“Do you not now see?” transmitted the Chromatochron.
“I see the death of worlds,” transmitted Gedron, the light of his halo flaring in barely restrained anger.
“And what is the life of a world, or even a hundred worlds, to the stability of the Conclave as a whole?” responded the Chromatochron. “Or have you forgotten the contents of the oath you took before us at your ascension?”
Summoned by the Chromatochron’s words, memories surfaced in Gedron’s mind like revenants called up from the grave: A dark chamber buried in the heart of the Omegahedron, a tablet of green crystal blazing with words of fire, the skull-like grin of the Entrope as he pledged to uphold the Axioms and the Conclave before the gathered Heirophants. As the words of the oath filled his mind, the fiery light of his halo died away.
No part of it had been to protect the worlds of the Conclave.
“Ah,” transmitted the Chromatochron, “I see that you remember. It is well that you do, for otherwise precious time would have been wasted. Now, we must develop a strategy to salvage what we can.”
Though the indignation that once fueled Gedron’s words had been all but quenched, a small fragment of resistance still remained.
“I would discuss this further before we proceed,” transmitted Gedron, his halo gleaming with frigid, icy hues. “You say that the oath I took was to the Conclave as a whole and not to its people. Yet surely the citizens are the substance and body of the Conclave. Surely it is their lives that we are here to defend!”
“While your words are true,” transmitted the Ouranos Radii in response, “you are mistaken as to the nature of that defence. What is life without power, without the ability to impose our own desires on the world around us? It is the life of a slave, a life not worth living. It is this principle that the Axioms guard. It is this collective way of life, and not the mere survival of the worlds and their populace, that we have pledged our lives to safeguard.”
“Well spoken,” transmitted the Entrope, his halo a thunderhead of impenetrable blackness, “and it is in this that the violation of your oath is most clearly seen, for what are the Axioms if not the assurance that each life is its own and can act as if unbound to another. You have all witnessed the economic devastation that the High Gravitist’s actions have precipitated, now hear what I foresee in this.”
“I see citizens forced to forsake their homes to accommodate the migrants. I see wealth and abundance vanishing as individuals begin to use their resources on each other. I see an abandonment of the blessed selfishness of the axioms as men and women cease to impose their own individual meanings on the entropic chaos of their lives and are forced instead to invest in the meanings that others have made. I see the ancient heresies of the Alapsari, so carefully eradicated from our cosmos, rising again even as the end draws nigh. No, better to amputate the limb so that the patient can survive. Better to allow the death of half the Conclave so that the survivors may preserve their way of life.”
As the Entrope’s thoughts rang throughout the Hierophant’s collective thoughtspace, a horror of great darkness descended upon Gedron as for the first time in his life he truly saw the nature of Conclave society. It was no society at all, but rather an endless whirlpool of selfish individuals imprisoned in beautiful, glittering cages of their own making, each swirling downward into oblivion. He too had lived his entire life like this -never hearing, never seeing- and with this new insight rose the certainty that he could no longer do so. He knew that this course could only lead to the destruction of his reputation, his career, everything he had spent his life building, but he also knew that he could not go back.
“I see you are troubled, High Gravitist,” the Chromatocron transmitted, and Gedron realized that he had allowed too many of his true thoughts to surface. His halo had grown turbulent, filled with clashing colors that mirrored his internal distress. Now, of all times, he must maintain control. Taking a deep breath, Gedron brought all his willpower to bear, driving the raging storm of emotions deep below the surface of his conscious thoughts in one swift act of mental discipline. Within seconds the turbulence had dissipated, the riot of colors fading to a pellucid blue. He was on dangerous ground, and needed to proceed with caution.
“No Tauron, only momentary confusion,” transmitted Gedron. “You are, of course, correct regarding the content of the oath. Thank you for the reorientation.”
The Chromatocron frowned at this, and Gedron wondered for a moment whether his apparent change of heart had been too abrupt. Then, mercifully, the frown faded, and the Chromatocron’s halo brightened with reds and golds, the colors of authority.
“At this point,” the Chromatochron continued, “I believe that there is little else that can be done other than attempt the ignition of Vai a second time. Fortunately, I have run multiple sociometric simulations of the impact of a second ignition attempt using the Nagmochron infochryst, and for most permutations the results are favorable. Given the positioning of the Neutronium forges, we should be able to attempt re-ignition within the day.”
“Unfortunately it will not be that simple,” Gedron transmitted, his halo dark with foreboding. “There were… errors… in the initial stellar maintenance protocols that will require full scale rewrites of the major information flows to correct. Harut and Marut, the infochrysts who operate the forges, are even now undergoing data-core formatting in preparation for the parallel evolutionary computing sessions needed to address the issue, but it will take at least two weeks for the process to be completed.”
“It is fortunate then,” transmitted the Chromatocron, “that the Ouranos Radii and I have developed an alternative means to achieve sustained ignition that does not require the forges.”
A brief white spark surged around Gedron’s halo as his eyes widened in shock.
