It had only been five hours since he and Trielle had finished their work on the family’s ether chariot, but already it felt like an aeon. Again and again he had tried to dissuade her from her plan but she had held firm, stubbornly professing her faith that the Anastasi would somehow rescue her in the end. Gedron had wanted to believe her, wanted it more than anything else in the world, but he was not fooled by her confident words. He could see the doubt in her eyes, and had left with the unshakeable conviction that he would never see her again.
“Shall I confirm with the Magog that all is in readiness?”
“Yes, Yithra,” said Gedron, snapping back to the present. Yithra-Gor bowed deeply and strode off to a nearby workstation. A few moments later a hologram of the bridge of the Magog coalesced in the air to his left. Gedron always had an eye for aesthetics, and the décor of the Magog offended that sense in a myriad of ways. Like its exterior, the bridge of the Magog was stark in design. No sculpted infochrystic columns nor golden dais adorned its spare volume. Instead, the bridge was formed of a series of gunmetal grey spires fused together in impossible angles. A convoluted series of platforms composed of glass and imagnite joined these spires in a Gordian knot of bewildering complexity. In the center of this chaos stood the Chromatocron and the Ouranos Radii, each dressed in the full regalia of their offices. Evidently a corresponding hologram was being projected in the Magog, for the Chromatocron turned his head to face Gedron and addressed him as if he were present.
“Is all in readiness within the Gog?”
“Yes”, replied Gedron. “We have only to wait for the Entrope. He desires to be present on the Gog’s bridge when the sculptors are activated.”
“Then the time is at hand, for I am here.”
Gedron turned to see the black robed figure of the Entrope stride onto the bridge accompanied by a squadron of his personal guards. They were clad in battle armor and carried crackling energy batons.
He truly does not trust me, thought Gedron.
Then Gedron frowned. The voice of the Entrope seemed somehow stronger than it had only days before. As if in response to his unspoken suspicion the Entrope reached up and pulled back the hood of his cloak, and Gedron’s eyes widened in surprise. Once gaunt and haggard, the Entrope’s face was now as young and fresh as that of a newborn. Only his piercing gaze remained unchanged.
“Do not look so discomfited,” snapped the Entrope. “Surely you knew that I must renew my body periodically. How else could I serve as the living repository of the Conclave’s base philosophy?”
“I have heard rumors of such things, but it is another matter to see the reality,” said Gedron. He paused for a moment, then added, “I see that you brought companions.”
“We are both aware of your questionable actions during the last ignition attempt,” answered the Entrope in a smooth voice. “I intend to assure that all proceeds as planned this time.”
Though the tone was friendly the threat that lay beneath was clear, and Gedron could not avoid the sense that this younger, stronger version was more predisposed to the use of force than his previous incarnation. If Trielle was successful he would not need to do anything to stop the vacuum sculptors, but beyond that he did not know what might happen. So much here depended on things beyond his control.
“High Gravitist, I see that the Entrope has joined you,” said the Ouranos Radii. “Is all now in readiness? Shall we proceed?”
“Allow me to make a final scan of the Vacuum Sculptor distribution to assure that it aligns much as is possible with the current gas distributions within Vai,” said Gedron.
“If you must,” replied the Chromatocron dismissively.
Gedron nodded grimly and turned again to the hologram of Vai. Raising his hands, he gave a sequence of commands that brought the green gravitometric mesh into sharp relief. He knew that matching the gravitational readings with the sculptor distributions would do little to alter the outcome of the process, but that was not his true intent. He was searching instead for the telltale gravitational distortion produced by the explosive decomposition of a laridian ring: proof of Trielle’s success, and of her sacrifice.
Gedron glanced quickly at the chronometric readout of a nearby infochryst. There were only six minutes left until ignition.
The precise time of reignition had been set days ago, and after some discussion he and Trielle had decided that the explosion should be timed for two to three minutes before the attempt. Detonate the ring too soon and they ran the risk of discovery by the vacuum sculptors’ diagnostic software; detonate the ring too late and it would not be effective as too much of the underlying quantum vacuum would have already been altered. But if the other Heirophants activated the vacuum sculptors early, then none of their careful planning would make a difference.
“Come now,” said the Entrope. “Surely this exercise is unnecessary.”
“It will only take a few more moments to complete the scan,” said Gedron with feigned calm.
