrate their talent and taste—bitched over by other designers. Just another party. No doubt he and Dominique would grace two or three more before the night was out. The social set he’d belonged to in Ayacucho had never been shy of a good time, and were wealthy enough to indulge themselves. But compared to this mob, they were jejune provincials.
They were fascinated that he was Joshua’s brother. Smiled indulgently when he told them he had his own business back in Ayacucho. But he could reveal little about Lady Mac ’s last flight. So conversation tended to dry up fast after that. He really didn’t know much about Confederation politics, or the money shifts in multistellar markets, or hot entertainment items (Jezzibella was Capone’s girl—oh, come on! ); and he certainly didn’t relish discussing the possessed, and how the crisis was developing.
He took a plate along the long table of canapйs, deliberately picking the more bizarre-looking items. Jupiter was rising across the window behind the table, so he munched and stared, as overwhelmed by the spectacle as any hick farmboy. Not quite the reaction of a sophisticated starship crewman-about-the-galaxy. The aspiration he’d cherished for himself since first hearing Lady Mac was supposedly his rightful inheritance. Now he’d flown in Lady Mac , actually getting to pilot her. He’d seen new star systems, even fought in an orbital war and (ironically implausible) saved the Confederation—or at least alleviated some of the Navy’s burden. After the pinnacle, there was always the journey back down again. He would never, ever be as good a pilot as Joshua. The manoeuvres his brother had flown during the Beezling encounter had made that quite obvious. And the Confederation wasn’t such a fun place to roam through any more. Neither was life, now the beyond waited.
A reflection in the window made him turn. Joshua and Ione were mingling among the guests. Talking with ease, laughing. A good-looking couple, Josh in a formal black jacket, her in a flowing green evening dress. He was about to go over when Joshua led Ione out onto the dance floor.
“Yoo hoo.” Dominique waved from across the room. People struggled to get out of the way as she cut a line straight for him. Liol was granted the knowledge of what it must be like for a planet to face an invading fleet. Her hand grasped his arm, and she rubbed her nose against his. “I missed you,” she murmured with silky reproach.
“I was hungry.”
“Me too.” The resentment snapped off, replaced with bountiful mischief. She plucked one of the canapйs from his plate and popped it straight into her mouth. “Eeek. Sungwort seaweed, and they coated it in coriander.”
“It was interesting,” he apologised meekly. She was as adorable as she was terrifying. By far the most beautiful girl in the room, Dominique favoured a more natural look than her contemporaries, a gypsy girl among the glossy mannequins. Her black evening gown was full-length, but that somehow didn’t stop it from displaying a huge quantity of strategic flesh. Her broad lips curved up into a delighted smile. She dabbed her finger on his nose. “I just love your innocence.” A quality of which he had very little left. Sex with Dominique was narcotic, ruining you with pleasure.
She held his gaze for a moment, face enraptured by devotion. He wanted to turn and flee. “Someone I’d like you to meet,” she said neutrally, as if divining his response. A finger beckoned. There was a slim girl standing behind her, completely blocked by Dominique’s broad, healthy physique. She had a prim Oriental face with hair several shades fairer than Dominique. “This is Neomone.”
“Hi,” Neomone darted forward and kissed him. Then swayed back, blushing, looking very pleased with herself.
“Hi.” He didn’t quite know what to make of her. She was in her late teens, wearing a slinky silk dress that revealed an almost androgynous figure, all ribcage and stringy muscle. Thrilled and nervous at the same time, she kept giving Dominique worshipful glances.
“Neomone is training to be a ballerina,” Dominique purred.
“I’ve never been to a ballet,” Liol admitted. “We’ve had troupes visit Ayacucho, but I didn’t think it would be quite me. Sorry.”
Neomone giggled. “Ballet is for everyone.”
“You should dance with him,” Dominique told her. “Let him see there’s nothing to be scared of from cultural йlitism.” She cocked an eye at Liol. “Neomone’s quite a fan of yours, you know.”
He grinned, slightly awkward. “Oh. Why’s that?”
“You flew in the Lady Mac ,” the girl said breathlessly. “Everyone knows Joshua was on a secret mission.”
“If you know, then it can’t be that secret, can it.”
“Told you he was a modest hero,” Dominique said. “In public, anyway.”
Liol managed to keep smiling valiantly. Maybe he had bragged a little. That was the nature of the starflight business. “You know how it is,” he shrugged.
Neomone’s giggles were unstoppable. “Not yet,” she said. “But I’m going to find out tonight.”
The beach glowed a pale silver under the light-tube’s lunar radiance. Joshua took his shoes off to walk along it, holding Ione’s hand. The sand was warm and soft, flowing over his toes like grainy liquid. Tiny fluorescent fish darted about just under the sea’s surface, as if a shower of pink and azure sparks were tumbling horizontally through the water. Somebody had made a row of small melted-looking mounds just above the shoreline, meandering away into the distance.
Ione signed contentedly, and leaned into him. “I know it’s silly, but I keep coming back. She loved playing on this beach. I suppose I’m expecting to find her here.”
“Jay?”
“Yes.” She paused. “And Haile. I hope she’s all right.”
“The Kiint say she is. They wouldn’t lie about that. Many things, but not the welfare of a child.”
“She must be so lonely.” Ione sat down with her back to one of the small dunes. She slid her silk scarf from her neck. “I don’t see why they won’t let us bring her back from Jobis. Starships are still going there.”
“Bloody mystics,” Joshua sat beside her. “Probably not in their horoscopes.”
“You’re starting to sound like dear old Parker Higgens.”
Joshua laughed. “I can’t believe that old duffer is coming with us. And Getchell as well.”
“They’re the best I’ve got.”
“Thanks for asking me to go. I need to be flying. I’m no good to anybody just sitting around.”
“Joshua.” She reached over to trace the stark line of his jaw bone. “I’m pregnant again. You’re the father.”
His mouth flopped open. She smiled, and kissed him gently. “Sorry. Bad timing. Again. I’m very good at that.”
“No,” he said with weak defiance. “No, that’s, er, not bad timing at all.”
“I thought you should know before you left.” Even in the twilight she could see the shock and wonder in his eyes. There was something absolutely gorgeous about him when he looked so vulnerable. It means he cares, I suppose. She touched his face again.
“Um. When?” he asked.
“Before you went to Norfolk. Remember?”
He grinned, almost shy. “We’ll never know the exact time then. There’s an awful lot to choose from.”
“If I had a choice, I think I’d make it the one in Adul Nopal’s apartment.”
“Oh Jesus, yes. The middle of his dinner party.” He flopped down onto the sand, and grinned up. “Yeah! That would be fitting.”
“And Joshua. It was very deliberate. I’m not in this state by accident.”
“Right. Thanks for consulting me. I mean, I thought we’d already established the next Lord of Ruin with Marcus.”
“Just say no.”
He put his hand round her head, and pulled her down, kissing her. “I think we’ve already confirmed I can’t.”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“No. Worried, maybe. More about the future than anything. But then the kid won’t have it any different to the rest of the human race when he dies. We can’t fear for that, or we’d be utterly paralysed. The Kiint found a solution, the Laymil, too—for all it’s inapplicable. We damn well can.”
“Thank you, Joshua.”
“I’d like to know why, though. I mean, we already have the next Lord of Ruin established.”
She closed her eyes, shutting out his gentle curiosity. “Because you’re perfect,” she whispered. “For me. Great body, good genes.”
“Little Miss Romantic.”
“And a wonderful lover.”
“Yeah, I know that bit. I carry the burden well, though.”
She laughed spryly, then she was crying helplessly.
“Hey. No.” He cradled her, hugging lightly. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry.” She wiped a hand across her eyes. “Joshua. Please. I don’t love you. I can’t love you.”
He flinched, but didn’t recoil. “I see.”
“Oh God damn it. Now I’ve gone and hurt you. And I didn’t want that. I never wanted that.”
“What the hell do you want, Ione? I don’t understand. Don’t tell me this was convenience, that I was the male easily to hand when you happened to make your mind up. You wanted my baby. And now you’ve told me about it. If you hate me so much, you wouldn’t have done that.”
“I don’t hate you.” She gripped him tighter. “I don’t.”
“Then what?” He made an effort not to shout. Every emotion in his head was freefalling. Thought was almost impossible, only instinct, blind response. “Jesus Christ, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
“Well what do you want out of this, Joshua? Do you want to be a part of this child’s life?”
“Yes! Jesus, how can you question that?”
“What part?”
“A father!”
“How will you be a father?”
“In the same way you’re a mother.”
She took both his hands in hers, quelling the trembling. He shook her loose angrily. “You can’t be,” she said. “I have an affinity bond with the baby. So does Tranquillity.”
“Jesus. I can get symbionts, I can be equal to you and this bloody habitat. Why are you trying to block me out of this?”
“Joshua. Listen to me. What would you do all day? Even if you were my consort, officially my husband. What would you do? You can’t run Tranquillity. That’s me, that’s what I do. And then it’ll be the job of our first child.”
“I don’t know, I’ll find something. I’m versatile.”
“There is nothing. There can never be anything for you in Tranquillity, not permanently. I keep telling you this, you are a starship captain. This is your port, not your home. If you stay here, you’ll become like your father.”
“Leave my father out of this.”
“No, Joshua, I won’t. He was the same as you, a great captain; and he stayed here in Tranquillity, he never flew after you were born. That’s what wrecked him.”
“Wrong.”
“I know he didn’t fly again.”
Joshua looked at her. For all his instinct, his experience, that beautiful face defeated him every time. What went on inside her head could never be known. “All right,” he said abruptly. “I’ll tell you. He had it all, and lost it. That’s why he never flew again. Staying here didn’t break his heart, it was broken before that.”
“Had what?”
“Everything. What all us owner captains fly for. The big strike, a flight that kills the banks. And I had it with Norfolk. I was this close, Ione, and loving it. That mayope exchange deal could have earned me hundreds of millions, I would have become one of the plutocrats that infest this bloody habitat. Then I would have been your equal. I would have had my empire to run, I could have bought a fleet of ships just like Parris Vasilkovsky. That’s what I’d do during the day. And we’d be able to get married, and none of this question about how worthy I am would ever arise.”
“It’s not about being worthy, Joshua. Don’t say that, don’t ever. You stopped the Alchemist from being used, for heaven’s sake. You think I look down on you for that? How could some dusty deskbound company president compare to what you are? Joshua, I am so proud of you it hurts. That’s why I wanted you as the baby’s father. Because there is nobody better, not just your genes or your intuition, there can be no heritage finer than yours. And if I thought for one second there was a single chance you would be happy staying here with me, as my husband, or my partner, or just fitting me in as one of your harem, then I would have Lady Mac flung into a recycling plant to stop you leaving. But you won’t be happy, you know that. And you’d end up blaming me, or yourself; or worse, the child, for keeping you here. I couldn’t stand that, knowing I was responsible for your misery. Joshua, you’re twenty-two, and untamed. And that’s beautiful, that’s how it should be, that’s your destiny as much as ruling Tranquillity is mine. Our lives have touched, and I thank God they have. We’ve both been rewarded with two children by it. But that’s all. That’s all we can ever be. Ships that pass in the night.”
Joshua searched round for the anger that had blazed so bright just a moment ago. But it had gone. There was mostly numbness, and a little shame. I ought to fight her, make her see I’m necessary. “I hate you for being right.”
“I wish I wasn’t,” she said tenderly. “I just hope you can forgive me for being so selfish. I suppose that’s my heritage; Saldanas always get their way, and to hell with the human fall out.”
