A sensation of puzzlement flashed between the immotile and its motiles as the burst of thoughts Kazimir had elicited faded from its main consciousness. Realization followed. It sent a specific code to the scuttle bomb. Kazimir wasn’t quite quick enough to prevent it. Now that he knew what to look for, he quickly manifested a function into the remaining ships that disabled the scuttle in all of them.
“Do you have sufficient evidence now?” he asked ANA:Governance.
“I do. The Accelerators have acted recklessly. In supporting the Ocisens and manipulating Living Dream, they have violated the principles under which I was established. I will convene a suspension conclave.”
“They will know the deterrence fleet has intercepted the Ocisen fleet even though they remain unaware of my nature. They must assume the worst, that I have uncovered their exploitation of the Primes.”
“That would be logical. However, there is little their agents can do. Once suspension is enacted, their operations will be exposed to full scrutiny and neutralized.”
Kazimir reviewed the starships as they drifted passively. “Nonetheless, I still don’t see what the Accelerators hoped to achieve, outside crude political manipulation. Ilanthe is smarter than that. I would feel more comfortable being on hand during the hearing. I will return immediately.”
“What about the Ocisen fleet? I thought you were going to monitor them.”
“They are incapable of causing any harm. When the commander realizes that, they will have no option but to return home. Our Capital-class ships can assume observation duties.”
“The defeat to the commander’s pride is considerable. It may not want to return to the empire.”
“That will be something for the Capital ships to determine. I am coming back to Sol.”
“As you wish.”
Kazimir manifested a communication function and broadcast a simple message to the ships. “Attention the Chatfield personalities, this is the Commonwealth Navy deterrence fleet. We know what you are and what you intended. Do not attempt any further suicide bids. Capital-class ships will rendezvous with you shortly. You will be taken into navy custody.”
With that, Kazimir withdrew his manifested functions and headed back toward the Sol system.
Justine: Year Three Reset
Exoimage medical icons leaped out of the darkness to surround Justine Burnelli’s consciousness. She’d seen the exact same set of readouts once before.
“Oh, man,” she grunted in shock and delight. “It worked.” She tried to laugh, but her body was resolutely refusing to cooperate, insisting it had just spent three years in suspension rather than … Well, actually she wasn’t sure how long it had taken to reset the Void back to this moment in time.
The medical chamber lid peeled back, and she looked around the Silverbird’s cabin again. Really, again. She sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Status?” she asked the smartcore. A new batch of exoimage icons and displays sprang up. They confirmed that the Silverbird had been under way for three years and was now decelerating hard. Something was approaching.
“Ho yeah,” she murmured in satisfaction as the starship’s sensors swept across the visitor. It was the Skylord, vacuum wings fully extended.
As it drew close, she examined the weird ovoid core once more, still unable to decide if the fantastic folds of crystalline fabric were actually moving or if she was seeing surface refraction patterns. The Silverbird’s sensors couldn’t get an accurate lock on the substance.
As before, she settled back down in the lounge’s longest couch and reached for the Skylord with her longtalk.
“Hello,” she said.
“You are most welcome,” the Skylord replied.
So far, so the same. Let’s see– “I have come to this universe to achieve fulfillment.”
“All who come here strive for that moment.”
“Will you help me?”
“Your fulfillment can be achieved only by yourself.”
“I know this. But humans such as myself reach fulfillment by participating in our own society. Please take me to Querencia, the solid world where my kind live.”
“My kindred are not aware of any thoughts akin to your species anywhere in the universe. None are left.”
“This I also know. However, I am simply the first of a new generation of my species to reach this place. Soon millions of us will be here. We wish to live and reach fulfillment on the same world humans matured on before. Do you know where it is? There was a great city there, which was not of this place. Do you remember guiding human souls from that world to the Heart?” Justine tensed up on the couch. This was the critical question.
“I remember that world,” the Skylord said. “I guided many from that place to the Heart.”
“Please take me there. Please let me reach fulfillment.”
“I will do so.”
Justine was acutely aware of the gravity in the cabin changing somehow. The smartcore reported an alarming outbreak of glitches right across the starship. She didn’t pay attention; she was feeling horribly dizzy. Her mouth was watering as a prelude to being sick, and she couldn’t focus on the curving bulkhead wall, it was moving so fast. She hurriedly jammed her eyelids shut, which only made the effect worse, so she forced her eyes open again and concentrated hard on the medical chamber directly ahead of her. Secondary routines in her macrocellular clusters began to edit the erratic impulses her inner ears were slamming into her brain, countering the appalling vertigo. The sensation began to abate a little. She checked the sensor images. “Holy crap.”
The Silverbird was rolling as its trajectory curved around; it was caught in the wake of the Skylord like a piece of flotsam. The curving patterns contained within the Skylord’s crystalline sheets were undulating wildly as its vacuum wings swirled like an iridescent mist across the gentle glow of the Void’s nebulae. All she could think of was a bird flapping frantically. Then the course alteration was over. The Silverbird’s sensors reported a noticeable Doppler shift in the light from the stars. They were accelerating at hundreds of gees, just as the Skylord had on their first encounter.
