“The womb was grown here,” Chloe replied. “It was the latest of many, but this time it was done without the Advocates’ knowledge using the most advanced techniques available. It was designed to be self-sufficient, because there were rumours that the Advocates would no longer countenance the production of potential successors and might actually have it destroyed should they find out.”
“Destroyed?” said Nina. “I thought you valued the preservation of life above everything.”
“It’s one of our fundamental precepts,” Lucian said. “It was only then that many of us here began to accept the true extent of Julius and Orela’s derangement.”
“We worked in great secrecy,” Chloe said. “Even here the Advocates have many partisans who might have betrayed us. In the event, we were only partially successful. By the time we had developed the womb, there were already whisperings that our scheme was known by those loyal to Julius and Orela. There was no alternative but to fly the womb to a place of safety where it could be nurtured and brought to maturity without threat. We chose Mars, where a community sympathetic to our aims existed. But the ship was sabotaged in flight, the womb itself barely escaping destruction. The rest of the story you know.”
I thought about it. “Julius and Orela ordered the ship destroyed?”
“They’ll stop at nothing to maintain their positions,” said Lucian.
“And they had Marea’s husbands killed?”
“At the very least, their agents interpreted their orders in the most brutal way. We know they would do anything to gain possession of the womb in order to destroy it. It represents the most direct threat to their power.”
“We, too, would like to recover the womb,” Chloe said, “but we can only work secretly within the Noocracy, or through unofficial agents. Most arbiters remain faithful servants of the Advocates, despite their misgivings. They follow their instructions implicitly, as they’ve always done.”
“So Bezile was also following orders?”
“She was acting as a high official of the Noocracy, whose power is ultimately symbolized by the Advocates. Julius and Orela seldom show their hands directly, but there are many ways in which they can make their will known.”
“And the Augmenters?” I said. “What’s their place in this?”
For the first time, neither Chloe nor Lucian was immediately forthcoming.
“They have their own agenda,” Lucian said at last, “which is neither ours nor the Advocates’. They wish to supplant what we have now, to change the very human fabric, alter our whole relationship with the Noospace.”
“By redesigning the human race?”
“The people have always rejected the idea of radical physical changes. The Augmenters represent a minority view.”
“So you disapprove of them?”
“I hope we’ll be able to show you just how undesirable their programme would be.”
A silence fell. Outside the window a sequence of lights pulsed along a golden band, then was gone. Traffic? I knew nothing, could not even begin to imagine how this place, the moral and spiritual centre of the species, functioned.
“We’re asking for your help,” Chloe said, “because you’re in a position to intervene in our favour.”
“Intervene?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“In your last dream you were able to communicate with your host, the man called Tunde. This is as we intended. We’ve forged a link between you and certain others whose lives you’ve experienced. Their minds are accessible to you through the Noospace. Not only can you speak to them, you may also be able to influence their actions.”
This was new. I looked at her with outright disbelief.
“The best way for you to understand is to experience it yourself. To dream a dream in which you can participate.”
“We will also be able to assist you if you require it,” said Lucian, “by providing you with information and knowledge which is available to us here.”
Nina said, “What are you suggesting?”
“That you make your next dream an adventure,” said Chloe, “so we can prove to you that what we say is true. I’m sure you’d consider it a virtuous thing to help the man called Tunde rescue the woman Marea from Io.”
“Much of the story you’ve dreamt so far had unfolded before you were fully reborn,” said Lucian. “You’ve merely been witnessing its consequences. As have we. The woman Marea in particular deserves a better fate.”
“Then why don’t you intervene directly?”
“And openly act against the Advocates? What would we gain but the saving of an admittedly innocent life? There are thousands of millions of lives at stake here. If you acted as our agents, you would protect those of us who are trying to save them. And you would also know that what we’ve told you is true.”
“There would be no danger to you,” said Chloe. “Even if your enterprise ended in disaster, if, say, the man called Tunde died, you would be quite unharmed. We can withdraw you at any time, and you can be sure we’d do so the instant we felt it necessary. Having invested so much effort in bringing you back to life, we have no intention of losing you.”
“I don’t understand how this is possible,” Nina said.
“It’s possible,” said Lucian, “because we’re here, and we have direct access to the Noosphere. And because we already know that your minds have the capacity for the vicarious experience of other lives.”
“We’d both go together?” said Nina.
“In a sense you wouldn’t go anywhere,” said Chloe. “You would remain here, under our supervision. But your minds—your spirits, if you will—they would travel with your host.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
“And we’d be able to communicate with one another?”
Chloe nodded. “You may discover other capacities, too, but it is best that you experience them yourselves.”
“This is insane,” I said.
“I think you know that it isn’t.”
“And if we refuse?”
“Then nothing will happen. Events will take their course for better or worse.”
“I have to tell you,” Lucian said, “it will be for the worse.”
• • •
“Who are you?”
“My name is Nathan.”
“I can hear your voice so clearly. Are you an ancestor?”
“I’m not a relative. I’m alive.”
