The shadow can obscure the road but not destroy it…
Was this the truth he needed? There was only one way to know.
Turning from Daath, he flung himself headlong into the black hole of his heart. The visions assailed him like a storm of knives, but he did not fight. Rather, he simply acknowledged them, accepting them as true in all their hideousness while seeking to find and surrender to the still deeper truth that they obscured.
Beneath the darkness, beneath all the selfish choices of my life, who am I?
It was enough.
In the heart of the void a light flared, a single red star burning amidst the darkness. Then another star appeared, and another, until soon the blackness looked like the skies of old. He had found the road. His feet touched the path and he began to run.
Behind him, he heard Daath roar.
“Do you think that you can flee by this path? Fool, I can tread it as well as you. Have you ever asked, blind monkey, why it is paved with stars the colors of blood?”
Garin did not wait to reply, but sprinted faster. At once the shadow engulfed him, its chill blackness buffeting him like a thousand fists. This time, though, he did not falter, and soon the blackness gave way to the timeless, starry mountain that upheld the cosmos. The path twisted and turned beneath his feet, rising toward a mountain spur on which sat a vast sphere, the next world. Behind him, Garin could still here roars of anger.
He’s on the mountain, thought Garin, and a shiver of fear ran down his spine.
Straining to the limits of his endurance, Garin summoned a burst of speed and soon reached the sphere. Without hesitation Garin flung himself headlong through its yielding surface. There was a brief sense of vertigo, and then a flood of light as Garin found himself in a valley of ancient stone lit by the blaze of the morning sun.
Chapter 16: The Frontier of Light and Darkness
Gedron sat alone in the High Gravitist’s sanctuary. He was surrounded by a towering array of infographic crystals that displayed an ever-evolving series of equations and models, the ongoing output of the Rhamachrond Infochryst. Chief noetic device of the College of Gravitists, the Rhamachrond Infochryst’s vast computational power was focused on a single goal, the reignition of Vai. Model after model flashed by, haloed by an abstract representation of the complex web of assumptions, variables, and relationships that formed their substrate. Each represented an iterative change in the reignition conditions that could be generated, yet each so far had ended in the same dismal outcome, an entropy storm bigger than any the Conclave had seen since the Philosoph War. In a few scenarios the storm had even reached as far as the Guard, the vast belt of brown dwarfs that served as the inner Conclave’s last line of defense against the entropy clouds.
Gedron sighed in frustration. There was no way to make this work. He would have to summon the other Heirophants.
“I see you are preparing for the reignition. Good. Then my time will not be wasted.”
Startled, Gedron turned to see the Entrope glide silently into the sanctuary toward the control throne on which he sat. His black robe, silhouetted against the actinic blue surface of the infographic crystals, made him seem little more than a shadow, an amorphous hole in the light.
“Yes,” said Gedron tersely. “By tomorrow the neutronium forges will be fully realigned. Most of the Ethereavers are already in orbit around Latis awaiting the order to jump to Vai-space. My servants are readying the Gog’s laridian drivers, and, even now, I am preparing the calculations for the gravitic burst.”
“It is well that you have done this so swiftly, for I sensed hesitation at our last gathering and have come to encourage your work.”
Gedron nodded in silent acknowledgement. He paused for a moment, then added, “In truth, these calculations trouble me still.”
“Indeed,” said the Entrope, taking an almost fatherly tone. “I am curious as to why this is so.”
“Over the past few days new data have been gathered from Vai’s convective zone probe network that allow us to more accurately estimate the elemental ratios present in the core. The helium levels are significantly higher than optimal.”
“You do not believe that you can achieve reignition?” said the Entrope, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“That is not the issue,” said Gedron. “With enough spacetime distortion I could turn Latis into a sun. The problem is sustainability. Observe.”