This first encounter, she corrected herself. Or should that be … In the end she decided human grammar hadn’t quite caught up with the Void’s abilities.
Whatever strange temporal adjustment the Skylord had made to facilitate their acceleration ended soon afterward. Ahead of them, the few stars shining amid the nebulae had acquired a blue tinge to their spectrum, and those behind stretched down into the red. The Silverbird’s smartcore determined that they were now traveling at about point nine three lightspeed. On board, glitches were reducing to acceptable levels, and her vertigo faded away.
She let out a huge sigh of relief, then grinned ruefully. “Thanks, Dad,” she said out loud. Trust him to figure out what to do. Her good humor faded as she acknowledged that others would be coming into the Void; that damned Pilgrimage would also go a-hunting for Querencia. So has the Second Dreamer agreed to lead them? And how the hell are they ever going to get past the Raiel in the Gulf?
Gore had told her to concentrate on getting to Makkathran, so she’d just have to trust that he knew what he was doing, which didn’t exactly inspire her with confidence. He’d have a plan of some kind, but it probably wouldn’t be one she approved of.
No, forget probably; it just won’t be.
Not that she had a lot of alternatives.
Once they were under way, the Silverbird’s smartcore plotted their course vector. Justine examined the projection, which extended a sharp green line past a purple and scarlet nebula shaped like a slipper orchid. The nebula was eleven light-years distant, and wherever they were heading for beyond that was invisible, blocked by nebula light and pyres of black interstellar dust.
After breakfast and a bout of exercise in the ship’s gym, Justine sat back on the couch and longtalked the Skylord.
“How long will it take for us to reach the solid world we’re traveling to?”
“Unt
il we reach it.”
She almost smiled; it really was like talking to a five-year-old savant. “The world orbits its star at a constant rate. How many times will it have gone around by the time we arrive?” Then all she had to worry about was if the Skylord even had a concept of numbers; after all, why would a spaceborne creature need to develop math?
“The world you seek will have gone around its star thirty-seven times by the time we arrive there.”
Crap! And a Querencia year is a lot longer than an Earth year. Don’t their months last for something like forty days? “I understand. Thank you.”
“Will others of your kind come into the universe soon?”
“The one your kindred spoke to, the one who asked you to let me in; she will lead them here. Listen for her.”
“All of my kindred do.”
That sent a slight chill down Justine’s spine. “I would like to sleep for the rest of the flight.”
“As you wish.”
“If anything happens, I will waken.”
“What will happen?”
“I don’t know. But if anything changes, I will be awake to talk to you about it.”
“Change in this universe is finding fulfillment. If you are asleep, you will not reach fulfillment.”
“I see. Thank you.”
She spent a further half day getting ready, checking various systems, loading in a whole series of instructions about what constituted a reason for the smartcore to bring her back out of suspension. In the end she acknowledged she was just killing time. The last thing she did as she got undressed was shut down the confluence nest, ensuring that there would be no more of her amplified dreams leaking out to warp reality with such unexpected consequences. That brought back the one thought she’d been trying to avoid. Her mind lingered on the Kazimir she’d abandoned on the slopes of the ersatz Mount Herculaneum. All that was left of him now was a pattern in the Void’s memory layer. It wasn’t fair to have lived for such a short time only to be unmade.
I will make you real again, Justine promised her poignant recollection of him. She lay down in the medical cabinet and activated the suspension function.
Hunger and a nagging pain woke Araminta. At first she was woefully drowsy as she lay on the motel bed. Bright daylight was shining around the window blinds, warming the still air. Her stiff muscles protested as she tried to shuffle herself to a sitting position. Every part of her ached. Her feet throbbed. When she pulled the duvet aside to look at them, she actually winced at the sight.
“Oh, Ozzie.”
Well! It was no good just lying about feeling sorry for herself; the first thing was to get her feet cleaned up a bit. She eased her legs over the side of the bed and slowly stripped off her filthy clothes. Without doubt, they were ruined; she’d have to get rid of them.
The room had a cybersphere node beside the bed so old that it was probably the one installed as soon as the drycoral had finished growing into shape. Araminta started tapping away on its small keyboard, using the new account she’d opened at the Spanish Crepes office. Miledeep Water didn’t have a touchdown mall, but Stoneline Street at its center had a plethora of small stores that sold everything she needed. One by one she accessed their semisentient management programs and placed her orders, adding the items to the delivery service she’d hired.
She ran the bathwater at just below body temperature, then sat on the side and gingerly eased her feet in. The water soaked away the worst of the dirt and dried blood, leaving them looking slightly improved. She was letting them dry when there was a knock on the door. Thankfully, the motel supplied toweling robes. She’d assumed the delivery service would be a courier case floating along on regrav, all nice and impersonal. Instead, once she’d hobbled over to the door, a young teenage girl called Janice was waiting outside, wearing a cap with the delivery company’s logo and carrying a couple of large shoulder bags.
Araminta was thankful her hair was still all messed up and the threadbare robe was a ridiculous white and red stripe. Even if the girl knew all about the Second Dreamer, she’d never recognize her in this state.
