“Yeah, only Ozzie would treat a friendship like that.”
“Like what?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Bradley Johansson told her. “The point is that the galaxy has a great many communion-style regions or effects or whatever. They’re all slightly different, but they can interact when the circumstances are right. Which is like once in a green supernova.”
“So you’re like some kind of conduit between me and the Skylord?”
“It’s a little more complex than that. You connect because within the communion you have similarity.”
“Similarity? With a Skylord?”
“Consider your mental state after your separation. You were lost, lonely, desperate for purpose.”
“Yes, thank you, I get the idea,” she said testily.
“The Skylord also searches; that is its purpose. The souls it used to guide to the Heart have all gone, so now it and its kindred await new souls. Their quest ranges from their physical flight within the Void to awareness of mental states. Somehow, the two of you bridged the abyss between your universe and its.”
“Is this how humans got in originally?”
“Who knows? Before Justine, nobody had actually seen the Void open up. It didn’t for the Raiel armada; they forced their way through. But humans were never the first it accepted. Occasionally we have felt other species flourish briefly within. Always, the Void has consumed them.”
“So it has to be aware of the outside universe?” she pondered.
“In some fashion it must be. This is philosophical speculation rather than substantiation. We don’t think it recognizes physical reality, not outside. Perhaps it considers the universe beyond its boundary nothing but a spawning ground for mind, rationality, which is what the nucleus absorbs as the boundary absorbs mass.”
“Edeard and the people of Makkathran say that the Void was created by Firstlives.”
“Yeah,” Clouddancer growled. “Such a thing cannot be natural.”
“So where are they now?”
“Nobody knows. Though you, our friend’s daughter, may be the one who finds out.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “Not really. There’s someone who might be able to help, one of ANA’s agents. He’s already helped me once: Oscar Monroe.”
Bradley Johansson sat in front of her, his tongue quivering fast at the center of his mouth cavity. “I know Oscar. I fought with him in the Starflyer War. He is a good man. Trust him. Find him, though your path will not be easy after this.”
“I know. But I’ve made my mind up. I won’t lead Living Dream through the boundary, no matter what.”
“That is the choice we knew you would make, daughter of our friend. Such worthiness is why we came here to know you.”
“Tell her the rest,” Clouddancer said gruffly.
Araminta gave him an alarmed glance. “What? What else is there?”
“There is something out there, something new that emerged into our universe as ANA fell to treachery,” Bradley Johansson said. “Something much worse than Living Dream. It is waiting for you.”
“What?”
“Its full nature remains veiled, for we can sense it only faintly. But what we glimpsed was greatly troubling. Humans have a dark side, as do most living sentients, and this thing, this embodiment of intent, has come directly out of that darkness. It is an evil thing; this we do know.”
“What sort of thing?” she asked fearfully.
“A contraption, a machine whose purpose is cold and malevolent. It cares nothing for the spirit which all life houses, for laughter and song; even tears it derides. And if it desires you, that can be for only one reason.”
To get into the Void,” she realized.
“For what reason we know not, yet we fear the worst,” Bradley Johansson said. “It wishes to meddle with the galaxy’s destiny, to impose itself upon the reality of every star. This cannot come to pass.”
“You must summon that which is most noble from your race, daughter of our friend,” Clouddancer said. “Together you will make your stand against the dread future which this thing craves for us all. It must never reach the Void. The two of them must not become one.”
“How?” she implored. “How in Ozzie’s name do you expect me to do such a thing? This is what the Commonwealth Navy is for. They have incredible weapons; they can stop this creature-thing. I don’t know what it looks like, where it is …”
Bradley Johansson reached out and took Araminta’s hand in his own. “If that is what you believe, if that is truly what must be done, then that is what you must achieve.”
“I thought I was just going to go into hiding while the factions and Living Dream fought it out. That’s what I’d made my mind up to do.”
“Our destiny is never clear. Nonetheless, this is yours.”
“Can’t I just stay here?”
His leathery fingers bent around to stroke the top of her palm. “For as long as you want, our friend’s daughter.”
Araminta nodded forlornly. “Which will be no time at all.”
“You have strength, you have courage, your spirit truly shines out, as did Mellanie’s. Such a beautiful light cannot easily be quenched.”
“Oh, Ozzie!”
“What is it you wish to do?” Clouddancer asked. His tail flicked about restlessly. Outside the tent the Silfen were still, waiting for her answer.
“A proper meal, a decent sleep, and then I’ll be on my way,” she promised them. “I’ll do what I can.”
As one, the Silfen in the tent tipped their heads back and opened their mouths wide. A mellifluent chant arose as those outside took up the call; lyrical and uplifting, it swirled around her, making her smile in acknowledgment. It was their tribute to her, their gratitude. For now she finally realized the Silfen were frightened, scared their wondrous free-roaming life might be brought to an end by the ominous thing human folly had birthed. Yes, I’ll do what I can.