“Do you want me to come back?”
Her shoulders slumped wearily. “Joshua, I’m going to drag you back. I’m not forbidding you anything, I’m not saying you can’t be a father. And if you want to stay in Tranquillity and make a go of it, then nobody will help and support that decision more than me. But I don’t believe it will work, I’m sorry, but I really don’t. It might for years, but eventually you’d look round and see how much you’d lost. And that would creep into our lives, and our child would grow up in an emotional war zone. I couldn’t stand that. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? You’re going to be the joy of your child’s life, he’s going to ache for when you visit and bring presents and stories. The times you’ll spend together will be magical. It’s you and I that cannot be inseparable, one of history’s great love affairs. That’s the convention of fatherhood you’ll be missing, nothing more.”
“Life never used to be this complicated.”
The sympathy she felt for him was close to a physical suffering. “I don’t suppose it was before I came along. Fate’s a real bitch, isn’t she.”
“Yeah.”
“Cheer up. You get joy without responsibility. The male dream.”
“Don’t.” He held up a warning finger. “Don’t make a joke of this. You’ve altered my life. Fair enough, encounters always result in some kind of change. That’s what makes life so wonderful, especially mine with the opportunities I have. You’re quite right about my wanderlust. But encounters are chance, natural. You did this quite deliberately. So just don’t try and make light of it.”
They sat with their backs resting on the dune for some time, saying nothing. Even Tranquillity was silent, sensing Ione’s reluctance to discuss what had been said.
Eventually they wound up leaning against each other. Joshua put his arm around her shoulder, and she started crying again. A sharing, if not of sorrow for what had been done, then reluctant acceptance. “Don’t leave me alone tonight,” Ione said.
“I will never understand you.”
Preparing to go to bed took on the quality of a religious ceremony. The bedroom’s window overlooking the underwater vista was opaqued, and the lights reduced to the smallest glimmer. All they could see was each other. They undressed and walked slowly down the steps into the deep spar hand in hand. Bathing was accomplished with scented sponges, graduating into erotic massage. Their lovemaking which followed was deliberately extreme, ranging from aching tenderness to a passion that bordered brutality. Each body responding perfectly to the demands of the other, an exploitation that only their complete familiarity with one another could achieve.
The one aspect they could never recapture was the emotional connection they’d experienced in the previous few days. This sex was a reversion to their very first time, fun, physically enjoyable, but essentially meaningless. Because they didn’t mean the same to each other. The attraction was almost as strong as before, but of the devotion there was little evidence. Joshua finally conceded she was right. They’d come full circle.
He wound up lying across the bed, cushions in disarray around him, and Ione sprawled over his chest. Her cheek stroked his pectoral muscles, rejoicing in the touch.
“I thought the Lords of Ruin sent their children off to be Adamists,” he said.
“Father’s and grandfather’s children became Adamists, yes. I’ve decided mine won’t. Not unless that’s what they decide they want to become, anyway. I want to bring them up properly, whatever that is.”
“How about that; a revolution from the top.”
“Every other part of our lives is changing. This particular little ripple won’t be noticed amid the storm. But having a family in whatever form will move me closer to my human heritage. The Lords of Ruin have been terribly isolated figures before.”
“Will you marry, then?”
“That really is stuck in your brain, isn’t it? I have no idea. If I meet someone special, and we both want to, and we’re in a position to, then of course I will. But I am going to have a great many lovers, and I’ll have even more friends; and the children will have their friends to play with in the parkland. Maybe even Haile will come back and join in the fun.”
“That sounds like the kind of neverland I’d want to grow up in. Question is now, will it ever happen? We have to survive this crisis first.”
“We will. There’s a solution out there somewhere. You said, and I agree.”
He ran his fingers along her spine, enjoying the happy sighs it incited. “Yeah. Well let’s see if this Tyrathcan God can offer any hints.”
“You’re really looking forward to the flight, aren’t you? I told you, this is what you are.” She snuggled up closer, one hand stroking his thigh. “What about you? Will you marry? I’m sure Sarha would be interested.”
“No!”
“Okay, strike Sarha. Oh, of course, there’s always that farm girl on Norfolk, you know . . . oh what’s her name, now?”
Joshua laughed, and rolled her over, pinning her arms above her head. “Her name, as you very well know, is Louise. And you’re still jealous, aren’t you?”
Ione stuck her tongue out at him. “No.”
“If I can’t hack it as a consort for you, I hardly think a life tilling the fields is going to enthral me.”
“True.” She lifted her head, and gave him a fast jocose kiss. He still didn’t let go of her arms. “Joshua?”
He groaned in dismay, and collapsed back onto the mattress beside her; which sent out slow waves to flip the cushions. “I hate that tone. I always hear it right before I wind up in deep shit.”
“I was only going to ask, what did happen to your father that last flight? Lady Mac got back here with a lot of fuselage heat damage and two jump nodes fused. That couldn’t be pirates, or a secret mission for the Emperor of Oshanko, or rescuing a lost ship from the Meridian fleet that was caught in a neutron star’s gravity well, or any of the other explanations you’ve come up with over the years.”
“Ye of little faith.”
She rolled onto her side, and propped her head on one hand. “So what was it?”
“Okay, if you must know. Dad found a xenoc shipwreck with technology inside that was worth a fortune; they had gravity generators, a direct mass energy converter, industrial scale molecular synthesis extruders. Amazing stuff, centuries in advance of Confederation science. He was rich, Ione. He and the crew could have altered the entire Confederation economy with those gadgets.”
“Why didn’t they?”
“The people who’d hired Lady Mac to prospect for gold asteroids turned out to be terrorists, and he had to escape down a timewarp in the centre of the xenoc wreck.”
Ione stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. Her hand slapped his shoulder. “God, you’re impossible.”
Joshua shifted round to give her a hurt look. “What?”
She put her arms round him and moulded her body contentedly to his, closing her eyes. “Don’t forget to tell that one to the children.”
Tranquillity observed Joshua’s expression sink to mild exasperation. Elaborate thought routines operating within the vast neural strata briefly examined the possibility that he was telling the truth, but in the end decided against.
Harkey’s Bar was having a modest resurgence in fortune. Relative to the absolute downtime endured during the quarantine when its space industry clientele were careful with their money, this was a positive boom. Not back up to precrisis levels yet; but the ships were returning to Tranquillity’s giant counter-rotating spaceport. Admittedly they were mundane inter-orbit vessels rather than starships, but nonetheless they brought new cargoes, and crews with heavy credit disks, and paid the service companies for maintenance and support. The masters of commerce and finance living in the starscraper penthouses were already making deals with the awesome Edenist industrial establishment in whose midst they had so fortuitously materialized. It wouldn’t be long before all the dormitoried starships were powered up and started travelling to Earth, and Saturn, and Mars, and the asteroid settlements. Best of all, the buzz was back among the tables and booths, industry gossip was hot and hectic. Such confidence did wonders for liberating anticipation and credit disks.
Sarha, Ashly, Dahybi, and Beaulieu had claimed their usual booth, as requested by Joshua who’d told them he wanted a meeting. They didn’t have any trouble, at quarter to nine in the morning there were only a dozen other people in the place. Dahybi sniffed at his coffee after the waitress had departed. Even their skirts were longer at this time of day. “It’s not natural, drinking coffee in here.”
“This time isn’t natural,” Ashly complained. He poured some milk into his cup, and added the tea. Sarha tsked at him; she always mixed it the other way round.
“Are we flying?” Dahybi asked.
“Looks like it,” Beaulieu said. “The captain authorized the service engineering crew to remove the hull plates over Lady Mac ’s damaged node. The only reason to do that is to replace it.”
“Not cheap,” Ashly muttered. He stirred his tea thoughtfully.
Joshua pulled the spare seat out and sat down. “Who’s not cheap?” he asked briskly.
“Replacement nodes,” Sarha said.
“Oh, them.” Joshua stuck up a finger, and a waitress popped up at his side. “Tea, croissants, and orange juice,” he ordered. She gave him a friendly smile, and hurried off. Dahybi frowned. Her skirt was short.
“I’m flying Lady Mac tomorrow,” Joshua told them. “Just as soon as the Oenone returns from the O’Neill Halo with my new nodes.”
“Does the First Admiral know?” Sarha inquired lightly.
“No, but Consensus does. This is not a cargo flight, we’ll be leaving with Admiral Saldana’s squadron.”
“We?”
“Yes. That’s why you’re here. I’m not going to press gang you this time. You get consulted. I can promise a long and very interesting trip. Which means I need a good crew.”
“I’m in, Captain,” Beaulieu said quickly.
Dahybi sipped some coffee and grinned. “Yes.”
Joshua looked at Sarha and Ashly. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the Tyrathca Sleeping God, so we can ask it how to solve the possession crisis. Ione and the Consensus believe it’s on the other side of the Orion nebula.”
Sarha deliberately looked away, studying Ashly’s face. The pilot was lost in stupefaction. Joshua’s simple words were the perfect bewitchment for a man who’d given up normal life to witness as much of eternity as he could. And Joshua knew that, Sarha thought. “Monkey and a banana,” she muttered. “All right, Joshua, of course we’re with you.” Ashly nodded dumbly.
“Thanks,” Joshua told them all. “I appreciate it.”
“Who’s handling fusion?” Dahybi asked.
“Ah,” Joshua produced an uncomfortable expression. “The not-so-good news is that our friend Dr Alkad Mzu is coming with us.” They started to protest. “Among others,” he said loudly. “We’re carrying quite a few specialists with us this trip. She’s the official exotic physics expert.”
“Exotic physics?” Sarha sounded amused.
“Nobody knows what this God thing actually is, so we’re covering all the disciplines. It won’t be like the Alchemist mission. We’re not on our own this time.”
“Okay, but who do you want as fusion officer?” Dahybi repeated.
“Well . . . Mzu’s specialist field at the Laymil project was fusion systems. I could ask her. I didn’t know how you’d all feel about that.”
“Badly,” Beaulieu said. Joshua blinked. He’d never heard the cosmonik express a definite opinion before, not about people.
“Joshua,” Sarha said firmly. “Just go and ask Liol, all right? If he says no, fine, we’ll get someone else. If he says yes, it’ll be with the understanding that you’re the captain. And you know he’s up to the job. He deserves the chance, and I don’t just mean to crew.”
Joshua looked round the other three, receiving their encouragement. “Suppose there’s no harm in asking,” he admitted.
The crews were starting to refer to themselves as the Deathkiss squadron. On several occasions the phrase had almost slipped from Rear-Admiral Meredith Saldana’s own mouth as well. Discipline had kept it from being spoken, rather than neural nanonic prohibitions, but he sympathised with his personnel.
The sol-system news companies were hailing Tranquillity’s appearance in Jupiter orbit as a huge victory over the possessed, and Capone in particular. Meredith didn’t see it quite that way. It was the second time the squadron had gone up against the possessed, and the second time they’d been forced to retreat. This time they owed their lives entirely to luck . . . and his own rebel ancestor’s foresight. He wasn’t entirely sure if the universe was being ironic or contemptuous towards him. The only certainty in his life these days was the squadron’s morale, which was close to nonexistent. His day cabin’s processor datavised an admission request, which he granted. Commander Kroeber and Lieutenant Rhoecus air swam through the open hatch. They secured their feet on a stikpad and saluted.
“At ease,” Meredith told them. “What have you got for me?”
“Our assignment orders, sir,” Rhoecus said. “They’re from the Jovian Consensus.”