He had to buy Trielle some time. He had to make sure that her life would not be sacrificed in vain.
***
Trielle’s ether chariot shrieked down a twisted corridor of spacetime, its laridian rings throwing off coruscating blue arcs of gravitic force. Trielle closed her eyes and mentally reviewed the control sequence that would inject the new waveform into the primary laridian ring and deactivate the containment fields. Once she broke through into realspace she would have little time to enact the sequence before the ship crashed into the photosphere of the star. Too deep within Vai’s bulk and the force of the explosion would be prematurely absorbed by the dense gases.
What if Anacrysis is not watching after all? What if I fail? What if I die?
The thoughts intruded on her preparations, and despite her best attempts Trielle was unable to dissipate the swarming cloud of doubts flitting about within her mind. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to turn the ship around and flee back down the tunnel of timespace to the safe confines of her home.
“And then what?” she said aloud, trying to regain control of her thoughts. “If the vacuum sculptors trigger a supernova then I die anyway, and so does everyone else I love.” Then a low tone sounded from the console. She had arrived.
With a crackle of azure lightning Trielle’s Ether Chariot emerged into Vai’s chromosphere. One moment all was darkness, and in the next she was flying through ghostly red clouds of dully glowing gas. Ahead of her stretched the photosphere of Vai, a seemingly infinite wall of churning brown and red plasma. Even within the Chariot’s shield the heat was intense. Her hands hovered over the control console. It was nearly time.
She waited until the wall was almost upon her, until the swirling gas seemed close enough to touch.
“Anacrysis,” she cried out suddenly, “I hope you are watching, because now would be an excellent time for a rescue!”
Trielle’s hands flew as she activated the control sequence. There was a sharp whine as the counter-wave was injected from the craft’s spare mesonic battery into the neutronium of the ship’s primary ring, followed by a shudder as the shielding fields were released. A sudden orange light flared behind her, and she turned to see a network of glowing cracks race quickly around the primary ring housing. All around her she could see the protective fields that held in her atmosphere and held out the burning gases flare, crackle, and begin to decay.
“Anacrysis,” she screamed. “Where are you?”
The primary ring housing failed with a sharp report, flooding the ether chariot with blinding orange light. An acrid stench of ozone filled the air, and Trielle looked up in terror to see the first wisps of stellar plasma breach the failing protective fields. Suddenly she was surrounded by translucent golden wings. She felt an abrupt lurch, and the universe fell away. Beneath the translucent surface of the world-wall Trielle could see the brilliant flare of the ether chariot’s detonation.
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” said Anacrysis. “If we’d rescued you sooner we might
have been detected. We may yet need the advantage of surprise before today is over.”
Trielle breathed a sigh of relief. Then her eyes widened as she saw, all around her, the massed armies of the Anastasi. They hovered just outside the crystal world-shell, legion upon legion of warriors resplendent in golden armor and bearing swords that burned like suns.
“This day,” said Anacrysis grimly, “the siege of the Sur Ekklesia ends.”
***
A sharp burst of light erupted from Vai’s photosphere as the ether chariot exploded in a sphere of white-hot plasma. Thousands of tons of neutronium disintegrated within milliseconds, releasing their trapped gravitic potential, and a shimmering torus of force burst from the boiling sphere. The gravity wave raced outward, carrying the correction wave within its vibrations, and as it washed over the vacuum sculptors the neutronium filaments inside them resonated, shifted, and began to sing a different note. The wave weakened as it spread and quickly diminished to a point where it could no longer affect the devices, but by then a substantial fraction had already been defused. The once-brilliant orb of plasma faded to a sullen orange cloud of gas that was soon dispersed by the winds of Vai’s chromosphere. In the end nothing remained save a drifting wisp of ash.
***
A tiny spike of green light disturbed the surface of the hologram, and Gedron felt a stab of pain in his chest. Fighting to maintain his calm appearance, he watched as the light flared, rippled for a moment, and vanished. The deed was done; the sacrifice made. At that moment Gedron he would have given anything to know that she had somehow survived, even as his rational mind told him that it was a frank impossibility.
Please, bring Trielle back to me! Bring Garin back to me!
Gedron railed against an indifferent universe, crying out to the powers that Trielle had trusted her life to but he could not yet believe in, and received the expected silence in return. He stared blankly at the hologram, trying to imaging a world without his daughter. His eyes grew moist with tears.
