Paula experienced a strange little frisson of relief at the statement. A very old puzzle finally solved. ‘Did the Raiel build the Dark Fortress? We always thought they were the same as the DF spheres at Centurion Station.’
‘Yes. It is a unit from our Galactic Core garrison. They have several functions; the force field is only one.’
‘You told us the Anomine imprisoned the Dyson Pair.’
‘They did. We loaned them the units. We produced legions of them after our invasion of the Void failed. As your species correctly postulated, they are the galaxy’s final line of defence against a catastrophic expansion phase.’
‘So the Raiel can stop an expansion phase?’
‘That is something we will not know until the moment arises. The scheme was the best we could produce, but it remains untested.’
‘Then it really is vital that Araminta doesn’t lead the Pilgrimage into the Void?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will do everything I can, you know that.’
‘I know, Paula.’
‘I may need help.’
‘Whatever I can provide, you have only to ask.’
*
Eventually the forest gave way to a crumpled swathe of grassy land which stretched away for miles to a shoreline guarded by thick dunes. The rich blue ocean beyond sparkled as the sunlight skipped across its gentle waves. Araminta smiled mournfully at the sight, knowing she’d never be able to run across the beach and dive into those splendid clear waters. The big quadruped beast she was riding snorted and shook its huge head, as if sharing her resentment.
‘Don’t worry, the whole beauties of nature thing gets tedious after a while,’ Bradley Johansson said. He was riding on a similar beast to one side of her, while Clouddancer plodded along behind.
‘After how long?’ Araminta queried.
‘Millennia,’ Clouddancer growled out. ‘Nature produces so much that is worthy of admiration. Its glory never ends.’
Bradley Johansson pursed his round mouth and produced a shrill trumpeting sound. After a day and a half a day riding with the pair since they left the festival by the loch, Araminta had concluded this was his chuckle.
‘Great,’ she muttered. The fresh breeze from the ocean was invigorating, countering her falling mood. They were approaching a narrow fold in the land, one filled with small trees and dense scrub bushes. There was a pool at the head of the slope, producing a tiny brook which trickled away down through the trees. She reined in her mount just short of the water, and swung her leg over the saddle so she could slide down its thick flank. It waited patiently as she performed her inelegant dismount. Bradley Johansson came over to help unstrap her backpack. She never actually saw him climb down, though she was sure his wings weren’t big enough to work in a standard gravity field.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked sympathetically.
‘Nervous as hell.’
‘Your spirit will prevail,’ Clouddancer proclaimed. He was still sitting on his own mount, tail curled up at one side, wings rustling in mild agitation. His head was held high as he looked towards the coast. If he’d been a human, Araminta would have said he was hunting out a scent in the wind.
‘I have to,’ she said, and meant it.
‘I am proud of you, friend’s daughter,’ Bradley Johansson said. ‘You encompass all that is good and strong with our species. You remind me why I gave everything I had to save us.’
Araminta was suddenly very busy with the clip around her waist. ‘I’ll do my best, I promise. I won’t let you down.’
‘I know.’
When she looked up, Bradley Johansson was holding a small pendant on a silver chain. The jewel was encased in a fine silver mesh. A pretty blue light was glimmering inside like captured starlight. He placed it round her neck. ‘I name you that which you already are, Araminta. Friend of Silfen.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. Ridiculously, her eyes were watering up. She smiled over at Clouddancer, who bowed so solemnly towards her it left her feeling hopelessly inadequate. ‘Do you have any suggestions for your new Friend?’ she asked the pair of them, hating how weak she sounded. ‘My ex-husband said he’d help me, but he’s not quite the most reliable of people even if his heart is in the right place.’
‘Laril isn’t independent any more,’ Bradley Johansson told her. ‘He can still offer advice that would be helpful, but it is not his own.’
‘Oh. Right.’ How do you know this? Which was a stupid question, she was always allowing herself to be misled by the apparent carefree child-like lifestyle the Silfen followed. There is more to them than this, a lot more. ‘So it’s Oscar, then? Will he be able to help me with the machine-thing you warned me about?’