Meredith gave Commander Kroeber a brief glance. They’d been waiting for new orders from the 2nd Fleet headquarters in the O’Neill Halo. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, it’s a secure operation. CNIS has located an antimatter production station, they asked Jupiter to eliminate it.”
“Could have been worse,” Meredith said. For all it was rare, an assault on an antimatter station was a standard procedure. A straightforward mission like this was just what the crews needed to restore confidence in themselves. Then he noticed the reservation in Rhoecus’s expression. “Continue.”
“A supplementary order has been added by the Jovian Security sub-Consensus. The station is to be captured intact.”
Meredith hardened his expression, knowing Consensus would be observing his disapproval through Rhoecus’s eyes. “I really do hope that you’re not going to suggest we start arming ourselves with that abomination. ”
If anything, Rhoecus seemed rather relieved. “No, sir, absolutely not.”
“Then what are we capturing it for?”
“Sir, it’s to be used for fuelling the Lady Macbeth ’s antimatter drive unit. Consensus is sending a pair of ships beyond the Orion nebula.”
The statement was so extraordinary Meredith initially didn’t know what to make of it. Though that ship’s name . . . Oh yes, of course, Lagrange Calvert; and there was also the matter of a ludicrously ballsy manoeuvre through Lalonde’s upper atmosphere. “Why?” he asked mildly.
“It’s a contact mission with the non-Confederation Tyrathca. We believe they may have information relevant to possession.”
Meredith knew he was being judged by Consensus. An Adamist—a Saldana—being asked by Edenists to break the very law the Confederation was formed to enforce. At the least I should query 2nd Fleet headquarters. But in the end it comes down to trust. Consensus would never initiate such a mission without a good reason. “We live in interesting times, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir; unfortunately, we do.”
“Then let’s hope we outlive them. Very well. Commander Kroeber, squadron to stand by for assault duties.”
“Consensus has designated fifteen voidhawks to join us, sir,” Rhoecus said. “Weapons loading for the frigates has been given full priority.”
“When do we leave?”
“The Lady Macbeth is undergoing some essential maintenance. She should be ready to join the squadron in another twelve hours.”
“I hope this Lagrange Calvert character can stay in formation,” Meredith said.
“Consensus has every confidence in Captain Calvert, sir.”
The two of them sat at a table by the window in Harkey’s Bar. Glittering stars chased a shallow arc behind them as their drinks were delivered. Two slender crystal flutes of Norfolk Tears. The waitress thought that wonderfully romantic. They were both captains, he in crumpled overalls but still with the silver star on his shoulder, she in an immaculate Edenist blue satin ship-tunic. A handsome couple.
Syrinx picked her glass up and smiled. “We really shouldn’t be drinking. We’re flying in seven hours.”
“Absolutely,” Joshua agreed. He touched his glass to hers. “Cheers.” They both sipped, relishing the drink’s delectable impact.
“Norfolk was such a lovely world,” Syrinx said. “I was planning on going back next midsummer.”
“Me too. I’d got this amazing deal lined up. And . . . there was a girl.”
She took another sip. “Now there’s a surprise.”
“You’ve changed. Not so uptight.”
“And you’re not so irresponsible.”
“Here’s to the sustainable middle ground.” They touched glasses again.
“How’s the refit coming on?” Syrinx asked.
“On schedule so far. We’ve got the new reaction mass tanks installed in Lady Mac ’s cargo holds. I left the engineering team plumbing them in. Dahybi is running integration protocols through the new node; there’s some kind of software disparity with the rest of them. But then there always is a problem with new units, the manufacturers can never resist trying to improve something that works perfectly well already. He’ll have it debugged ready for departure time.”
“Sounds like you have a good crew.”
“The best. How’s Oenone ?”
“Fine. The supplement fusion generators are standard items. We already had the attachment points for them in the cargo cradles.”
“Looks like we’re running out of excuses, then.”
“Yeah. But I bet the view from that side of the nebula is quite something.”
“It will be.” He hesitated for a moment. “Are you all right?”
Syrinx studied him over the top of the flute; her ability to read Adamist emotions was quite adroit these days, so she considered. His genuine concern gladdened her. “I am now. Bit of a basket case for a while, after Pernik, but the doctors and my friends helped put me back together again.”
“Good friends.”
“The best.”
“So why this flight?”
“Mainly Oenone and I are flying because we think this is how we can contribute best. If that sounds superior, I apologise, but it’s what I feel.”
“It’s the only reason I’m here. You know, you and I are pretty unique. There’s not many of us who’ve come face to face with the possessed and survived. That does tend to focus the mind somewhat.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I’ve never been so scared before. Death is always so difficult for us. Most people just ignore it. Then when you start to see your last days drifting away you content yourself that you’ve had a good life, that it hasn’t been for nothing. And, hey, there might be an afterlife after all, which is good because deep down you’ve convinced yourself you did your best, so the plus column is always going to be in the black when it comes to Judgement day. Only there isn’t a Judgement day, the universe doesn’t care.”
“Laton worked it out; that’s what gets me. I’ve retrieved that last message of his time and again, and he really believed Edenists won’t be trapped in the beyond. Not even one in a billion of us, he said. Why, Joshua? We’re not that different, not really.”
“What does Consensus think?”
“There’s no opinion yet. We’re trying to ascertain the general nature of the possessed, and compare it to our own psychological profile. Laton said that would provide us with an insight. The Mortonridge Liberation ought to generate a great deal of raw data.”
“I’m not sure how helpful that’ll be. Every era has a different outlook. What’s thoroughly normal behaviour for a Seventeenth Century potter is going to be utterly different from you. I always think Ashly’s ridiculously old fashioned on some things; he’s horrified by the way kids today can access stim programs.”
“So am I.”
“But you can’t restrict access, not in a universal data culture like ours. You have to educate society about what’s acceptable and what isn’t. A little adolescent experimentation isn’t harmful, in moderation. We have to concentrate on pushing the moderation aspect, help people come to terms with what’s out there. The alternative is censorship, which the communication nets will defeat every time.”
“That’s defeatism. I’m not saying people shouldn’t be educated about the problems of stim programs; but if you made the effort, Adamist culture could abolish them.”
“Knowledge can’t be destroyed, it has to be absorbed and accommodated.” He glanced dolefully out at Jupiter. “As I tried to argue with the First Admiral. He wasn’t terribly impressed, either.”
“I’m not surprised. The fact we’re going to use antimatter on this flight is restricted information. Rightly so.”
“That’s different—” Joshua began, then grunted. “Looks like I’m not going to make it past the beyond. Don’t think like an Edenist.”
“No, that’s not right. This is just a difference in beliefs. We both agree stim addiction is a dreadful blight, we just differ on how to treat it. We still think the same way. I don’t understand this! Damnit!”
“Let’s hope the Sleeping God can show us the difference.” He gave her a tentative look. “Can I ask a personal question?”
She rubbed the tip of her index finger round the rim of the flute, then sucked on it. “Joshua Calvert, I have a devoted lover, thank you.”
“Er, actually, I was wondering if you had any children.”
“Oh,” she said, and promptly blushed. “No, I don’t. Not yet anyway. My sister Pomona has three; it makes me wonder what I’ve been doing with my time.”
“When you do have children, how do you raise them? Voidhawk captains, I mean. You don’t have them on board, do you?”
“No, we don’t. Shipboard life is for adults, even aboard a voidhawk.”
“So how do they grow up?”
“What do you mean?” It was a strange question, especially from him. But she could see it was important.
“They haven’t got you there as a mother.”
“Oh, I see. It doesn’t matter, for them anyway. Voidhawk captains tend to have fairly large extended families. I must take you to see my mother some time, then you’ll see first-hand. Any children I have while I’m still flying with Oenone will be taken care of by my army of relatives, and the habitat as well. I’m not propagandising, but Edenism is one giant family. There’s no such thing as an orphan among us. Of course, it’s hard on us captains, having to kiss goodbye to our babies for months at a time. But that’s been the fate of sailors for millennia now. And of course, we do get to make up for it at the end. When Oenone ’s eggs are birthed, I wind up at ninety years old in a house with a dozen screaming infants. Imagine that.”
“Are they happy, those other children? The ones you have to leave behind.”
“Yes. They’re happy. I know you think we’re terribly formal and mannered, but we’re not mechanoids, Joshua, we love our children.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “You okay?”
“Oh yeah. I’m okay.” He concentrated on his flute. “Syrinx. You can count on me during the flight.”
“I know that, Joshua. I reviewed the Murora memory a few times, and I’ve spoken to Samuel, too.”
He gestured out at the starfield. “The real answer lies out there, somewhere.”
“Consensus has known that all along. And as the Kiint wouldn’t tell me . . .”
“And I’m not smart enough to help the research professors . . .”
They smiled. “Here’s to the flight,” Syrinx said.
“Soaring where angels fear to fly.”
They downed the remainder of their Norfolk Tears. Syrinx blew heavily, and blinked the moisture away from her eyes. Then she frowned at the figure standing at the bar. “Jesus, Joshua, I didn’t know there was two of you.”
The enjoyable surprise of hearing an Edenist swear in such a fashion was quelled with pique when he saw who she was talking about. He stuck his hand up and waved Liol over.
“Delighted to meet you,” Liol said when Joshua introduced them. He polished up the Calvert grin for her benefit, and kissed her hand.
Syrinx laughed, and stood up. “Sorry Liol, I’m afraid I had my inoculation some time ago.” Joshua was chuckling.
“I’ll leave the pair of you to it,” she said, and gave Joshua a light kiss. “Don’t be late.”
“Got her eddress?” Liol asked from the side of his mouth as he watched her walk away.
“Liol, that’s a voidhawk ship-tunic. Syrinx doesn’t have an eddress. So how are you?”
“Absolutely fine.” Liol reversed a chair, and straddled it, arms resting on the back. “This is party city for me all right. I think I’ll move Quantum Serendipity here after the crisis.”
“Right. Haven’t seen much of you since we docked.”
“Well hey, no surprise there. That Dominique, hell of a girl.” He lowered his voice to a throaty gloating growl. “Game on, five, six times a night. Every position I know, then some that’s got to be just for xenocs.”
“Wow.”
“Last night, you know what? Threesome. Neomone joined in.”
“No shit? You record a sensevise?”
Liol put both hands down on the table, and stared at his brother. “Josh.”
“Yep.”
“For Christ’s sake take me with you.”
Kerry was the first planet, the test. Catholic Irish-ethnic to the bedrock, its inhabitants gave the priests of the Unified Church a very hard time. Stubbornly suspicious of technology, it took them a half a century longer than the development company projected to reach full technoindustrial independence. When they did achieve it, their economic index never matched the acceleration curve of the more driven Western-Christian work-ethic planets. They were comfortably off, favoured large families, traded modestly with nearby star systems, contributed grudgingly to the Confederation Assembly and Navy, and went to Church regularly. There were no aspirations to become a galactic player like Kulu, Oshanko, and Edenism. Quiet people getting on with their lives. Until the possession crisis arrived.
The planet was seven light-years from New California, and worried. Their Strategic Defence network was the absolute minimum for a developed world; and combat wasp stocks were never kept very high; maintenance budgets were also subject to political trimming. Since the crisis began, and especially post-Arnstat, Kerry had been desperately trying to upgrade. Unfortunately their industrial stations weren’t geared towards churning out military hardware. Nor were they closely allied to Kulu or Earth who did produce an abundance of such items. The Edenists of the Kerry system, orbiting Rathdrum, lent what support they could; but they had their own defences to enhance first.