Marius regarded the image of Ranto with something approaching amused contempt. The gangly teenager was suddenly the second most important news item in the Commonwealth; every unisphere show was featuring him. Reporters had arrived in Miledeep Water soon after the faction agents. It hadn’t taken anyone very long to discover that Araminta had stayed at the StarSide Motel. The nervous manager, Ragnar, had come out of hiding as soon as reporters started offering big money for his story, which sadly wasn’t much, mostly how he’d hidden in his kitchen as weapons-enriched agents poured through his precious StarSide Motel, hunting the Second Dreamer.
Ignored by the agents, Marius mentally corrected the story.
But Ranto was the real find as far as the news production teams were concerned. The last person in Miledeep Water to see and speak to the Second Dreamer herself.
“She was really pretty,” he was saying gormlessly as he stood in front of the StarSide reception, surrounded by over a dozen reporters. “Not what I was expecting. I’d already met her once before, that afternoon. She was sweet, you know? Gave a good tip when I delivered her food.”
“Did she say where she was going?” a reporter asked.
“Naah, she just bought my bike and headed off to the Silfen path. Imagine that. The Second Dreamer is riding my old bike between worlds.”
“And still our race wonders why we wish to accelerate our evolution,” Ilanthe observed.
Marius didn’t respond. He remained annoyed at the way he’d been punished over Chatfield. But now it looked as though his climb back to grace had begun. Tellingly, it was Ilanthe herself who’d called him as he was checking operations on Fanallisto. Semisentient scruitineers had been monitoring the Delivery Man since his miserable, pleading call to Marius. Soon after that, the Delivery Man had been contacted by another survivor of the Conservative Faction, using an encrypted call that blocked any tracking. The scruitineers had used the spaceport’s civic sensors to observe him taking a capsule out to Lady Rasfay. Then the yacht launched with the owner’s authorization, which was interesti
ng given that he’d been left lying naked and unconscious alongside his young Firstlife mistress on the landing pad.
Ilanthe had been curious to know where the Delivery Man was heading and who he was meeting up with. Not anxious—there was no urgency in her call—but given that Araminta had unexpectedly fooled everyone yet again by somehow getting off Chobamba, monitoring the remaining Conservatives was prudent.
Marius knew where the Delivery Man had to be going. If there was anything left on Fanallisto, it was small-time, whereas the ultradrive starship was still waiting at Purlap spaceport. Marius had flown there right away.
And he’d been proved right. His own starship had detected the Lady Rasfay approaching Purlap, and he’d called Ilanthe immediately. Confirming his passage to redemption, she responded in person rather than through Valean or Neskia.
“Do you want me to exterminate him?” Marius asked. His stealthed starship was holding altitude a hundred kilometers directly above Purlap spaceport. It wasn’t a particularly risky position; there were no more commercial flights in or out. Lady Rasfay was rather conspicuous simply by flying in.
Ranto was shoved to a peripheral aspect. Marius’s starship’s sensors showed him the Lady Rasfay landing on the spaceport’s naked rock close to the preposterous pink terminal building. The Delivery Man walked down the airlock’s stairs, bracketed by targeting graphics. Two hundred meters away, the ultradrive was parked on the rock where he’d left it, a featureless dark purple ovoid resting on three stumpy legs.
“No,” Ilanthe said. “At this point we need information. Until we have Araminta I need to know what the Conservatives are capable of. Follow him; find out how many there are left and what they’re doing.”
“Understood.” Marius avoided saying anything else or letting his satisfaction show. But the unusually cautious way Ilanthe was responding to the situation was indicative of how everyone was being wrong-footed by Araminta. Who could have known she was capable of using the Silfen paths? But her uncommon abilities did explain a lot, possibly even how she’d become the Second Dreamer in the first place.
He settled back on his couch and watched the Delivery Man hurry over to the ultradrive starship.
The Delivery Man stood underneath the starship and tried not to let his exasperation short-circuit the verification process. Understandably, the authorization procedure to gain flight command of the ultradrive’s smartcore was thorough; the ship was a hugely valuable asset, and the Conservative Faction wasn’t about to leave it vulnerable to anyone.
He hadn’t been able to sleep for the whole flight, nor had he eaten. The Lady Rasfay was so damned slow compared to the ships he was used to. That, coupled with the stress of losing his family, of Araminta giving everyone the slip again, and his not really knowing who the “executive” was or if this really was some kind of Accelerator ensnarement, hadn’t done his nerves any good whatsoever.
Finally, the smartcore admitted he was on the approved list of people allowed to fly the ship and granted him flight command status. The Delivery Man breathed out heavily and ordered the airlock open. Directly above him the base of the starship sank inward and produced a dark cavity. Gravity inverted, and he slipped up into the small spherical chamber. The floor contracted beneath his feet, and the apex opened. He rose into the hemispherical cabin.
Systems came back on line as the smartcore readied the ship for flight. Everything was functional; the formidable armaments were all ready. The Delivery Man ordered a single fat chair for himself and sat down gratefully as it extruded from the floor. With the ship under his command, he was a player again; it bestowed a lot of confidence.
He called the “executive” on a secure link.
“You made it, then,” his unknown ally said.
“Sure.”
“And Araminta’s skipped off down the Silfen paths. You know, I’d genuinely like to meet her one day. She’s made complete idiots out of the most powerful organizations in the Greater Commonwealth. You’ve got to admire that.”