I was powerfully aware of Tunde’s fear and incomprehension. Beside me I felt Nina’s presence, an echo of my own. I sensed Tunde’s daughter withdrawing her hands in shock from the prayer terminal. Nina seemed to have gone with her.
“What are you?” Tunde said.
“A human being, just like you. I’m communicating with you through the Noosphere. That’s where I am.”
“Mortal?”
“Second time around.”
This naturally puzzled Tunde, but he did not question it.
“You remember Marea?”
“What?”
“We know she passed on the womb to you. She’s in a labour camp on Io, due for blanking.”
Tunde didn’t even ask how I knew this: the superstitious awe surrounding the shrines and the Noosphere made anything possible.
“They imprisoned her?”
“She’s lucky she wasn’t killed. Did you never stop to think that if they were pursuing you they would also want her?”
Tunde’s shame was profound; but it was also very belated.
“I didn’t intend any harm to come to her.”
“It’s time you made amends.”
“How?”
“By rescuing her.”
Surprise and confusion. A wash of apprehension and fear.
“I’ll help you. There’s a lot I know.”
“I can’t do this!”
“You must!”
“My daughter. She’s only a child.”
“No harm will come to her, I promise you.”
“I’ve got somebody with me,” Cori announced. “She says she’ll look after me.”
Tunde opened his eyes and stared at her. She sounded quite calm and unfrightened.
Tunde was a little panicked. “What’s happening?” he demanded.
“We’re here to help you,” I assured him. “You must trust us implicitly, follow our instructions exactly. Now leave here and make your way to the terminus.”
“What?”
“We’re going to find you a ship for the flight to Io.”
The man was in awe of me, I knew, as if he were speaking to a ghost or an angel. For a while he sat rooted in indecision, but I did everything I could to instil confidence and trust. Disengaging himself and his daughter from the terminal, he grasped Cori’s hand and stumbled out of the booth.
The contact was not broken; I was firmly lodged in his startled mind.
As they were making their way out of the shrine, the intercessor who had admitted them approached.
“Was your communion satisfactory?” she asked by rote.
Tunde paused. For a moment I thought he was going to blurt out everything.
“Yes,” he replied at last, before pushing past her and hurrying Cori out into the street.
There were crowds everywhere. Some sort of carnival was in progress, naked dancers disporting themselves on young serpentines, hatchling blimps floating overhead festooned with holograms advertising stimstore specials and the latest in optic interactives. We pushed through the jostling throng, and I heard Cori say, “Yes, I understand.”
Tunde had not spoken to her, so it had to be Nina. The child remained calm, unlike her agitated father. I lacked the patience to soothe him; I sat back, somewhat exhilarated that I was there. This was as real as my previous dreams, yet now I was, as Chloe and Lucian had promised, actually taking part in it.
We boarded a centipede crammed with home-going commuters, Tunde dropping coins into its cashmaw. The ’pede squirmed out through the traffic, presently entering a long tunnel whose mirrored surfaces reflected its segmented black flanks with their ranks of glazed faces framed at its oval portals. And then out again, the city already behind us, the ’pede halting to excrete passengers, now clattering across a bowled brasswood bridge. A big sailship was passing by below, its voluminous white fins rippling as it propelled itself along, several young surrounding it, learning from their parent the arts of flight. I was seeing this for the first time, and yet I had the vocabulary to comprehend it, just as I had done when my dreams were unwilled.
The ’pede stopped at an outlying settlement to disgorge even more passengers. Tunde remained nervous, cowed. He cast a glance at Cori, who seemed to be murmuring to herself.
“Your daughter’s fine,” I said. “My companion is with her, and she’ll be safe.”
“Is that who she’s talking to?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want with us?”
“I’ve told you. You have a debt to repay.”
“I’m an ordinary man.”
“All you have to do is trust me. Trust me, and do exactly as I say.”
I felt such a sense of power, generated as much by Tunde’s awe of me as anything else. Of course I was conscious that it was the same sort of power wielded over Nina and myself by Chloe and Lucian. I was aware of them as distant presences in the background. And now, as the ’pede wove out of a stormtree forest and the terminus came in sight, they began to feed me information so that I could instruct Tunde on how to find the ship to take him to Io. It came in an inchoate way, mixing information with mental imagery showing the geography of the place and the siting of the ship we were going to take. Through the Noosphere Chloe and Lucian had detailed knowledge of flight schedules throughout the Settled Worlds, and I understood how they intended I should make use of it.
We disembarked at the main entrance but, under my instructions, followed a gravity trail that led us away from the passenger terminals. Cloudscrub and the hulking backs of loading bays screened us from sight as we skirted the perimeter wall until we approached the very edge of the terminus, where the runways jutted out over the Hercules Sea itself. And here we came upon an aquavine that had found purchase in the rocky earth; it had coiled up, clinging to the wall, its uppermost tendrils gripping the top like splayed fingers.
“Here?” Tunde said. He already knew.
“We climb over,” I said.