“I think Ranto was pulling into the park out front,” Janice said as she handed the bags over to Araminta.
“Ranto?”
“You ordered takeaway from Smoky James? He runs delivery for them.”
“Ah. Yes. Right.” Araminta couldn’t work out if Janice was angling for a tip. It said a lot about Miledeep Water’s economy that they used people instead of bots for a service like this. In any case, Araminta could remember how only half a year ago she depended on the tips at Nik’s, so she produced the cash coin, which was obviously the right thing to do as Janice smiled in gratitude.
Ranto appeared before the door was even shut, handing over the five thermplastic boxes of food from Smoky James. That immediately kicked up a dilemma. Araminta was desperate to use some of the medical kit she’d bought, but the smell wafting out of the food boxes was too much for her stomach; she could actually hear it churning. She sat back on the bed and kept her feet off the floor as she started to open the boxes. There were pancakes in berry syrup and cream, followed by an all-day breakfast of smoked bacon, local chulfy eggs scrambled, hash browns, baked galow, and fried mushrooms; the drinks box had iced orange juice and a liter flask of English breakfast tea, and she finished with toasted muffins. By the time she’d finished eating, her feet didn’t seem to be aching quite so badly as before. Nonetheless, she applied the antiseptic cleaner, wincing at how much it stung, then sprayed both feet with artificial skin, sealing in the abused flesh. When she finished, she just curled up on the mattress where she was and went straight back to sleep.
It was dark when she woke, leaving her slightly disoriented. Something somewhere wasn’t quite right, and her subconscious was worrying away at it. She didn’t think it was another dream connection to the Skylord; at least she couldn’t remember having one during the last sleep. But on the plus side, she didn’t feel remotely hungry anymore. Time to think about me.
The bath had spar nozzles that didn’t work. Even so, she let it fill to the brim and poured in the scented soaps she’d bought. While it was running, she went back to the cybersphere node and laboriously typed in a request for information on Oscar Monroe. The antiquated search software pulled a list of references out of the unisphere; there were eight and a half million of them. The search hadn’t gone into deep cache databases.
“Great Ozzie,” she muttered, acknowledging just how much she missed her u-shadow, which would have sorted the information down to something useful in half a second. Another minute typing in new parameters and she’d filtered the list down to biographical details verified to the Commonwealth general academic standard—always a good starting point. That took it down to one point two million.
By then the bath was full. She got in and wallowed in the bubbles as the dirt slowly soaked off. Reading up on Oscar would have to wait a while, but at least she knew he had to be important. He hadn’t been lying about that. When she got out, she felt a whole lot better.
Araminta tipped the remaining contents of the bags onto the bed and started examining the clothes. Most of them had come from a camping store, which had provided her with practical hiking boots that came halfway up her shins. When she tried them on, they were impressively comfortable. The dark brown jeans were tough and waterproof, which raised some interesting questions given that she was on a desert continent. She shrugged into a simple black singlet, then put a loose burgundy T-shirt on top of that. A navy-blue fleece was similar to the one she’d brought with her, except this one was waterproof and the semiorganic fibers were temperature-regulated. She needed that function; even after sunset Miledeep Water’s climate was still baking from the desert air gusting over the ridge. All the other accessories—the knapsack, the water bottle (complete with manual filter pump), solar-store cooker, multipurpose blade, micro tent, gloves, thermal-regulated body stocking, hygiene pack, first-aid kit—meant she could now walk wherever and whenever
she wanted. The notion made her smile grimly at the collection. Buying the gear had been instinctive. She knew Miledeep Water was only ever going to be a way station, though Chobamba itself might turn out to be a possibility.
She ran a hand back through her still-drying hair, suddenly unsure once more. Sitting worrying in a motel room wasn’t exactly choosing her own destiny. She sealed the fleece and went out to see what Miledeep Water had to offer by way of nightlife.
After half an hour walking along the nearly deserted streets she had her answer: not much. A few bars were open, along with some restaurants as well as several all-day autostores that were handy for people on a strict budget. Despite its location and the charming buildings, Miledeep Water was too much like Langham for her to be at ease. Small town with a matching attitude.
The emotions emerging from the gaiafield of a bar down by the waterfront attracted her. The people in there were rejoicing over something. As she drew close, she could hear some bad singing coming from the open door. The gaiafield emissions were stronger and more defined as she walked up to sparkly holographic light shining through the windows. Araminta allowed the images and sensations to wash through her mind, experiencing Justine waking up back in the Silverbird. The essence of her conversation with the Skylord reverberated through Araminta’s skull, enhanced by the rapture of those in the bar.
Justine is on her way to Makkathran.
Realization of exactly who was in the bar made the tentative smile fade from Araminta’s face: Living Dream followers, celebrating the latest development in their favor. Making very sure none of her bitter disappointment leaked out into the gaiafield to alert them, Araminta turned around and slunk away. That there were followers in Miledeep Water didn’t surprise her; they were on every External world in the Greater Commonwealth, and even the Central worlds weren’t immune. She wondered briefly what those in the bar would have done if she’d walked in, held her prisoner or fallen at her feet?
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 151