Clouddancer and Bradley Johansson exchanged a look. ‘Probably not,’ Clouddancer said. ‘Nobody really understands what it is.’
‘Somebody must know, or be able to work it out,’ she said.
‘That is for you to find, Friend Araminta.’
‘Oh come on! The whole galaxy is at stake here, including your own existence. Just for once cut the mystic crap and give me some practical help.’
Bradley Johansson made his shrill chuckling noise again. ‘There is someone you could ask, someone who may be smart enough to work things out for you. He was a phenomenal physicist, once. And he was named Silfen Friend.’
‘Yeah, and look what he did with that most honourable of gifts,’ Clouddancer growled.
‘Of course he did,’ Bradley Johansson said, sounding amused. ‘That is what makes him who he is. That is why he is our Friend.’
‘Who?’ Araminta demanded.
‘Ozzie,’ Clouddancer sighed.
‘Ozzie? Really? I thought . . . Is he still alive?’
‘Very much so,’ Bradley Johansson said.
‘Well, where the hell is he?’
‘Outside the Commonwealth. Oscar can get you there.’ He paused, letting out a sorrowful whistle. ‘Probably. Remember, Friend Araminta, you must walk with caution from now on.’
‘Yeah yeah. I’ll be careful. That part you can really depend on.’
‘Come back to us afterwards,’ Clouddancer said.
‘Of course I will.’ There was that tiny ripple of doubt in her thoughts which she swiftly squashed. This is all so massive. Visiting Ozzie! For . . . Ozzie’s sake.
Bradley Johansson took her hand, and they walked towards the top of the little wooded ravine. Araminta blew out a long breath and strode forward confidently. Somewhere up ahead of her, winding through the trees and thick bushes she could sense the path to Francola Wood stirring at her approach.
‘A last word for you, if I may,’ Bradley Johansson said. ‘Anger is a fine heat, one which you are now experiencing. Anger from being put in this position through no real fault of your own, anger at the stupidity of Living Dream. This anger behind your determination will power you at the start, allowing you to be the force you want to be. Then there will come a moment when you look round and see all you have carried before you. That is the most dangerous time, the time when you can lose faith in yourself and falter. That cannot happen, Friend Araminta. Keep your anger, fuel it, let it carry you forward. See this through to the final bitter end no matter what. That is the only way to take others with you, be a force of nature, the proverbial unstoppable force. You can do this. You have so much in you.’
She smiled bashfully. ‘I will. I promise. I can keep focused.’ Like you wouldn’t believe.
Bradley Johansson stopped. A four-fingered hand ushered her onward with a grand gesture as his wings extended fully. He made an imposing figure, poised between two species, two styles of life. She turned her back to him and strode forwards, forbidding any doubt to gain refuge in her mind. Ahead of her the path began to open.
*
The building had been a single house, once, designed as an extravagant ten-bedroom residence for a wealthy owner, with expansive reception rooms opening out on to a big garden that dropped down to the crowded forest of dapol
trees which marked the city boundary. There was even a teardrop-shaped swimming pool underneath a spectacular white wing-roof. It fitted in perfectly with the Francola district’s original ethos as an enclave of successful, wealthy residents who would enjoy a modicum of privacy afforded by the tree-hedges between their imposing properties. A taste of the countryside inside the city.
After a promising start, the district had drifted on Colwyn City’s economic tides. The houses fell from fashion, and were snapped up by developers to be turned into even more stylish apartments. Redevelopment took the district further downmarket, depressing prices still more. The people who rented the new apartments and studios tended to be the kind who stuck with a job for a while, which made them long-term residents. Another factor turning away the smarter set, amplifying the downhill economic spiral.
On the upside, that same depressed market meant that there were a lot of empty apartments for rent. Oscar and the team managed to secure a well-positioned apartment on the old house’s ground floor. It had two bedrooms a bathroom and a lounge squeezed into what used to be one of the brash reception rooms. But the lounge had a panoramic window wall opening on to the lawn which ran all the way down to the edge of Francola Wood itself, giving them a perfect observation post.