Something occurred to him. “I’ve left our baggage in the shrine!”
“It’s too late to go back for it now.”
“It’s all we had!”
“Tunde, you’ve got to help us. Marea’s going to die if you don’t.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
This was easy to say when I was sure that I was in no physical danger myself; but I was so glad to be doing something active, even through someone else, that I scarcely gave it a thought.
Dusk was falling, the banded sky lavender and gold. We helped Cori up first; she showed no fear, and scrambled to the top in a few instants. More gingerly, Tunde followed. He was a big man, and the vine stems began to buckle under his weight as he ascended. Then he put his hand around a ripe pod, which promptly burst with a crack, showering him with water. He almost lost his purchase, and it was only the sound of Cori’s laughter that made him hang on. He hauled himself up, joining Cori at the top.
We looked down on a compound set aside from the rest of the terminus. The ships in the numbered docking spaces resembled armoured beetles, built for speed and robustness. They bristled with antennae and complex proboscises.
Tunde froze. “This is a politia dock,” he said.
“That’s correct.”
“Those are interdictors. They’re armed.”
“We won’t be taking any of them. That’s the one we’re going to be flying.”
One ship stood alone in the shadows of the control tower. It was a squat crab-like craft, smaller than the others but fast and manoeuvrable. A scuttle, used for rapid deployment of politia in both suborbital and interworld flights. The sight of them alone was often enough to quell a disturbance or send rioters darting for cover.
“This is madness,” Tunde said. “What am I supposed to do? Walk in there and take it? Through a razorthorn hedge?”
Beyond the parapet wall the compound was surrounded by tall, tangled razorthorn, its ciliated foliage responsive to the slightest touch, launching clusters of barbed seeds that could kill the incautious intruder. It was such an effective barrier that the compound had no other guard; the ships were unattended, asleep, the only evidence of occupancy being the pale light leaking through a faulty lid on a control tower window.
At this point I heard a distant flapping and a great rustling breath which rapidly grew louder. Tunde spun around as a cargo blimp rose up from the ravine, gulping in air, pendulous wattles dangling over us. I knew from Chloe and Lucian that it was an unmanned craft and that they had diverted it for us.
The hollow sacs at the end of each wattle were packed with vegetables and fruit for the morning market in Antaeus. But the one that hung closest was empty.
Before I could tell Tunde what to do, Cori had hoisted herself into the sac. Seeing this, Tunde immediately followed.
The sac was leathery and elastic, redolent of roseplums. It enfolded us snugly, Tunde putting an arm around his daughter for extra security. Its new cargo aboard, the blimp drifted down in utter silence over the compound. It slowed and descended close to the scuttle. When it was low enough, Cori jumped down.
Tunde jumped after her, landing awkwardly and muffling a groan. He had jarred his ankle: I felt the pain. But it was nothing serious. He straightened. The blimp was already rising, exhaling gases from its capacious rear end so that a ripe wind blew over us as it headed away towards the city, resuming its original journey.
The scuttle had opened one eye and was peering down at us. Beyond it the compound remained deserted, quiet.
“What do you wan
t?” it said in an irritable voice.
I told Tunde to say: “Access.” Then I gave him a string of words and digits which meant nothing to me. He repeated them faithfully.
“This is really most inconvenient,” the ship said. “I wasn’t due out for another twelve hours.” But a door opened in its midriff, and down came a ramp flap.
Again Tunde hesitated, and again it was Cori who led the way. I was grateful for the daughter’s presence, for Nina’s influence. Where she went, he followed.
We hurried down a corridor to the bridgehead. The ship was slowly awakening, turning on its lights, powering up its propulsion systems.
“You aren’t even in uniform,” I heard it grumbling. “This is an emergency, you say.”
We had said nothing of the sort, but the code that Chloe and Lucian had given me instructed the ship to reverse its original flight plan and follow Tunde’s instructions. Irritability was evidently inbred into it, but it would have to obey its human operator.
“There’s a spare uniform in the closet,” the ship said briskly. “Perhaps you’d like to put it on.”
It was clear the ship felt Tunde to be improperly dressed. A phosphor dot was winking over one of the closets at the rear of the bridgehead. I told Tunde to open it. Inside hung the uniform of a politia officer.
“Put it on,” I instructed him.
“I can’t—”
“Don’t argue. We don’t want the ship becoming suspicious, do we?”
He did as he was bid. The jet fabric was self-fitting, extending itself to cover his large frame, braided collar and cuffs adjusting to the correct length. Tunde regarded himself in the closet mirror.
“You look the part,” I told him.
“What are we supposed to be doing?”
This time he did not speak aloud, but addressed me internally.
“Take control of the ship. Let’s get out of here.”
The ship had raised two seats, one smaller than the other to accommodate Cori.
“I don’t usually carry minors,” it complained. “It’s quite irregular.”
It had a man’s voice, and I wondered whether it had been deliberately designed to be finicky. Ships’ characters were largely bioengineered depending on their function, but their overall personalities were never entirely predictable.
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