“Come now, High Gravitist, surely you did not think that you alone possessed the tools to avert this crisis,” transmitted the Ouranos Radii, his halo suffused with a smug coppery glow. “Yours was a more… direct… route, I will admit, but while you were preparing the Neutronium Forges, the Chromatocron and I were able to complete a prototype vacuum sculptor.
Gedron frowned. He had heard proposals for devices such as this in the past, but had not realized that their development was this far advanced.
The Ouranos Radii gestured and the image of an intricate device appeared in the space between the thrones. The prototype vacuum scupltor was shaped like a bluish elongated diamond capped on each end by a silver cylinder. Within the diamond was a nest of interlocking rings that swerved and gyrated like an armillary sphere. Across the center of the device ran a thin filament that glowed a dull red.
“The central armature uses adapted laridian ring technology to create a pocket of abnormal extradimensional space within the core of the device,” explained the Ouranos Radii. “By tuning the rotation of the rings within the armature, this space can be made to take on some of the characteristics of the more abstract symmetry group spaces postulated by our unified field theory. In these spaces, subatomic particles can be converted one into another interchangeably. The glowing filament traversing the core is an extremely thin wire of crystalline neutronium maximally charged with pi mesons. Not only do these mesons stabilize the neutronium, but they give it the ability to minutely polarize the false vacuum within the device by attracting virtual quark/antiquark pairs. This polarization then skews the properties of the symmetry space within the armature, causing it to preferentially generate particles that interact via the strong force. At each end of the device is a traditional laridian ring positioned so that its output beam is focused on the core armature. As the beams enter the skewed symmetry space they are converted into a cloud of virtual quarks which the device then releases into the surrounding environment.”
Gedron frowned, his halo darkening to an obscure gray. The device was certainly an ingenious creation, but how could a surge of virtual quarks affect a dead star? Then his halo visibly brightened as a glimmer of understanding flas
hed into his mind.
“You’re trying to shift the balance of forces within Vai’d core to permit helium fusion without external compression!” he transmitted.
“Correct, High Gravitist,” transmitted the Chromatochron. “The primary barrier to reignition is the inability of helium to fuse at Vai’s current internal pressures. As this is ultimately is dependent on helium’s atomic binding energy, then locally enhancing that binding energy should enhance the fusion process, should it not?”
Gedron pondered the Chromatocron’s words. The propensity of an atom to either fuse or split depended on the balance of forces within the nucleus; the strong force binding it together, the electromagnetic force attempting to push it apart. The balance of these forces was such in the helium nucleus that sustained fusion could not occur at Vai’s current mass; the force of gravity simply could not generate enough pressure to sustain the reaction. But if the strong force could somehow be magnified?
One significant effect of the virtual matter that filled the vacuum was the way in which it modulated the relative strength of the fundamental forces. In the case of electromagnetism, this virtual matter, once polarized by the field, had the net effect of diminishing the force between two charged bodies. But in the case of the strong force the opposite occurred and the polarization of the vacuum actually enhanced the strength of the field. By flooding Vai with virtual quarks, the tendency of the helium nuclei to bind would be increased and the compression needed to sustain fusion would be lessened considerably. Gedron’s halo flashed blue and gold as he marveled at the design.
Perhaps we really can reignite Vai without another entropy storm!
The sheer beauty of what was being attempted almost overwhelmed Gedron’s prior misgivings. Still, a small part of him remained uneasy.
“I can see we have impressed you,” transmitted the Chromatocron. “Excellent! Even now the corona of Vai is being seeded with the devices.”
As he spoke, the Chromatocron stretched out his hand and touched the image of the vacuum sculptor. The image shrank rapidly in response, until it was no bigger than a grain of sand, and came to rest in the Chromatocron’s palm. Raising his hand to his lips, the Chromatocron gently exhaled and the tiny, sparkling mote that was the vacuum sculptor drifted downward toward the simulated surface of Vai. The device began to multiply exponentially as it descended exponentially -one becoming two, then four, then eight- until finally a cloud of gleaming dust had enrobed the surface of the dead star. Each grain began to pulse with soft blue light as the vacuum sculptors activated and a few moments later the star responded, its surface blazing with new life.
“In two day’s time they will be ready,” continued the Chromatocron, his halo shining with golden light, “and Vai will live again.”
As Gedron watched the simulation his sense of uneasiness mounted, at last resolving into a single, disquieting thought. A chill rippled through through his flesh.
“Ouranos Radii,” he asked. “Have these devices been tested?”
“Only in simulation,” transmitted the Ouranos Radii. “That is why we did not offer this approach during the first ignition attempt. There are a number of unknowns, of course, but during perilous times such as these such risks must be taken.”
Gedron’s halo darkened. Reaching down toward the now-incandescent surface of Vai, he called up the simulation’s source code, which appeared in the air as a table of obscure numbers. With a flick of his finger Gedron highlighted the value corresponding to the strong force binding coefficient, altered it by a millionth part, and restarted the model. This time the scintillation of the vacuum sculptors was followed by the brilliant flash of a supernova as the star’s entire helium content fused catastrophically. His face grim, Gedron raised his hands and Vai fell away. Higher and higher the thrones rose, soaring upward from the three suns’ orbital plane until at last the entire Conclave lay spread beneath them. From this vantage point Heirophants watched as the shockwave from the exploding star disrupted first Vasya and then Verduun before finally sterilizing the worlds of the Conclave in a blast of searing radiation. A few moments later the planetary remnants were consumed by the surging tides of the entropy clouds.