Sitting on a pyramid of cushions they’d moved in front of the window wall, Oscar could just glimpse the shimmer of the city force field through the dark trees. He wasn’t using his field-scan function, that would be too much of a giveaway. Not that it stopped other teams. His biononics would occasionally catch a quick scan originating close by. Liatris had identified seven other apartments along the street which had been leased out in the last twenty hours. Two other perfectly legitimate flats had been quietly taken over by teams who thought their subterfuge would leave them less visible. They weren’t good enough to evade Liatris.
But what goes around . . . thought Oscar. He was sure everyone else knew about them as well.
Three of the rival teams had already reduced their personnel after it became clear Araminta had left Chobamba. With a whole galaxy of worlds now available to her, they’d decided it was extremely unlikely she’d ever return here to the heart of Living Dream’s occupation army. That view was one he shared, but waiting here on the off chance was better than trying to guess where else she could turn up.
It was midmorning, and as it was his shift Oscar had been in his armour suit for five hours watching the forest when Paula called.
‘Any sign of her?’
Oscar resisted the urge to roll his eyes, the gesture would be completely wasted. ‘None of the thirteen teams scanning from all along the street have noticed anything. And the eight Ellezelin capsules on permanent patrol overhead report an equally negative result. I imagine the new Welcome Team which is actually lying in wait in the woods is bereft, too.’
‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’
‘Face it, Paula, this is a dead end. We did our best, we got her clear of Living Dream and the others, it’s up to her now.’
‘I know. But several agents followed her on to the Chobamba Silfen path before it closed up’
‘Then we’ll never see them again. Not for centuries, anyway.’
‘I’d like to think we have centuries.’
‘We’ll stay here for another day or two. Unless you know better. How about it, Paula? Do you have contacts among the Silfen?’
‘Not really.’
‘Ah, you surprise me. If anyone has . . .’
‘But I have just been talking to the SI.’
Oscar couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. On the other side of the lounge, Beckia shot him a puzzled look.
‘Only you, Paula,’ Oscar said happily. ‘How is the SI?’
‘Unchanged. It claims. However, it has taken care of one potentially dangerous loose end. Araminta now has no one else left in the Commonwealth to turn to.’
‘So the theory is she’ll ask the Navy for help?’
‘It’s a theory. Right now it’s the only one we’ve got.’
‘Well let’s hope it works.’
‘Yes. And the one trustworthy contact she has with officialdom is you.’
‘Oh bloody hell.’
‘There’s something else.’
Oscar gave up and rolled his eyes. ‘What?’
‘Someone called Troblum may get in touch. If he does I need to know immediately. And you must not lose track of him. If possible, take him directly into custody.’
‘Okay, so who is he?’
‘A slightly strange physicist who may know how to get through the Sol barrier. I’m sending his file. Oh, and the Cat is after him as well, so be careful.’
‘Is she? Well that’s just made my day. Anything else?’
‘That’s all, Oscar. Thank you.’
Oscar watched the file load into his storage lacuna, then the secure link closed. He let out a breath, and started to review Troblum. He kept on getting distracted by Beckia. Her mind was emitting little pulses of dismay and anger into the gaiafield. The gaiafield was Oscar’s private additional method of watching for Araminta. They already had thirty stealthed sensors scattered across Francola Wood to try and spot her should she return. On top of that, Liatris had tapped into sensors and communication links from the other agents and the Welcome Team. But Oscar was hopeful that he would somehow get advance warning of her arrival from the path. He thought, though he was in no way sure, that he could sense the alien wormhole. There was something there, some intrusion into the gaiafield that wasn’t quite right, a feeling of age and incredible distance. Very faint, and the more he concentrated on it the more elusive it became. So he was content to let it wash against the edge of his perception, which meant he had to open his gaiamotes up to their full sensitivity. Which was why Beckia’s little outbursts were becoming quite intrusive.