“She’s been lucky,” the Delivery Man commented. “That’s going to run out.”
“People make their own luck.”
“Whatever.”
“Is the ship ready?”
The Delivery Man took a moment before answering. “I’m sorry, but in the end my family is all that matters to me. I think it would be best if I went after Marius.”
“He’s already left Fanallisto. His ship took off about fifteen minutes after Lady Rasfay launched. You maybe see a connection there, supersecret agent?”
“I’ll find him.”
“Not alone, you won’t. Besides, I’m the best chance for your family’s survival.”
“I don’t know what you are or where your loyalties lie.”
“I said I would give you proof, and I will. Here are the coordinates. Come and get it.”
The Delivery Man studied the data that arrived. “The Leo Twins? What’s there?”
“Hope. And maybe just some salvation thrown in for good measure. Come on, sonny, what have you got to lose? It’s going to take you a few hours at most to get there. If you don’t like what you find, then you’re free to turn around and launch yourself into your whole honorable quest thing. I think you owe the Conservative Faction this much, don’t you?”
The Delivery Man regarded the ridiculous coordinate for a long time. The only possible thing at the Leo Twins would be some kind of secret Conservative Faction facility. After all, he reasoned, they had to make their ultradrive ships somewhere. In which case, why would they need this ship back there? “Can’t you just level with me?”
“Okay, then: As far as I know, I’m the only one with a valid plan to save the galaxy from Ilanthe and the Void.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Does ANA have a plan, or, rather, did it? Does the navy? Do any of the other faction survivors? Maybe you wanna go bold and ask MorningLightMountain? Release the big fella from behind that barrier and it’ll certainly wipe us out: Problem solved if you’re looking at the overall big picture. Or … oh, no, don’t tell me you think the President and the Senate will produce a way out. You’re going to entrust the fate of the galaxy to politicians?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Just stop whining and get yourself over to the Leo Twins. You’ll have your answers there, I promise.”
“Just tell me.”
“Can’t. Don’t trust you enough.”
“What?”
“The stakes are too high. I can’t predict what you’ll do at this stage. And I do have other options if you fail me. Not as good as you, though. That means the best chance your Lizzie and the kids have is you and me teaming up. Something you might want to think on.”
The link closed.
“Shit!” The Delivery Man thumped his fist against the chair’s resilient cushioning. He knew he didn’t really have a choice. “Take us to the Leo Twins,” he told the smartcore.
From a nightside orbit, Darklake City was a blaze of light over a hundred fifty kilometers across, infested with strange lightless sections where the lakes and the steepest mountains had repelled any attempts at development throughout its nearly fifteen-hundred-year human history. Sited in the subtropical zone of Oaktier, the capital was a monument to both progress and classicalism. Its ancient core district of crystal skyscrapers and vermilion-shaded condo-pyramids had flourished as the world became Higher, with individual buildings maintained or expanded as new materials and techniques became available. Residents from the first-era Commonwealth would still have recognized the center, even though the scale of the structures had increased dramatically. Outside the old hub, newer suburbs reflected the whimsey of modern architecture and a lack of industrial or commercial districts, producing stretches of parkland where homes and various community buildings sprawled amid the vibrant flora. Citizens continued to celebrate their original Pacific Basin ancestry with strong traditions in seasports and enthusiasm for the planet’s ecology. Such factors gave Oaktier a
reputation of being altogether less conventional and formal than the majority of Inner worlds, where Higher culture seemed to be nothing other than an endless series of seminars and debates on public policy. As such, Oaktier tended to draw a fair proportion of new citizens from the External worlds as they began their inward migration and transformation to Higher.
Somehow, Digby didn’t think his adversary was beginning the conversion to Higher culture. The starship he’d followed from Ellezelin sank through the upper atmosphere, heading down to the smallest of Darklake City’s three spaceports. The craft had come out of hyperspace without any stealth and filed a standard landing request with the planetary spaceflight authority.
By contrast, Digby kept the Columbia505 a thousand kilometers above the equator and employed its full stealth suite to ward off the local defense agency’s sensors. The planetary government, in all its thousands of local committees, had come to a uniform decision to go to a grade one alert status. Three River-class warships were in patrol orbit half a million kilometers out, ready to respond to any perceived threat. Fortunately, they hadn’t detected the Columbia505, either.
“The Accelerators must have an active team down there,” Digby reported to Paula as the Accelerators’ starship landed. “Do you want me to contact our local office for support?”
“We’re long past a tussle between enriched agents to achieve our objectives,” she told him. “You’ll have to follow the ship’s pilot through scruitineers in the planetary cybersphere. That will leave you positioned to apply firepower from orbit to achieve our objectives.”
“We have objectives?”
“Yes. One. And it’s very simple: No one else must acquire Araminta. No one. No matter what the cost.”
“Ozzie! You want me to shoot into an urban area?”
“If that’s what’s required. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I don’t believe she’ll ever come to Oaktier.”
“Then why is the Accelerator agent here?”
“Laril, Araminta’s ex-husband, is currently on the inward migration. He’s living in Darklake City.”
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 161