Still, went the hope and reasoning, that’s the benefit of being galactic small fry, Capone isn’t going to bother with us. When it came to the effort of mounting a full scale invasion along the lines of Arnstat they were absolutely right. Which is why Al’s sudden change of policy caught them woefully unprepared.
Twelve hellhawks emerged five and a half thousand kilometres above Kerry’s atmosphere, and fired a salvo of ten (fusion powered) combat wasps each. The bitek craft immediately started accelerating at six gees, flying away from each other in an expanding globe formation. Their combat wasps raced on ahead of them, ejecting multiple submunitions. Space was infected by electronic warfare impulses and thermal decoys, a rapidly growing blind spot in Kerry’s sensor coverage. Submunitions began to target sensor satellites, inter-orbit ships, spaceplanes, and low orbit SD platforms. A volley of fusion bombs detonated, creating a further maelstrom of electromagnetic chaos.
Kerry’s SD network controllers, surprised by the vehemence of the attack, and fearing an Arnstat-style assault, did their best to counter. Platforms launched counter salvos of combat wasps; electron beams and X-ray lasers stabbed out, slashing across the vacuum to punch submunitions into bloating haze-balls of ions. Electronic warfare generators on the platforms began pumping out their own disruption. After four seconds spent analysing the attack mode, the network’s coordinating AI determined the hellhawks were engaged in a safe-clearance operation. It was right.
Ten front-line Organization frigates emerged into the calm centre of the combat wasp deluge. Fusion drives ignited, driving them down towards the planet at eight gees. Combat wasps slid out of their launch tubes, and their drives came on.
The AI had switched all available sensor satellites to scanning the frigates. Radars and laser radars were essentially useless in the face of New California’s superior electronic warfare technology. The network’s visual pattern sensors were being pummelled by the nuclear explosions and deception impulse lasers, but they did manage to distinguish the unique superhot energy output of antimatter drives. The ultimate horror unchained above Kerry’s beautiful, vulnerable atmosphere.
Unlike ordinary combat wasps, a killstrike didn’t eliminate the problem. Hit a fusion bomb with a laser or kinetic bullet, and there is no nuclear explosion, it simply disintegrates into its component molecules. But knock out an antimatter combat wasp, and the drive’s confinement spheres will detonate into multi-megaton fury, as will as the warheads.
As soon as the launch was verified, the AI’s total priority was preventing the antimatter combat wasps from getting within a thousand kilometres of the stratosphere. Starships, communication platforms, port stations, and industrial stations were reclassified expendable, and left to take their chances. Every SD resource was concentrated on eliminating the antimatter drones. Weapons were realigned away from the hellhawks and frigates, and brought to bear solely on the searing lightpoints racing over the delicate continents. Defending combat wasps performed drastic realignment manoeuvres; platform-mounted rail guns pumped out a cascade of inert kinetic missiles along projected vectors. Patrolling starships accelerated down at high-gees, bringing their combat wasps and energy beam weapons in range.
The hellhawks fired another barrage of combat wasps, sending them streaking away from the nebulous clot of plasma which the initial drone battle had smeared across the sky. They were aimed at the remaining low orbit SD platforms shielding the continent below. Apart from activating the platforms’ close-defence weapons, there was little the network controllers could do. Hurtling towards the planet, the frigates began to diverge, curving away from each other. Nothing challenged their approach. The continent was completely open to whatever they chose to throw at it.
As the antimatter exploded overhead in a pattern that created an umbrella of solid incandescent radiation three thousand kilometres across, they made a strange selection. Two hundred kilometres above the atmosphere, each warship flung out a batch of inactive ovoids, measuring a mere three metres high. Their task complete, the frigates curved up, striving for altitude with an eight-gee acceleration. A second, smaller salvo of antimatter combat wasps was fired, providing the same kind of diversionary cover as they’d enjoyed during their descent.
This time, the invaders didn’t have it all their own way. The number of weapons focused on, and active within, the small zone where the frigates and hellhawks were concentrated began to take effect. Even Kerry’s second-rate hardware had the odds tilting in its favour. A nuclear tipped submunition exploded against one of the frigates. Its entire stock of antimatter detonated instantaneously. The radiation blaze wiped out every chunk of hardware within a five hundred kilometre radius. Outside the killzone, ships and drones spun away inertly, moulting charred flakes of null-foam. Exposed fuselages shone like small suns under the equally intense photonic energy release. To those on the planet unlucky enough to be looking up at the silent, glorious blossoms of light during the first stage of the battle, it was as though the noon sun had suddenly quadrupled in vigour. Then their optic nerves burnt out.
Two of the hellhawks were crippled in the explosion, their polyp penetrated by lethal quantities of gamma radiation. One of the frigates was unable to handle the massive energy impact. The dissipation web beneath its hexagonal fuselage plates turned crimson and melted. The patterning nodes facing the massive explosion flash suffered catastrophic failures as the radiation smashed delicate molecular junctions into slag. The fusion drives failed. Plumes of hot vapour squirted angrily out of emergency vent nozzles. Inside, the crew charged through their contingency procedures, desperate to sustain the integrity of the antimatter confinement spheres in their remaining combat wasps.
None of their Organization colleagues went back for them. As soon as the eight remaining frigates reached a five thousand kilometre altitude, they jumped outsystem. The hellhawks followed within seconds, leaving Kerry’s population wondering what the hell had happened. Behind the shrinking wormhole interstices, the black eggs thundered earthwards with total impunity. SD sensors never found them amid the electronic disorder. People on the planet couldn’t see their laser-like contrails against the dazzling aftermath of the orbital explosions.
They fell fast before decelerating at excruciatingly high gees in the lower atmosphere. Sonic booms rocked across the sleepy farmland, the first indication that anything was wrong. When the rural folk started to scan the sky in mild alarm, all that was to be seen were chunks of flaming debris streaking down from the battle—to be expected, claimed those who knew something of such things. The eggs reached subsonic speed a kilometre above the land. Petals flipped out from the lower half, presenting a wider surface area to the air, doubling the drag coefficient. At four hundred metres, the drogue chute shot up. Two hundred metres saw the main chute deployment.
Two hundred and fifty of the black eggs thudded to ground at random across an area measuring over three hundred thousand square kilometres. The petals failed on eight, while a further nine suffered chute failure. The remaining two hundred and thirty three produced a bone-rattler landing for their passengers, bouncing and rolling for several metres before they came to a halt. Their sides slit open with a loud crack, and the possessed stepped forth to admire the verdant green land they had volunteered to infiltrate.
The hellhawks arrived back at New California thirty hours later. They didn’t even get a hero’s welcome. The Organization already knew the seeding flight had been a success; information from the infiltrators had already squirmed its way back through the beyond.
Al was jubilant. He ordered Emmet and Leroy to put together another five seeding flights immediately. The fleet crews and asteroids cooperated enthusiastically. The success was nothing like as momentous as the Arnstat victory, but it kicked in a resurgence of confidence throughout the Organization. We’re a power again, was the shared opinion. Beefs and recalcitrance sloped away.
The Varrad discarded its fantasy starship image as it approached Monterey. It slid over the docking ledge pedestal and slowly sank down, radiating a desultory relief.
You did well,hudson proctor told pran soo, the hellhawk’s resident soul. Kiera says she’s pleased with you.
Commence nutrient fluid pumping,pran soo said flatly.
Sure thing. Here it comes. Enjoy.
Hudson Proctor gave a short command, and the fluid surged along the pipes and into the hellhawk’s internal reserve bladders.
Two of us were exterminated,pran soo announced to the other hellhawks. Linsky and Maranthis. They were irradiated when Kerry’s SD network took out the Dorbane. It was awful. I felt their structure withering.
Price we pay for victory,etchells said swiftly. Two of us, against an entire Confederation planet taken out.
Yeah,said felix, who possessed the Kerachel.Kerry had me real worried. When it comes to drinking contests and pub brawls, they’d got us beat every time.
Keep your Goddamn pinko loser opinions to yourself,etchells sneered back. This was a concept-proving mission. What the fuck do you know about overall strategy? We’re the hard edge of operations, the cosmic shock troops.
Give it a rest, you boring little prat. And don’t pretend you were ever in an army. Even armies have a minimum IQ requirement.
Oh yeah? What you know. I killed fifteen men when I was in combat.
Yeah, he was a nurse. Couldn’t read the label on the medicine bottle.
Careful, shit-for-brains.
Or what?
I’m sure Kiera would be interested to know about this sedition you’re spreading. See what a little fasting does to your attitude.
SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BOLLOCKBRAINED NAZI REDNECK MORON.
The general affinity band fell silent for quite some time.
Were you listening to all that?pran soo asked rocio on singular engagement.
I heard,the Mindori ’s possessor replied. I think things might be starting to slide our way.
Could be. I’m sure each of us can do simple maths. Two of us per soft-target planet. When we start hitting hard targets, Kiera’s going to have a full scale strike on her hands.
Which she’ll win unless we can provide everyone with an alternative food source.
Yeah. How’s it going?
I have been tracking the Lucky Logorn, they’re almost back at Almaden.
You think this Deebank guy will go for our pitch?
He was the first to offer us a deal. At least he’ll listen to what I suggest.
The First Admiral had stayed away from the CNIS secure laboratory ever since the incident in court three. Maynard Khanna had been a damn fine officer, not to mention young and personable. The boy would have gone a long way in the Confederation Navy, so Samual Aleksandrovich had always told himself. With or without my patronage. Now he was dead.
The funeral ceremony in Trafalgar’s multi-denominational church had been short and simple. Dignified, as was fitting. A flag draped coffin, the enduring image of military service for centuries, placed reverently on a pedestal before the altar by the Marine dress guard. It was intended as a focus for their honour. But Samual had thought it looked more like a sacrificial offering.
Standing in the front pew, mouthing the words of a hymn, he suddenly wondered if Khanna was actually watching them. Information gleaned from captured possessed indicated those ensnared in the beyond were aware of events inside the real universe. It was a moment of profound spookiness; he even lowered his hymn book to stare at the coffin in suspicion. Was this why the whole funeral ritual had started back in pre-history times? It was one of the most common cross-cultural events, a ceremony to mark the passing of life. The deceased’s friends and relatives coming to pay homage, to wish them well on their way. It would be reassuring for a soul, otherwise so naked and alone, to gain the knowledge that so many considered their life to be worthwhile.
The remnants of Maynard Khanna’s body mocked the notion of a fulfilled existence. Young, tortured to death, his ending had been neither swift nor noble.
Samual Aleksandrovich had raised his hymn book again and sung with a vigour which surprised the other officers. Perhaps Khanna would witness the mark of devotion from his superior officer, and draw some comfort from the fact. If it made a difference, the effort should be made. Now Samual Aleksandrovich was having to confront the cause of his regret. Jacqueline Couteur was still possessing her stolen body, immune from the usual laws that would deliver justice upon such a treacherous multiple murderess.
He was accompanied by Mae Ortlieb and Jeeta Anwar from the Assembly President’s staff, as well as admiral Lalwani and Maynard Khanna’s replacement, Captain Amr al-Sahhaf. The presence of the two presidential aides he found mildly annoying; an indication of how his decisions and prerogatives were increasingly coming under political scrutiny. Olton Haaker had that right, Samual acknowledged, but it was being wielded with less subtlety as the crisis drew out.