“We have covered this ground already, have we not?” transmitted the Entrope, his halo a shifting mass of vermillion and nacreous green. “We know the tolerances are small, but better the Conclave be erased than the principles by which we live be compromised.”
“Indeed,” transmitted Gedron, his halo an inscrutable grey. “I was merely being sure our brethren were aware of all the potential consequences of our actions.”
“I assure you they are,” transmitted the Entrope. “Now that we have established this, High Gravitist, I assume that you will not object to assisting the Chromatochron and Ouranos Radii in their preparations for the next attempt.”
Gedron nodded imperceptibly as his halo faded to a featureless black. The implication of the Entrope’s words had not been lost on him.
Their discussion concluded, the Chromatochron raised his hands in the gesture of completion. As the last vestiges of the Heirophant’s collective thoughtspace faded away, Gedron allowed himself to release the emotions he had been holding in check. He felt as if he were drowning, buried alive beneath a crushing wave of defeat. With his authority removed, what power did he have to prevent the catastrophe he had just witnessed?
He did not know what to do, and had little time in which to do it.
Chapter 20: Rumors of Wars
Trielle’s ether chariot emerged from its corridor of twisted space into a tumultuous sky. From horizon to horizon, the eternal evening of Latis’ far side was crisscrossed with threads of light. Trielle stared at them for a moment in confusion before finally realizing what they were.
Ships, fleeing the destruction of the outer worlds.
The Kinetorium had likewise been congested, but this dwarfed what she had seen there by an order of magnitude. The sight filled her with an aching sense of dread, an unshakeable sense that the life she had known was drawing to a close. She arrived home a few moments later and found her father sitting alone in the central apartment.
A sharp, hot anger flared within her.
“I see that you attempted the reignition,” she began, then her voice trailed off as she saw his grim, haggard expression.
“Attempted and aborted,” said Gedron finally. “I could see the storms raging, the worlds dying, from the bridge of the Gog! I couldn’t continue, not knowing the cost! For all I knew, Garin could have been on any of them…”
His eyes were moist, as if he had been weeping. Trielle’s anger died away as if it had been doused in cold water, leaving an empty, hollow feeling in her chest. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, not knowing what to say. Finally, she sat down beside him.
“You aborted the ignition deliberately?”
“Yes, Trielle,” replied Gedron. “The Heirophants and I called for a limited evacuation of the outermost worlds when we planned the ignition. We never revealed the real reason. We told them that it was due to the higher risk of entropy storms caused by the loss of Vai’s radiation pressure. But I always knew that the inhabitants of the outermost worlds had a chance. It was after I initiated the sustainment protocol, after I realized that the resulting entropic activity would almost certainly wipe out everything and everyone outside the Guard, that I halted the process. The other Heirophants were not pleased. Still, you said I had a choice, and I made the only choice I could, though it’s not as if it will make any difference in the end.”
A wave of conflicting emotions surged through Trielle, a volatile mixture of hope and foreboding.
“What do you mean, Father? Surely you have the ability as High Gravitist to prevent another attempt.”
“Not anymore,” said Gedron grimly. “When I aborted the protocol I erased it from the core memory of the Neutronium Forge infochrysts. I thought that would buy me time to think, to sort out what to do next. But the Chromatocron and Ouranos Ra
dii have developed an alternative approach that doesn’t directly involve gravitic manipulation, and so it falls outside of my jurisdiction. I’ve been asked to assist them, but it is in their hands now.”
“An alternative approach?” said Trielle. “But surely that is in our favor. If it doesn’t use laridian ring technology then perhaps Vai can be reignited safely.”
“Unfortunately that is not the case,” said Gedron. “The new approach uses an experimental device called a Vacuum Sculptor, which uses a modified version of laridian ring technology to manipulate the binding values of the Strong Force over limited volumes of space. The new values allow helium to fuse at a lower pressure, bypassing the need for external compression. They’re planning to seed Vai’s atmosphere with a swarm of them.”
“So this swarm will still generate excessive bosonic flux?” asked Trielle. “Is that the issue?”
“Unfortunately it’s much worse than that,” said Gedron. “By themselves the vacuum sculptors will generate some increased entropic activity, but not nearly as much as the stellar maintenance protocols, and if reignition can be achieved then Vai’s radiation pressure should be enough to counter it. The real problem is that much of Vai is made of helium now. If the adjusted binding coefficient is off by even a millionth of a decimal, every atom in the entire star could fuse simultaneously.”
Trielle’s eyes widened. “You’re saying Vai could go supernova?” she asked.
“I’m saying that Vai could experience a helium flash of such magnitude that a supernova would be benign in comparison” said Gedron. “And if it did, the resulting shockwave would almost certainly annihilate the rest of the Conclave.”
“How likely is the helium flash scenario?” asked Trielle
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