Gedron gestured at the surrounding infographic crystals and two graphs appeared. The first was colored bright orange. It began at the zero point, rising in a steep curve before leveling out into a broad plateau. The second was colored a sickly green and was a near inverse of the other, starting at an initially low value and continuing there for quite some time before abruptly shooting upward exponentially.
“The orange graph represents the strength of Vai’s stellar wind after reignition assuming different levels of hydrogen and helium in the core,” explained Gedron. “The green graph represents the virtual bosonic flux created by the Neutronium Forge mass drivers when operating at the power levels needed to sustain fusion in Vai’s core, again assuming different hydrogen to helium ratios.”
Gedron stretched out both hands and brought them swiftly together. In response the two graphs merged, the lines superimposing one atop the other. He made another gesture and a vertical red bar appeared on the image.
“This bar represents the possible range of gas ratios in Vai. Look where it crosses the solar wind and bosonic flux lines. There is no way to use the Neutronium Forges to sustain Vai without strengthening the entropy clouds beyond what Vai’s radiation pressure can hold. Even if we can sustain fusion, we will lose far more than we gain.”
“I understand your concerns,” said the Entrope in a conciliatory tone. “And yet we must proceed. After all, we have spoken of these possibilities already in council and I do not see how this changes anything. Still, these calculations are of interest. I will await your report after the ignition event.”
“Entrope,” said Gedron indignantly, “in fact you do not understand. If this ignition event occurs, half the Conclave may be annihilated and the end will be hastened, not delayed. We cannot go through with this!”
When the Entrope answered there was no trace of his former friendly tone. Now each word snapped like the crack of a whip.
“The Conclave has no choice! Despite the cost, despite the futility, we must act, for in the end blind action is all there is, no matter how meaningless. If we are to be destroyed, then what better way do we have to impress our own meaning on that destruction than to take it into our own hands. It is our most primal philosophy, our basic reason for continued existence.”
“Or perhaps, High Gravitist,” he added in a low hiss that somehow made Gedron’s title sound like an insult, “you no longer believe in the Axioms?”
At the Entrope’s words Gedron’s resolve crumbled. His entire existence, his deepest sense of who he was, hinged on the Axioms. As High Gravitist he had sworn his unwavering loyalty to their tenets as part of the rite by which he had ascended to his office. To discard the Axioms would mean the abandonment of his very identity. Despite his misgivings, it was not a move he was prepared to make. Taking a deep breath, Gedron pushed back his doubts, covering them with a veneer of control and confidence.
“My apologies Entrope,” he said. “You misunderstand me, and are of course correct. We must make what meaning of this event we can, regardless of the cost.”
“Please, my colleague,” said the Entrope, his pleasant demeanor restored, “no apology is needed. Sometimes we all need a reminder of what it is we have bound our lives to. I will leave you now to your calculations. Surely there is much left to be done.”
“Indeed,” said Gedron.
As the Entrope exited the room Gedron turned again to the infographic crystals. He sat for a moment in contemplation, then raised his hands and, with a flurry of movements, activated a noetic optimizing program and instructed it to search for the combination of
ignition energies and Neutronium Forge mass driver outputs that generated the least bosonic flux. The program did not take long to complete its task, and in a few moments the requested parameters, complete with a simulation of the most likely outcome of their use, filled the display.
Gedron stared grimly at the simulation. It was better than some of the possibilities, but not by much. At least a third of the outer worlds were at risk from the initial gravitic burst alone, and the program gave a seventy-eight percent likelihood that the Neutronium Forge output needed to sustain stellar fusion would result in ongoing entropy cloud surges. Still, he reasoned, it must be done.
Gedron reached within his robe and removed a pale blue datachryst. He held it out at arm’s length and soon the air was filled with pulsating blue light as the infographic crystals downloaded their contents. When it was complete, Gedron touched a jewel on the control throne. A few moments later a violet robed servitor, one of the High Gravitist’s personal retinue, entered the chamber.
“Take this to Yithra-Gor, the master gravitomechanist of the Worldship Gog,” said Gedron as he handed the servitor the datachryst. “He is expecting this and will know what to do.”