For the first time he was actually thankful for the Mortonridge Liberation. Positive physical action on such a massive scale had diverted the attention of both the Assembly and the media companies from Navy activities. The politicians, he conceded grimly, might have been right about the psychological impact such a campaign would create. He’d even accessed a few rover reporter sensevises himself to see how the serjeants were doing. My God, the mud!
Dr Gilmore and Euru greeted the small elite delegation with little sign of nerves. A good omen, Samual thought. His spirits lifted further when Gilmore started to lead them along to the physics and electronics laboratory section, away from the demon trap.
Bitek Laboratory Thirteen was almost the same as any standard electronic research facility. A long room lined with benches, several morgue-like slabs arranged down the centre, and glass-walled clean rooms at one end. Tall stacks of experimental equipment were standing like modern megaliths on every surface, alongside ultra-high-resolution scanners and powerful desktop blocks. The only distinguishing items the First Admiral could see were the clone vats. Those you normally wouldn’t find outside an Edenist establishment.
“Exactly what are you demonstrating for us?” Jeeta Anwar asked.
“The prototype anti-memory,” Euru said. “It was surprisingly easy to assemble. Of course, we do have a great many thoughtware weapons on file, which we’ve studied. And the neural mechanisms behind memory retention are well understood.”
“If that’s the case, I’m surprised no one has ever designed one before.”
“It’s a question of application,” Gilmore said. “As the First Admiral pointed out once, the more complex a weapon is, the more impractical it becomes, especially in the field. In order for the anti-memory to work, the brain must be subjected to quite a long sequence of imprint pulses. You couldn’t just fire it at your opponent the same way you do a bullet. They have to be looking straight into the beam, and a sharp movement, or even an inappropriately timed blink will nullify the whole process. And if it was known to be in use, retinal implants could be programmed to recognize it, and block it out. However, once you hold a captive, application becomes extremely simple.”
Mattox was waiting for them by the last clean room, looking through the glass with the air of a proud parent. “Testing has been our greatest stalling point,” he explained. “Ordinary bitek processors are completely useless in this respect. We had to design a system which duplicates a typical human neurone structure in its entirety.”
“You mean you cloned a brain?” Mae Ortlieb asked, a blatant note of disapproval in her voice.
“The structural array is copied from a brain,” Mattox said defensively. “But the construct itself is made purely from bitek. There was no cloning involved.” He indicated the clean room.
The delegation moved closer. The room was almost empty, containing a single table which held a burnished metal cylinder. Slim tubes of nutrient fluid snaked out of the base to link it with a squat protein cycler mechanism. A small box protruded from the side of the cylinder, half-way up. Made of translucent amber plastic, it contained a solitary dark sphere of some denser material, set near the surface. The First Admiral upped the magnification on his enhanced retinas. “That’s an eye,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Mattox said. “We’re trying to make this as realistic as possible. Genuine application will require the anti-memory to be conducted down an optic nerve.”
A black electronic module was suspended centimetres from the bitek eye, held in place by a crude metal clamp. Fibre optic cables trailed away from it, to plug into the clean room’s utility data sockets.
“What sort of routines are you running inside the construct?” Mae Ortlieb asked.
“Mine,” Euru said. “We connected the cortex to an affinity capable processor, and I transferred a copy of my personality and memories into it.”
She flinched, looking from the Edenist to the metal cylinder. “Isn’t that somewhat unusual?”
“Not relative to this situation,” he replied with a smile. “We are attempting to create the most realistic environment we can. For that we need a human mind. If you would care to give it a simple Turing test.” He touched a processor block on the wall beside the clean room. Its AV lens sparkled.
“Who are you?” Mae Ortlieb asked, with some self-consciousness.
“I suppose I ought to call myself Euru-two,” the AV lens replied. “But then Euru has transferred his personality into a neural simulacrum twelve times already to assist with the anti-memory evaluation.”
“Then you should be Euru-thirteen.”
“Just call me junior, it’s simpler.”
“And do you believe you’ve retained your human faculties?”
“I don’t have affinity, of course, which I regard as distressing. However, as I won’t be in existence for very long, it’s absence is tolerable. Apart from that, I am fully human.”
“Volunteering for a suicide isn’t a very healthy human trait, and certainly not for an Edenist.”
“None the less, it’s what I committed myself to.”
“Your original self did. What about you, have you no independence?”
“Possibly if you left me to develop by myself for several months, I would become reluctant. At the moment, I am Euru senior’s mind twin, and as such this experiment is quite acceptable to me.”
The First Admiral frowned, troubled by what he was witnessing. He hadn’t known Gilmore’s team had reached quite this level. He gave Euru a sidelong glance. “I’m given to understand that a soul is formed by impressing coherent sentient thought on the beyond-type energy which is present in this universe. Therefore, as you are a sentient entity, you will now have your own soul.”
“I would assume so, admiral,” Euru junior replied. “It is logical.”
“Which means you have the potential to become an immortal entity in your own right. Yet this trial will eliminate you forever. This is an alarming prospect, for me if not for you. I’m not sure we have the moral right to continue.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Admiral. However, my identity is more important to me than my soul, or souls. I know that when I am erased from this construct, I, Euru, will continue to exist. The sum of whatever I am goes on. This is the knowledge which rewards all Edenists throughout their lives. Whereas I now exist for one reason, to protect that continuity for my culture. Human beings have died to protect their homes and ideals for all of history, even though they never knew for certain they had souls. I am no different to any of them. I quite plainly choose to undergo the anti-memory so that our race can overcome this crisis.”
“Quite a Turing test,” Mae Ortlieb said sardonically. “I bet the old man never envisaged this kind of conversation with a machine trying to prove its own intelligence.”
“If there’s nothing else,” Gilmore said quickly.
The First Admiral looked in at the cylinder again, contemplating a refusal. He knew such an instruction would never be allowed to stand by the President. And I don’t need that kind of interventionism in Navy affairs right now. “Very well,” he said reluctantly.
Gilmore and Mattox exchanged a mildly guilty look. Mattox datavised an instruction to the clean room’s control processor, and the glass turned opaque. “Just to protect you from any possible spillback,” he said. “If you’d like to access the internal camera you can observe the process in full. Not that there will be anything much to see. I assure you the spectrum we’re using to transmit the anti-memory has been blocked from the sensor.”
True to his word, the image the delegation received when they accessed the sensor was pallid, the colour almost nonexistent. All they saw was a small blank disc slide out of the electronic module, positioning itself over the encapsulated eye. Some iconic overlay digits twisted past, meaningless.
“That’s it,” Mattox announced.
The First Admiral cancelled his channel with the processor. The clean room’s window turned transparent again, in time to catch the disc retract back into the electronic module.
Gilmore faced the AV lens. “Junior, can you hear me?” The lens’s diminutive sparkle remained constant.
Mattox received a datavise from the construct’s monitoring probes. “Brainwave functions have collapsed,” he said. “And the synaptic discharges are completely randomized.”
“What about memory retention?” Gilmore queried.
“Probably around thirty to thirty-five per cent. I’ll run a complete neurological capacity scan once it’s stabilized.” The CNIS science team members smiled round at each other.
“That’s good,” Gilmore said. “That’s damn good. Best percentage yet.”
“Meaning?” the First Admiral asked.
“There are no operative thought patterns left in there. Junior has stopped thinking. The bitek is just a store for memory fragments.”
“Impressive,” Mae Ortlieb said reflectively. “So what’s your next stage?”
“We’re not sure,” Gilmore said. “I have to admit, the potential for this thing is frightening. Our idea is to use it as a threat to force the souls away from their interface with this universe.”
“If it works on souls themselves,” Jeeta Anwar pointed out.
“That prospect is bringing about a whole range of new problems,” Gilmore conceded cheerlessly.
“Let me guess,” Samual said. “If anti-memory is used on a possessed, you will also erase the host’s memories, and destroy their soul.”
“It seems likely,” Euru said. “We know a host’s mind is still contained within their brain while the possessing soul retains control of the body. The host’s reappearance after zero-tau immersion forces the possessor out proves that.”
“So, anti-memory cannot be used on an individual basis?”
“Not without killing the host’s soul as well, no sir.”
“Will this version work in the beyond?” Samual asked sharply.
“I doubt it would ever get through to the beyond,” Mattox said. “At present, it’s too slow and inefficient. It managed to dissipate Junior’s thought processes; but as you saw, it didn’t get all the memories. The areas of the mind which are not employed when the anti-memory strikes are likely to be insulated from it as the thought channels which would ordinarily connect them are nullified. If you analogise the mind with a city, you’re destroying the roads and leaving the buildings intact. Given that the connection a possessing soul has with the beyond is tenuous at best, there is no guarantee the anti-memory would manage to pass through in its current form. We must develop a much faster version.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“No sir. These are estimations and theories. We won’t know if a version works until after it’s proved successful.”
“The trouble with that is, a successful anti-memory would exterminate every soul in the beyond,” Euru said quietly.
“Is that true?”
“Yes, sir,” Gilmore said. “That’s our dilemma. There can be no small scale test or demonstration. Anti-memory is effectively a doomsday weapon.”
“You’ll never get the souls to believe that,” Lalwani said. “In fact, given what we know of conditions in the beyond, you wouldn’t even get many of them to pay attention to the warning.”
“I cannot conceivably permit the use of a weapon which will exterminate billions of human entities,” the First Admiral said. “You have to provide me with alternative options.”
“But Admiral—”
“No. I’m sorry, Doctor. I know you’ve worked hard on this, and I appreciate the effort you and your team have made. Nobody is more aware than myself of just how extreme the threat which the possessed present. But even that cannot justify such a response.”
“Admiral! We’ve explored every option we can think of. Every theorist I’ve got in every scientific discipline there is has been working on ideas and wild theories. We even tried an exorcism after that priest on Lalonde claimed his worked. Nothing. Nothing else has come close to being viable. This is the only progress we have made.”
“Doctor, I’m not denigrating your work or your commitment. But surely you can see this is completely unacceptable. Morally, ethically, it is wrong. It cannot be anything other than wrong. What you are suggesting is racial genocide. I will tell you this, the authorization to use such a monstrosity will never come from my lips. Nor I suspect, and hope, would any other Navy officer issue it. Now find me another solution. This project is terminated.”
The First Admiral’s staff ran a quiet sweepstake to see how long it would be before President Haaker datavised for a conference, the winner called it in at ninety-seven minutes. They sat facing each other across the oval table in a security-level-one sensenviron bubble room. Both kept their generated faces neutral and intonations level.
“Samual, you can’t cancel the anti-memory project,” the President opened with. “It’s all we’ve got.”
In his office, Samual Aleksandrovich smiled at the way Haaker used his first name, the man always did that when he was going to adopt a totally intransigent line. “Apart from the Mortonridge Liberation, you mean?” He could imagine the tight lips drawn at that jibe.
“As you so kindly pointed out earlier, the Liberation is not a solution to the overall problem. Anti-memory is.”
“Undoubtedly. Too final. Look, I don’t know if Mae and Jeeta explained this fully to you, but the research team believe it would exterminate every soul in the beyond. You can’t seriously consider that.”
“Samual, those souls you’re so concerned about are attempting to enslave every one of us. I have to say I’m surprised by your attitude. You’re a military man, you know that war is the result of total irrationality combined with conflict of interest. This crisis is the supreme example of both. The souls desperately want to return, and we cannot allow them to. They will extinguish the human race if they succeed.”
“They will ruin almost everything we have accomplished. But total life extinction, no. I don’t even believe they can possess all of us. The Edenists have proved remarkably resistant; and the spread has all but stopped.”