‘What?’ he finally asked, when a particularly sharp burst of indignation shunted his attention from Troblum’s amazing collection of Starflyer War memorabilia. He shifted round so he was looking back into the lounge. His visor was open so she could see his ire as well as feel it in the gaiafield.
Beckia gave him a look etched with rebuke. She was curled up on a long corner couch, sipping a hot chocolate. Her armour was open and ready on the floor beside her. ‘Haven’t you been following the news?’ she replied.
He waved a gauntleted hand towards Francola Wood. ‘No! This is my shift, remember? I’d like to focus on that.’
‘No need to get touchy. The remote sensors will give us plenty of warning. Besides, you don’t really think she’s coming back here, do you?’
‘We have to be ready in case she does,’ he said, hating how lame he sounded.
‘Do you know something we don’t, Oscar?’
It was there again, that niggling little question of trust that had hung between them all since they bumped into the Cat. ‘Apparently some agents got on to the path at Chobamba,’ he said. ‘Paula thinks they might flush her out faster than she’d like. Personally, I think that’s bullshit, but . . .’
‘The paths aren’t straight lines, you know that.’
‘I know. So what’s troubling you?’
‘Local news. It’s getting worse here.’
‘I’d like to say that’s impossible.’
‘Take a look. I’ll watch the remotes for a minute.’
Against his better judgement, Oscar told his u-shadow to prepare a summary. Beckia was right, it wasn’t pleasant. Once it was confirmed Araminta was on Chobamba, Phelim had begun withdrawing the paramilitary troops from Viotia. It was a well-planned pull-out, starting with the cities furthest from Colwyn City. Ludor, the capital over on the Suvorov continent, had been among the first places to see the big dark capsules streak away. It also had the highest number of Living Dream followers. Without the paramilitaries to guarantee protection, Viotia’s native population began to turn on them. Local police forces did nothing to prevent the attacks; on several occasions they were seen joining in. Hospitals alre
ady overcrowded from riot casualties were deluged by yet more injured.
In response, Phelim announced that the Ellezelin presence in Colwyn City would remain until Living Dream followers were safe. He didn’t say anything about the rest of the planet, and the paramilitary withdrawal continued unabated. Thousands of the faithful fled in their capsules, hoping to pass through the wormhole. But Phelim wouldn’t lower Colwyn City’s force field for anyone except the Ellezelin capsules. Swarms of the frantic refugees were stacking up in the skies outside the city. The lucky tens of thousands of followers who had originally taken up residence in Colwyn City were now trekking across a phenomenally hostile urban landscape, desperately trying to reach the docks where the wormhole would take them back to Ellezelin. It was almost impossible for them to get there. Every street was seething with locals on the lookout for the faithful. All the Ellezelin capsules inside the force field were doing now was running a massive evacuation operation. Phelim had indicated that if there was no end to the violence against Living Dream members he would impose an all-day curfew. That didn’t help. Vigilante groups weren’t even waiting for the followers to try and make a dash for safety. Reports were coming in of houses being broken into to extract justice. Images of bodies savagely beaten to death in their own homes were snatched by braver reporters; there were a lot of children caught up in the violence. Of course the most devout Living Dream followers didn’t have memorycells, because Edeard didn’t, and they were all going to follow Inigo’s dreams into the Void where such contrivances were an irrelevance.
‘Crap,’ Oscar muttered. It would take a generation for Viotia to recover, he knew that. If it ever did. If it even still existed in a generation.
‘We’re not supposed to get sidetracked,’ Beckia said quietly. ‘But it’s hard sometimes. That’s when your strength is really tested.’
‘I lived through worse before,’ Oscar said, aiming for tough and failing woefully. Dead children, for God’s sake; in the Commonwealth, where everyone should be safe and happy.
‘So it would never happen again.’
‘Yeah,’ he said as he pushed the news shows to peripheral mode. ‘Something like that.’ Because he was distracted, because he wasn’t paying full attention to that strange ancient strand of neutral thought in Francola Wood, he was almost immediately aware when it began to change. To stir. Freshen: the only analogy he could come up with.
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