The servitor bowed briefly and left the room. After sitting in silence for a few moments, Gedron rose from his throne and left the sanctuary, heading for the Kinetorium and home.
***
Trielle sat pensively in their central apartment, waiting for her father to arrive home from Scintillus. Ever since Vai had failed, her father had worked long hours, often returning long after Trielle and her mother had gone to sleep. Tonight, however, was different.
For days Trielle had pondered the information she had uncovered in the Cthonic archives, trying to see some plausible means to explain away what she had learned, and had failed. Now, with Vai’s reignition scheduled for tomorrow, she knew that it was time to put doubt aside and confront her father with what she was afraid tomorrow might bring.
A low whine sounded from below, the sound of an ether chariot powering down. A few moments later the door to the main transit shaft slid open and her father emerged, a worn look on his face.
“Trielle,” he said softly. “I didn’t expect anyone to be awake.”
“I was waiting for you,” she said, then added, “I need to ask you about something, about the reignition.”
“Of course,” said Gedron, sitting down beside her.
“It will take a lot of gravitic energy to restart Vai, won’t it?” she said hesitantly.
“Well… yes,” he replied.
She paused for a moment, steeling herself.
“How large of an entropy storm do you think that much laridian ring usage will cause?”
Trielle watched as a look of fear and shock crossed his face. It was quickly replaced by a look of bewilderment and a reassuring laugh, but he had lowered his guard long enough to confirm the truth.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said finally.
The blatant lie struck a spark of anger within her.
“Yes,” she said grimly, “I think you do. I’ve read Rashavey’s work, Father. I know about the consequences of unbalanced virtual bosonic flux. I know what we did to our universe, though why is still a puzzle to me, and I know what we are going to do to it again tomorrow!”
The color drained from Gedron’s face, leaving it pale and cadaverous, and for the first time Trielle saw the toll the last few days had taken on him. For a long time he was silent, staring off into the shadows of their apartment.
“We have no choice, Trielle,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper.
“No choice?” she repeated in disbelief. “You are the High Gravitist. If anyone has a choice it is you!”
“Trielle,” said Gedron sternly, “I do not know how you came across this knowledge. In truth, I do not want to know. But understand this. I am a Heirophant, and I have taken an oath not just to guide the people of the Conclave, but to uphold the principles it stands for, the Axioms on which it was built. Yes, we know the cost of gravitic technology. We have always known. Few remember why it is we chose this path and what we had to conquer to create the society in which we dwell. It is well that they do not. Now, you know in part, and I ask that you inquire no further. What happens tomorrow, happens because it must. It is better to act, and by that act to create our own destiny, no matter how dark, than to idly sit by and wait for the end.”
“And so you act to hasten that end?” asked Trielle, her anger rising. “Father, these are not just principles we are talking about, but worlds, and all the living beings on them. If what you are saying is true then our civilization is founded on a desire for its own annihilation. It’s no wonder Garin rejects the axioms!”
At the mention of Garin, Gedron’s eyes widened.
“Trielle,” he said, “do you know where he is?”
“No,” she admitted, “but now I know what he is searching for.”
“Searching?”
“Yes,” said Trielle. “The last time I saw him he was heading through the transit system to the rim, trying to find out whether the axioms you hold to so blindly are all that there is. And I hope he found the answers he needed, because if he didn’t, tomorrow might be the last day he has to look.”
Overtaken by sudden exhaustion, Trielle rose abruptly and gave Gedron one last, hard look. “Father, whatever you may think, you do have a choice!” Then she turned and walked away, leaving Gedron alone with his thoughts.
***
Trielle and his wife had long since gone to sleep, but Gedron could find no rest. He paced the floor of the apartment, unable to reject the course he and the other Heirophants had chosen, but unable to reject Trielle’s words either. Suddenly the walls felt too close, the ceiling like a lead weight poised to crush him. He had to get out.