“Yes, thanks to your quarantine. It’s been a successful policy, I won’t deny that. But so far we’ve been unable to offer anything that can reverse what’s happened. And that’s what the vast majority of the Confederation population want. Actually, that’s what they insist upon. The spread might have slowed, but it hasn’t stopped. You know that as well as I do. And the quarantine is difficult to enforce.”
“You really don’t understand what you’re proposing, do you. There are billions of souls there. Billions.”
“And they are living in torment. For whatever reason, they cannot move on as this Laton character claimed is possible. Don’t you think they’d welcome true death?”
“Some of them might. I probably would. But neither you nor I have the right to decide that for them.”
“They forced us into this position. They’re the ones invading us.”
“That does not give us the right to exterminate them. We have to find a way to help them; by doing that we help ourselves. Can you not see that?”
The President abandoned his image’s impartiality and leant forwards, his voice becoming earnest. “Of course I can see that. Don’t try to portray me as some kind of intransigent villain here. I’ve supported you, Samual, because I know nobody can command the Navy better than you. And I’ve been rewarded by that support. So far we’ve kept on top of the political situation, kept the hotheads in line. But it can’t last forever. Sometime, somehow, a solution is going to have to be presented to the Confederation as a whole. And all we’ve got so far is one solitary possible answer: the anti-memory. I cannot permit you to abandon that, Samual. These are very desperate times; we have to consider everything, however horrific it appears.”
“I will never permit such a thing to be used. For all they are different, the souls are human. I am sworn to protect life throughout the Confederation.”
“The order to use it would not be yours to give. A weapon like that never falls within the prerogative of the military. It belongs to us, the politicians you despise.”
“Disapprove of. Occasionally.” The First Admiral permitted a slight smile to show.
“Keep on searching, Samual. Bully Gilmore and his people into finding a decent solution, a humanitarian one. I want that as much as you do. But they are to continue to develop the anti-memory in parallel.”
There was a pause. Samual knew that to refuse now would mean Haaker issuing an official request through his office. Which in turn would make his position as First Admiral untenable. That was the stark choice on offer.
“Of course, Mr President.”
President Haaker gave a tight smile, and datavised his processor to cancel the meeting, safe in the knowledge that their oh-so diplomatic clash would be known to no one.
The encryption techniques which provided a security-level-one conference were, after all, known to be unbreakable. The most common statistic quoted by security experts was that every AI in the Confederation running in parallel would be unable to crack the code in less than five times the life of the universe. It would, therefore, have proved quite distressing to the CNIS secure communications division (as well as their ESA and B7 equivalents, among others) to know that a perfect replica of a 27-inch 1980’s Sony Trinitron colour television was currently showing the image of the First Admiral and the Assembly President to an audience of fifteen attentive duomillenarians and one highly inattentive ten-year-old girl.
Tracy Dean sighed in frustration as the picture vanished to a tiny phosphor dot in the middle of the screen. “Well, that’s gone and put the cat amongst the pigeons, and no mistake.”
Jay was swinging her feet about while she sat on a too-high stool. As well as being their main social centre, the clubhouse catered for the retired Kiint observers who weren’t quite up to living by themselves in a chalet anymore. A huge airy building, with wide corridors and broad archways opening into sunlit rooms that all seemed to resemble hotel lounges. The walls were white plaster, with dark-red tile floors laid everywhere. Big clay pots growing tall palms were a favourite. Tiny birds with bright gold and scarlet bodies and turquoise membrane wings flittered in and out through the open windows, dodging the purple provider globes. The whole theme of the clubhouse was based around comfort. There were no stairs or steps, only ramps; chairs were deeply cushioned; even the food extruded by the universal providers, no matter what type, was soft, requiring little effort to chew.
The first five minutes walking through the building had been interesting. Tracy showed her round, introducing her to the other residents, all of whom were quite spry despite their frail appearance. Of course they were all very happy to see her, making a fuss, patting her head, winking fondly, telling her how nice her new dress was, suggesting strangely named biscuits, sweets and ice creams they thought she’d enjoy. They didn’t move much from their lounge chairs; contenting themselves with watching events around the Confederation and nostalgic programmes from centuries past.
Jay and Tracy wound up in the lounge with the big TV for half the afternoon, while the residents argued over what channel to watch. They flipped through real-time secret governmental and military conferences, alternating those with a show called “Happy Days,” which they all cackled along to in synchronisation with the brash laughter track. Even the original commercial breaks were showing. Jay smiled in confusion at the archaic unfunny characters, and kept sneaking glances out of the window. For the last three days she’d played on the beach with the games the universal providers had extruded; swam, gone for long walks along the sand and through the peaceful jungle behind the beach. The meals had easily been as good as the ones in Tranquillity. Tracy had even got her a processor block with an AV lens that was able to pick up Confederation entertainment shows, which she watched for a few hours every evening. And Richard Keaton had popped in a couple of times to see how she was getting on. But, basically, she was fed-up. Those planets hanging so invitingly in the sky above were a permanent temptation, a reminder that things in the Kiint home system were a bit more active than the human beach.
Tracy caught her wistful gaze once and patted her hand. “Cultural differences,” she said confidentially as the mortified Fonz received his army draft papers. “You have to understand the decade before you understand the humour.”
Jay nodded wisely, and wondered just when she’d be allowed to see Haile again. Haile was a lot more fun than the Fonz. Then they’d flicked stations to the First Admiral and the President.
“Corpus will have to intervene now,” one of the other residents said, a lady called Saska. “That anti-memory could seep outside the human spectrum. Then there’d be trouble.”
“Corpus won’t,” Tracy replied. “It never does. What is, is. Remember?”
“Check your references,” another woman said. “Plenty of races considered deploying similar weapons when they encountered the beyond. We’ve got records of eighteen being used.”
“That’s awful. What happened?”
“They didn’t work very well. Only a moderate percentage of the inverse transcendent population were eliminated. There’s too much pattern distortion among the inverses to conduct an anti-memory properly. No species has ever developed one that operates fast enough to be effective. Such things cannot be considered a final solution by any means.”
“Yes but that idiot Haaker won’t know that until after it’s been tried,” Galic, one of the men, complained. “We can’t possibly allow a human to die, not even an inverse. No human has ever died.”
“We’ve suffered a lot though,” a resentful voice muttered.
“And they’ll start dying on the removed worlds soon enough.”
“I tell you, Corpus won’t intervene.”
“We could appeal,” Tracy said. “At the very least we could ask for an insertion at the anti-memory project to monitor its development. After all, if anyone’s going to come up with an anti-memory fast enough to devastate the beyond, it’ll be our weapons-mad race.”
“All right,” Saska said. “But we’ll need a quorum before we can even get the appeal up to an executive level.”
“As if that’ll be a problem,” Galic said.
Tracy smiled mischievously. “And I know of someone who’s perfectly suited to this particular insertion.” Several groans were issued across the lounge.
“Him?”
“Far too smart for his own good, if you ask me.”
“No discipline.”
“We never ran observer operations like that.”
“Cocky little bugger.”
“Nonsense,” Tracy said briskly. She put her arm round Jay. “Jay likes him, don’t you, Jay?”
“Who?”
“Richard.”
“Oh.” Jay held up Prince Dell; for some unexplainable reason she hadn’t managed to abandon the bear in her room. “He gave me this,” she announced to the lounge at large.
Tracy laughed. “There you go then. Arnie, you prepare the appeal, you’re best acquainted with the minutiae of Corpus protocol procedures.”
“All right.” One of the men raised his hands in gruff submission. “I suppose I can spare the time.”
The TV was switched back on, playing the signature tune for “I Love Lucy.” Tracy pulled a face, and took Jay’s hand. “Come on, poppet, I think you’re quite bored enough already.”
“Who’s the Corpus?” Jay asked as they walked through the front entrance and into the sharp sunlight. There was a black iron penny-farthing bicycle mounted on a stone pedestal just outside. The first time Jay had seen it, she’d taken an age to work out how people were supposed to ride it.
“Corpus isn’t a who, exactly,” Tracy said. “It’s more like the Kiint version of an Edenist Consensus. Except, it’s sort of a philosophy as well as a government. I’m sorry, that’s not a very good explanation, is it?”
“It’s in charge, you mean?”
Tracy’s hesitation was barely noticeable. “Yes, that’s right. We have to obey its laws. And the strongest of all is non-intervention. The one which Haile broke to bring you here.”
“And you’re worried about this anti-memory weapon thing?”
“Badly worried, though everyone is trying not to show it. That thing could cause havoc if it gets released into the beyond. We really can’t allow that to happen, poppet. Which is why I want Richard sent to Trafalgar.”
“Why?”
“You heard what they were saying. He lacks discipline.” She winked.
Tracy led her back to the circle of ebony marble above the beach. Jay had seen several of them dotted around the cluster of chalets, including a couple in the clubhouse itself. A few times she’d even seen the black spheres blink into existence and deposit somebody. Once she’d actually scampered on to a circle herself, closing her eyes and holding her breath. But nothing had happened. She guessed you needed to datavise whatever control processor they used.
Tracy stopped at the edge of the circle, and held up a finger to Jay. “Someone to see you,” she said.
A black sphere materialized. Then Haile was standing there, half-formed arms waving uncertainly.
Friend Jay! Much gladness.
Jay squealed excitedly, and rushed forward to throw her arms around her friend’s neck. “Where’ve you been? I missed you.” There was plenty of hurt in the voice.
I have had time learning much.
“Like what?”
A tractamorphic arm curled round Jay’s waist. How things work.
“What things?”
The Corpus.haile’s tone was slightly awed.
Jay rubbed the top of the baby Kiint’s head. “Oh that. Everyone here’s really annoyed with it.”
With Corpus? That cannot be.
“It won’t help humans with possession, not big help like we need, anyway. Don’t worry, Tracy’s going to lodge an appeal. Everything will be all right eventually.”
This is goodness. Corpus is most wise.
“Yeah?” She patted Haile’s front leg, and the Kiint obediently bent her knee. Jay scrambled up quickly to sit astride Haile’s neck. “Does it know any good sandcastle designs?”
Haile lumbered off the ebony circle. Corpus has no knowledge concerning the building of castles from sand.jay grinned smugly.
“Now you two be good,” Tracy said sternly. “You can swim, but you’re not to go out of your depth in the water. I know the providers will help if you get into trouble, but that’s not the point. You have to learn to take responsibility for yourselves. Understood?”
“Yes, Tracy.”
I have comprehension.
“All right, go on then, have fun. And Jay, you’re not to stuff yourself with sweets. I’m cooking supper for us tonight, and I shall be very cross if you don’t eat anything.”
“Yes, Tracy.” She squeezed her knees into Haile’s flanks, and the Kiint started moving forwards, taking them quickly away from the old woman.
“Did you get into lots of trouble for rescuing me?” Jay asked anxiously after they’d left Tracy behind.
Corpus has much understanding and provides forgiveness.
“Oh good.”
But I am not to do it again.
Jay scratched her friend’s shoulders fondly as they hurried down towards the water. “Hey, you’re getting lots better at walking.”
The rest of the afternoon was a delight. Like old times back in Tranquillity’s cove. They swam, and the attendant universal provider extruded a sponge and a brush so Haile could be scrubbed, they built some sandcastles, though this fine loose sand wasn’t terribly good for it, Jay risked asking for a couple of chocolate almond ice creams—was pretty sure the provider would tell Tracy if she had any more—they swatted an inflated beach ball to and fro, and once they’d tired themselves out they talked about the Kiint home system. Haile didn’t know much more than Tracy had already explained, but whatever new question Jay asked, the Kiint just consulted Corpus for an answer.
The information was rather intriguing. For a start, the cluster of retirement chalets were one of three such human establishments on an otherwise uninhabited island fifty kilometres across. It was called The Village.
“The island’s called The Village?” Jay asked in puzzlement.
Yes. The retired human observers insisted this be so. Corpus suggests there is much irony in the naming. I know not about irony.
“Cultural difference,” Jay said loftily.
The Village was one of a vast archipelago of islands, home to the observers of eight hundred different sentient xenoc races. Jay looked longingly at the yacht anchored offshore. How fabulous it would be to sail this sea, where every port would be home to a new species.
“Are there any Tyrathca here?”
Some. It is difficult for Corpus to insert into their society. They occupy many worlds, more than your Confederation. Corpus says they are insular. This has troubled Corpus recently.
Haile told her of the world she was living on now, called Riynine. Nang and Lieria had selected a home in one of the big cities, a parkland continent studded with domes and towers and other colossi. There were hundreds of millions of Kiint living there, and Haile had met lots of youngsters her own age.
I have many new friends now.
“That’s nice.” She tried not to feel jealous.
Riynine was invisible from The Village; it was a long way around the Arc, almost behind the dazzling sun. One of the capital planets, where flocks of xenoc starships arrived from worlds clear across the galaxy, forming a spiralling silver nebula above the atmosphere.
“Take me there,” Jay pleaded. She ached to see such a wonder. “I want to meet your new friends and see the city.”
Corpus does not want you alarmed. There is strangeness to be had there.
“Oh please, please. I’ll simply die if I don’t. It’s so unfair to come all this way and not see the best bit. Please, Haile, ask Corpus for me. Please!”
Friend Jay. Please have calmness. I will appeal. I promise.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She jumped up and danced around Haile, who snaked out slender tractamorphic arms to try and catch her.
“Hey there,” a voice called. “Looks like the two of you’re having a good time.”
Jay stopped, breathless and flushed. She squinted at the figure walking across the glaring sand. “Richard?”
He smiled. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Oh.” She let out a heavy breath. Everything in her life was so temporary these days. People, places . . . She tilted her head. “You look different.”
He was wearing a deep-blue uniform, clean and creased; with shining black boots. A peaked cap was tucked under his arm. And the ponytail was gone; his hair trimmed down to a centimetre high crop. “Senior Lieutenant, Keaton, Confederation Navy, reporting for duty, ma’am.” He saluted.
Jay giggled. “This is my friend, Haile.”
Hello, Haile.
Greetings Richard Keaton.
Richard tugged at his jacket, shifting his shoulders. “So what do you think? How do I look?”
“It’s very smart.”
“Ah, I knew it. It’s true. All the girls love a uniform.”
“Do you really have to go?”
“Yep. Got drafted by our friend Tracy. I’m off to Trafalgar to save the universe from the wicked Doctor Gilmore. Not that he knows he’s being wicked. That’s part of the problem, I’m afraid. Ignorance is a tragic part of life.”
“How long for?” She hadn’t quite realized things would move so fast. Tracy had only talked about the insertion a few hours ago. And now here it was, about to happen.
“Not sure. That’s why I wanted to make sure I saw you before I left. Tell you not to worry. Tracy and all her cronies mean well, but they get panicked too easily. I want you to know the human race is a lot smarter and resilient than those wonderful old coots think we are. They’ve seen too much of us at the wrong end of history. I know what we are now. And this is the time that counts. We stand a damn good chance, Jay. I promise you that.”
She put her arms round him. “I’ll look after Prince Dell for you.”
“Thanks.” He looked about with theatrical slyness, and lowered his voice. “When you get the chance . . . ask the provider for a surfboard and a jetski. And that was your idea. Okay?”
She nodded extravagantly. “Okay.”
This refit hadn’t been on quite the scale as the last two she’d undergone; but there was no doubt about it, the Lady Macbeth was an honoured source of income to the service and engineering companies that operated in Tranquillity’s counter-rotating spaceport. Several of her life support capsule fittings had collapsed under the incredible acceleration of the antimatter drive. Then there were the additional reaction mass tanks to install in the cargo bays. A whole new specialist sensor suite wired in for Kempster Getchell, as well as loading a fleet of small survey satellites. Hull plates had been removed to allow the replacement energy patterning node to be installed.
When Ione floated into the docking bay’s control centre, the nullfoam spray nozzles were folding back against the sides of the bay. Lady Mac glistened a pristine silver-grey under the ring of lights at the top of the steep metal crater.
Joshua was talking to some of the staff operating the consoles in front of the windows, discussing colour and style for the name and registration. A spindly waldo arm was already sliding out under the direction of one operator, its ion-jet painter head rotating into position.
“You’re supposed to be launching in twenty-eight minutes,” Ione said.
Joshua glanced across and smiled. He left the control centre staff, and glided over to her. They kissed. “Plenty of time. And you can’t fly without a name on the fuselage. Besides, the C.A.B. inspectors have already cleared us for flight.”
“Did Dahybi sort out the new node?”
“Yeah. Eventually. We had to get him some help. A voidhawk actually went and collected two of the manufacturer’s software team from the Halo for us. They solved the synchronization glitch. Jesus, I love ultra priority projects.”
“Good.”
“We just have to load the combat wasps, and Ashly’s flying our new MSV over from the Dassault service bay. Your science team is already on board. We got Kempster and Renato along with Mzu and the agents. Parker Higgens insisted on travelling in the Oenone with Oski Katsura and her assistants.”
“Don’t be offended,” Ione said. “Poor Parker gets dreadfully spacesick.”
Joshua gave her a blank look, as if she’d come out with a non sequitur. “And we’ve got the serjeants in zero-tau as well. Lady Mac ’s hauling a much bigger load than Oenone .”
“It’s not a contest, Joshua.”
He grinned lopsidedly and pulled her close. “I know.”
Liol erupted through the hatchway. “Josh! There you are. Look, we can’t—oh.”
“Hello, Liol,” Ione said sweetly. “So have you been enjoying yourself in Tranquillity?”
“Er, yeah. It’s great. Thanks.”
“You made a big impression on Dominique. She can’t stop talking about you.”
Liol grimaced, appealing silently to Joshua.
“I don’t think you’ve said goodbye to her yet, have you?” Ione asked.
Liol’s blush was beyond the ability of any neural nanonic override to control. “I’ve been very busy helping Josh. Er, hey, perhaps you could do it for me?”
“Yes, Liol.” She struggled against a laugh. “I’ll let her know you’ve gone.”
“Thanks, Ione, I owe you one. Er, Josh, we really need you on board now.”
Ione and Joshua both started chuckling after he vanished back out of the hatch. “You take care,” she told him after a while.
“Always do.”
The ride back to her apartment took a long time. Or perhaps it was because she suddenly felt so lonely.
He took it all very well,tranquillity said.
You think so? He hurts a lot inside. There’s a lot to be said for ignorance being bliss. But then again, he would’ve guessed eventually. I wouldn’t have been doing either of us any favours, not in the long run.
I am proud of your integrity.
Not much compensation for a broken heart . . . Sorry, that was bitchy of me. Hormones again.
Do you love him?
You’re always asking that.
And each time you give me a different answer.
I have very strong feelings for him. You know that. God, having two children with a man shows something. He’s absolutely adorable. But love . . . love I don’t know. I think I love what he is, not him. If I truly loved him, I would’ve tried to make him stay. We could’ve found something worthwhile for him to do here. Then again, maybe it’s me. Maybe I can never love anyone that way, not when I have you.she closed her eyes on the empty tube carriage, and watched the docking cradle slide Lady Mac up out of the bay. The starship’s thermo-dump panels unfolded, and the umbilicals jacked into sockets around her lower hull section disengaged. A cloud of gas and silver dust blew away. Bright blue ion flames burned around the starship’s equator, and she lifted smoothly.
Ten thousand kilometres away, Meredith Saldana’s squadron was coming together in formation. The Oenone lifted cleanly from its pedestal, and swept out to join Lady Mac . The two very different starships matched velocities, and headed towards the squadron.
I am no substitute for a human,tranquillity said gently. I would never claim you.
I know. But you’re my first love, and you always will be my love. That’s strong competition for a man.
Voidhawk captains succeed.
You’re thinking of Syrinx.
And all her kind.
But they’re Edenists. They have it different.
Perhaps you should get to know some while we’re here. They at least would not be intimidated by me.
Good idea. But . . . I don’t know if it’s because I’m a Saldana, but I just don’t feel right about embracing Edenism as the solution to all my problems. It’s a wonderful culture. But if we stayed here, if I had an Edenist for a partner, we’d wind up becoming absorbed.
We have no future returning to Mirchusko. The Laymil are no longer a mystery.
I know. But I’m still not converting to Edenism. We’re unique, you and I. We might have been created for one purpose, but we’ve evolved beyond that now. We have our own lives to live; we have the right to choose our own future.
If the possessed don’t do that for us.
They won’t. Joshua’s flight is only one of a hundred different explorations into this problem. The human race will surmount this.
Not without change. Edenism will change, they will surely have to rethink their attitude to religion.
I doubt it. They’ll see the beyond as justifying their stance that spirituality is a null concept, everything has a natural explanation however bizarre. Laton telling them they won’t be caught in the beyond will simply reinforce their position.
Then what do you propose?
I’m not sure. Perhaps nothing except for a clean start in a new star system. After that we’ll see what happens.
Ah. Now I think I understand the urge for you to have and keep this child. You intend to found a new culture. A people who have affinity, but outside the context of Edenism.
That’s very grand: founding a culture. I’m not sure my ambition extends to that.
You are a Saldana. Your family has done this once already.
Yes, but I’ve only got one womb. I can hardly birth an entire race.
There are ways. Exowombs. People who might like to try something new. Look how many youngsters flocked to Kiera Salter’s call—false though it was. And new habitats can be germinated.
Ione smiled. This excites you, doesn’t it? I’ve never known you quite so enthusiastic before.
I am intrigued, yes. I had never given the future much consideration. My life has been spent running human affairs and dealing with the Laymil project.
Well, we’ll have to wait until the immediate crisis is over before we consider our options. But it would be something, wouldn’t it? Creating the first post-possession culture, one that overthrows this ridiculous Adamist prejudice against bitek. We could incorporate the best of both cultures.
Now you talk like a true Saldana.
Luca Comar reined in his horse at the end of the drive, and dismounted to wait. It was near to midday, and people were drifting in from the fields to take a break. He didn’t begrudge them that, the sticky heat was quite something. Bloody unnatural for Norfolk.
But it was the community’s choice. Every day’s weather was a constant summer optimum, with bright light and warm breezes; while the nightly rains doused the land. Such a combination produced a vicious humidity. He was worried it might start to affect the aboriginal plants; late summer was normally a period of gradually increasing rain and reducing heat. There was also the question of how they’d react to missing Duchess’s crimson light. So far there was no visible malaise, but he felt uneasy about it.
But these conditions seemed to be doing wonders for the new cereal crops. He’d never seen them so advanced. It was going to be a great harvest. Things are getting back to normal.
You could tell the world was at rights just from the general mood. There was a heartiness that’d been missing before. Individual homes were being taken care of, kept properly clean and tidy, not just wished presentable. People paid attention to their clothes and general appearance.