Gedron entered the transit tube and a few moments later emerged onto a balcony of white stone that stood near the top of the monolith in which his family lived. He took a deep breath, letting the cool nightside air fill his lungs as he gazed down at the crystalline towers and glass bridges of his home. Despite the lateness of the hour, he could see the occasional indistinct figure walking along the glassy paths below, enjoying the eternal twilight.
I have to proceed. I have no choice.
He repeated the words to himself over and over, trying in vain to take some comfort in the inevitability of what he must do. But somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe them.
Sighing in frustration, Gedron leaned back and lifted his eyes skyward to the myriad worlds of the Conclave. Some were so close that Gedron almost felt as if he could reach out and pluck them from the sky, some were mere multicolored sparks burning amidst the dark abyss, but all were worlds he had pledged to shepherd and protect. A sickly green light flickered momentarily in the void, and Gedron grimly wondered how many of those worlds would still be there tomorrow.
Chapter 17: The Sepulcher of Suns
The valley’s brilliance was such a contrast to the cool darkness of the mountain that at first Garin had to squint to see anything at all. Bur gradually his eyes became accustomed to the light and he was able to take stock of his surroundings.
He stood at the meeting point of four great mountain ranges that stretched off into the distance. The mountains seemed both beautiful and forbidding, their sheer granite surfaces shimmering with reflected light. Between the ranges stretched sterile valleys of stark, grassless rock. The sky above was a brilliant blue, and seemed somehow closer than the skies of the worlds he knew, almost close enough to touch. Seized by a sudden intuition, Garin looked behind him, and saw, not more than fifty paces away, the great expanse of the sky curving down to meet the earth in a shifting sapphire wall. Embedded within this wall were two immense pillars of white crystal, bigger than mountains, framing the blinding disk of a rising sun.
Then Garin felt a pang of fear.
Where is Daath?
Garin quickly glanced around, but could see no trace of him. Still, he
did not wish to squander his lead. Turning back to the mountains, Garin quickly assessed each of the valleys, deciding eventually on one to the northwest (if the direction of the rising sun could be considered east in this place), and strode off resolutely.
The floor of the valley was level and its course straight as an arrow, so Garin had no difficulty in his travels. The bright sun rose quickly in the sky, washing the landscape with an endless cataract of light that seemed almost a solid thing. As he journeyed further from this world’s edge, hints of vegetation began to appear. Never more than the occasional patch of grass as flowers, they still served to break the sublime monotony of stone and light. Finally, a little before noon, the valley opened up into a broad bowl filled with innumerable stone markers spaced closely at regular intervals. In the center of the bowl stood a stone hut, its architecture simple but elegant.
Garin paused for a moment, questioning whether he should proceed, but eventually curiosity overcame him and he proceeded to the nearest of the stone markers. A flat, rectangular slab of mirrored rock fully as big as Garin, its upper surface was inscribed with the image of a star surrounded by rays of light. Beneath the image, extending almost to the ground, were a series of inscriptions in every language and ideogram imaginable. Most were incomprehensible to Garin, but near the bottom he saw one in the common tongue of the Conclave.
“Alcyone, 13,885,032,211 to 14,000,012,650. Rest in peace my daughter…”
Garin turned and looked at another monolith and saw the same starburst symbol followed by a similar litany. Only the names and numbers were different.
“They are the graves of my children. All but three are gone now.”
The booming voice startled Garin. Lifting his eyes from the stones, he saw a titanic figure approaching him from the direction of the stone house. The figure was robed in white and bore a breastplate of burnished gold on which this insignia of a blazing sun was engraved. His eyes burned with a piercing brilliance, and he wore a jeweled crown that burned as if aflame, sending showers of golden light onto the landscape. As he approached, the air grew warmer, as if his body contained an immense source of heat and power. The figure was majestic, almost godlike, and Garin found himself sinking to his knees in humility as the being drew near.
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