And there’d been no sign of Bruce Spanton and his motley crew for awhile now. Though Luca had heard from other community leaders he was down at the southern end of Kesteven, giving decent folk a hard time. Apart from the odd problem like that, this was becoming a good life, gentle and unhurried. Satisfying.
Oh really, you’ll live it for a quintillion years, will you?
Luca shook his head, clearing it to open his perception wide. He’d sensed her approaching early this morning. A solitary figure making her way across the wolds, a knot in the uniformity of thought enveloping the county. Unhurried, untroubled. Not a threat like Spanton. But certainly a curiosity. Something about her was slightly out of kilter. He didn’t have a clue what.
So just before Cricklade’s lunch bell was rung, Luca had told Johan he would go and investigate the stranger. They still had newcomers drift in. Anyone prepared to work was given a place in the community.
The stranger was half a mile away now, dawdling along the main road in some kind of vehicle. Luca frowned. That’s a Romany caravan. The sight was a pleasing one, bringing up the old memories. Young girls pleased with his attentions, the coquettish and blatant. Their bodies yielding willingly, in fields of tall corn, secluded glades, darkened caravans. Year after year I proved my sexuality with them.
I?
He wrapped his horse’s reins around one of the spikes on the huge wrought iron gate, feet shuffling impatiently. The caravan’s driver must have been aware of his mood, yet her horse’s plodding gait never altered. It was a big sturdy horse, Luca saw while it was on the last couple of hundred yards, its piebald coat muddied and a wild mane in long tangles. He got the impression that it could have hauled the caravan right round the world without pausing.
It kept on coming, and Luca twitched slightly, knowing his nerve was being tested. He refused to give ground as the huge beast lumbered inexorably towards him. At the last minute, the woman sitting on the driver’s bench clucked softly, and pulled back on her slender reins. The caravan halted, rocking slightly on its lightweight spoke-sprung wheels. Carmitha applied the brake, and hopped down. She studied the man edging cautiously round Olivier. The horse whinnied at him.
“Greetings,” he said. Then gave a sudden start as he found himself staring into the twin barrels of her shotgun. Not for the first time, she regretted giving Louise Kavanagh her pump-action weapon.
“My name is Carmitha. I am not one of you. I am not a possessor. Is that a problem?”
“None!”
“Good. Believe me, I will know if it becomes one. I do have some of your powers.” She concentrated, and the seat of Luca’s trousers became very hot indeed.
He twisted about, frantically slapping at the fabric with his hands before it started smouldering. “Bloody hell.”
Carmitha smiled artfully. His thoughts were equally agitated, pastel whorls of colour that hung just outside her physical sight. I can read them, she told herself happily. Along with the rest of the magic.
The heat gone, Luca squared himself, recovering some dignity. “How did you . . .” His jaw moved silently. “Carmitha? Carmitha!”
She shouldered the shotgun, and brushed some loose strands of hair from her face. “I see part of you remembers. Then, no man would ever forget an afternoon in my bed.”
“Eh.” Luca blushed. The memories were certainly strong and colourful, with her vital flesh hot beneath his hands, the smell of her sweat, rapturous grunting. He felt the stirrings of an erection.
“Down boy,” she murmured laconically. “What do you call yourself these days?”
“Luca Comar.”
“I see. At the town they said you were the one in charge up here. Nice irony, that. But then you’re all reverting.”
“I am not reverting!” he said indignantly.
“Of course not.”
“How have you got our powers?”
“I’ve no idea. It must be something to do with this place you’ve taken us to. After all, you don’t have any contact with the beyond any more, do you?”
“No. Thank God.”
“So it must be the way everybody’s thoughts impinge on reality here. Congratulations, you made us all equal in the end. Grant must be real pissed about that.”
“If you say so,” he said disdainfully.
Carmitha had a throaty chuckle at the umbrage on show. “Never mind. Just as long as you lot realize you can’t turn me into a host for one of your own anymore, we’ll get along okay.”
“What do you mean, get along?”
“It’s very simple. I hate what you’ve done to these people, don’t be under any illusion about that. But there’s nothing I can do about it; nor you, now. So I might as well try and live with it, especially as you’re reverting and re-establishing everything that’s gone before.”
“We are not reverting,” he insisted. Yet there was the nagging worry about just how much of Grant Kavanagh’s personality he was employing these days. I must stop being so dependent on him, treat him as encyclopaedia, nothing more.
“Okay, you’re not reverting, you’re mellowing out. Call it whatever you want to salvage your dignity. I don’t care. Now, I’ve spent the last few weeks hiding out in the woods, and I’m getting very sick of cold rabbit for breakfast. I also haven’t had a hot bath for a while either. As you’re probably aware. So I’m looking for a place to stay over for a while. I’ll pull my weight, cooking, cleaning, pruning; whatever you like. It’s what I always do.”
Luca pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip. “You shouldn’t have been able to hide from us before. We’re aware of the whole world.”
“My people still have the earthlore your kind—both of you—have forgotten. When you brought magic back into the world, you made the old enchantments strong again, no longer just words mumbled by crazed old women.”
“Interesting. Are there any more of you?”
“You know how many caravans are here for the midsummer collection. You tell me.”
“I don’t suppose it matters. Even if all the Romanies survived, you don’t have the power to take us back to the universe we escaped from.”
“That idea really frightens you, doesn’t it?”
“Terrifies, actually. But then you can see that if you have got our ability.”
“Hummm. So, do I get to stay?”
He deliberately let his gaze meander over her leather jerkin, remembering the full breasts and flat belly which lay beneath. “Oh, I think I can find room for you.”
“Ha! Well don’t even think about that!”
“Who, me? I’m not Grant anymore.” He walked back to his horse, and took the reins off the gate.
Carmitha slid her shotgun into the leather holster beside the seat, and started to lead Olivier along the drive with Luca. The caravan wheels crunched loudly on the gravel. “Damn this humidity.” She wiped a hand across her brow, mussing her hair again. “We are going to have a winter, aren’t we?”
“I expect so. I’ll certainly make sure we have it on Kesteven, anyway. The land needs a winter.”
“Make sure! My God. What arrogance.”
“I prefer to call it practicality. We know what we need, and we make it happen. That’s one of the joys of this new life. There’s no fate any more. We control destiny now.”
“Right.” She looked round the grounds of the big stone manor house as they approached it. Surprised by how little had changed. But then the possessed tendency to establish glorious facades over everything they occupied was nullified here. When you already live in what was essentially a palace, you don’t need gaudy energistic trinkets to enhance your status. For some reason, the sight of the well maintained fields was comforting. The normality, I suppose. What we all crave.
Luca led her into the courtyard at the side of the house. The solid stone walls of the manor and the stable wings magnified the clatter which the hooves and caravan wheels made on the cobblestones. It was hotter in the confines of the courtyard, too. Something Carmitha’s small energistic ability could do little about. She took off her jerkin, ignoring the way Luca openly looked at the way her thin dress stuck to her skin.
One of the stables was a burnt-out hulk, with long sootmarks lashing up over the stone above each empty window. The centre of its slate roof had collapsed inwards. Carmitha whistled silently. Louise hadn’t been lying. Several groups of field labourers were sheltering from the radiant sky in open doorways. They were munching on big sandwiches and baguettes, passing bottles round. Carmitha could feel every pair of eyes on her as Luca took her over to the remaining stable.
“You can put Olivier in here,” he said. “I think the stalls are big enough. And there’s oats in the sacks at the far end. The hose is working as well, if you want to wash him down first.” It was something of which he seemed quite proud.
Carmitha could well imagine Grant’s Kavanagh’s reaction if the hose hadn’t been working. “Thank you, I’ll do that.”
“Okay. Are you going to sleep in the caravan?”
“I think that’s for the best, don’t you?”
“Sure. When you’re ready, go into the kitchen and ask for Susannah. She’ll find something for you to do.” He started to walk away.
“Grant . . . I mean Luca.”
“Yeah.”
Carmitha held her hand out. Light sparked sharply off the diamond ring. “She gave it to me.”
Luca stared at it in shocked recognition, and took a couple of fast paces towards her. He grabbed her hand and brought it up in front of his face. “Where are they?” he demanded hotly. “Damnit, where did they go? Are they safe?”
“Louise told me about the last time she saw you,” Carmitha said coolly. She glanced pointedly at the burnt out stable.
Luca clenched his fists, his face contorted in anguish. Every thought in his head was suffused with shame. “I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . . Oh, shit! Goddamn it. Where are they? I promise you, I swear, I am not going to hurt them. Just tell me.”
“I know. It was a crazy time. You’re ashamed and sorry, now. And you’d never harm a hair on their heads.”
“Yes.” He made an effort to regain control. “Look, we did terrible things. Brutal, inhuman things. To people, women, children. I know it was wrong. I knew the whole time I was doing it, and I still kept on doing them. But you don’t understand what was driving me. Driving all of us.” He shook an accusing finger, shouting. “You’ve never died. You’ve never been that insanely fucking desperate. Lucifer’s deal would have been the most blessed relief from that place we were imprisoned. I would have done that. I would have walked right through the gates of hell and begged to be let in if I’d just been given the chance. But we never were.” He crumpled, energy withering from his body. “Damnit. Please? I just want to know if they’re all right. Look, we’ve got some other non-possessed here, kids; and there’s more in the town. We look after them. We’re not total monsters.”
Carmitha looked round the courtyard, almost embarrassed. “Are you letting Grant know all this?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. I promise.”
“Okay. I don’t know exactly where they are. I left the pair of them at Bytham, they took the aeroambulance. I saw it fly away.”
“Aeroambulance?”
“Yes. It was Genevieve’s idea. They were trying to reach Norwich. They thought they’d be safe there.”
“Oh.” He held his horse tightly, almost as though he would fall without its support. His face brimmed with regret. “It would take me months to reach the city. That’s if there’s a ship that’ll take me. Damn!”
She put a tentative hand on his arm. “Sorry I’m not much more help. But that Louise is one tough girl. If anyone is going to avoid possession, it’ll be her.”
He stared at her incredulously, then gave a bitter laugh. “My Louise? Tough? She can’t even sugar her own grapefruit for breakfast. God, what a stupid bloody way to bring up children. Why did you do that? Why don’t you let them see the world for what it really is? Because they’re born to be ladies, our society protects them. I protect them, as every father should. I give them everything that’s right and decent in the world. Your society is shit , worthless, irrelevant; it doesn’t even qualify as a society; you’re playing out a medieval pageant, not living. Being pathetic and insignificant isn’t a way of defending yourself and everyone you love. People have to face up to what’s outside their own horizon. Nothing was outside, not until you demon freaks came and ruined the universe. We have lived here for centuries and made ourselves a good respectable home. And you scum ruined that. Ruined! You stole it from us, and now you’re trying to rebuild everything you say you hate. You’re not even bloody savages, you’re below that. No wonder hell didn’t want you.”
“Hey!” Carmitha shook him hard. “Hey, snap out of it.”
“Don’t touch me!” he screamed. His whole body was trembling violently. “Oh God.” He sank to his knees, hands pressed into his face. A wretched voice burbled out between clawed fingers. “I’m him, I’m him. There’s no difference any more. This isn’t what we wanted. Don’t you understand? This isn’t how life’s supposed to be here. This was meant to be paradise.”
“No such place.” She rubbed the top of his spine, trying to ease some of the badly knotted muscles. “You’ve just got to make the best of it. Like everybody else.”
His head bobbed weakly in what Carmitha supposed was acknowledgement. She decided this probably wasn’t the best time to tell him his dear precious Louise was pregnant.