“My apologies for the delay,” he said at last said, all trace of emotion absent from his voice. “I am satisfied. We may begin.”
Chapter 34: The Son of Highest Heaven
Far below the Cosmic Rose, the deep boiled with mounting fury. Stray bolts of light erupted from its surface and the black waters writhed in response, as if trying to keep some irresistible force buried beneath their weight. All at once the waters massed together into the chaotic visage of Daath. His eyes were wide with pain and his jaws were clenched tightly shut. Fiery light spilled between his teeth.
NO! YOU CANNOT HAVE HER!
With a crackling sound the terrible face froze into a mask of black ice: a last, desperate attempt to hold the burning radiance in check. But the light was too strong. There was a sharp crack like the calving of an iceberg followed by a cry of unearthly agony. The face of Daath split in half, and the surface of Tehom burst open in a fountain of glory.
***
Beams of near solar intensity shone from the Well of Eternity, bathing the Cosmic Rose in golden effulgence. With each moment the light grew in brilliance, until Garin was forced to step back and shield his eyes. Then, just as the glare became intolerable, Kyr burst forth from the mouth of the well, soaring skyward on a pillar of incandescence brighter than the core of a star.
His robes were as white as new-fallen snow, and his form was wreathed in dazzling rainbows. Gone were the marks of age; his skin was now flawless, bright and fresh as a child’s. In his arms he carried a wounded woman clothed in tattered rags, and as he flew toward the heavens he raised the woman aloft and cried out in a loud voice.
“FATHER, I HAVE FOUND MY BRIDE! I AM COMING HOME!”
The woman body’s caught fire as he spoke. In a rush of crimson and gold her wounds were healed and her once tattered raiment became whole and clean. Bright beams rained down from her dazzling form onto the petals of the rose, and when the beams touched the ghosts their bodies were renewed. As one the newly incarnate ghosts rose and lifted their voices in a thunderous cry of all tongues and languages.
“Xu Xorba!”
“Al-Masih Qam!”
“Christos Anesti!”
High above, the wheeling spirits of the Arethoi drew swords of lightning and joined their voices to the cry of the re-embodied ghosts, transforming it into a mighty hymn that shook the Cosmic Rose to its roots. Then Garin noticed a soft sound beside him and he turned to see Mater Marya weeping.
“I am so proud of him…” she whispered softly.
Together they watched Kyr’s brilliant form grow smaller and smaller until it finally vanished into the deep blue heavens. Neither said a word. Neither needed to. At last Mater Marya looked down at him with shining eyes.
“It is time now, child,” she said tenderly. “My son goes to make all things new, and you must follow him.”
A soft wind rose as she spoke, stirring the dimming remnants of the column of flame on which Kyr had ascended into a gentle vortex of sparks. As the sparks spiraled downward they shifted and changed, at last hardening into a winding staircase of stars and darkness.
“See,” said Mater Marya with a smile, “my son has left you a road, as he has before. Climb now to the Temple Above All Worlds and take up the charge that has been laid before you. He waits for you there!”
A sudden flood of joy welled up in Garin’s heart, followed by the deep conviction that he at last had found what he had been searching for his entire life. His eyes brimming with tears, Garin embraced Mater Marya.
“I will go to him,” he whispered. “I will answer the call to be the last prophet of He Who Is, and when my work is done I will return here to the Rose.”
Turning from Mater Marya, Garin stepped out onto the Sovereign Road and began to climb. Soon the Cosmic Rose vanished beneath him and he was alone in the midst of the sky. Then the sky itself opened up and the world of Numenos fell away.
There were no other worlds left.
Chapter 35: The Final Stand
High-frequency radio waves streamed from the Gog and Magog, activating the countless vacuum sculptors scattered throughout Vai’s photosphere. Within each sculptor, minuscule laridian rings woke to life and began to pour out streams of virtual matter. Armatures whirled, channeling those streams toward the artificial extradimensional space at the device’s cores, and as the virtual matter flux passed the vibrating neutronium filaments the base state of the surrounding vacuum began to change, slowly altering the binding energy of the strong force.
The effect was weak at first, but strengthened steadily as millions of the devices flooded the body of the dead star with altered vacuum. The surface of Vai took on a shimmering, ephemeral quality as the properties of space shifted, and deep within the star’s core helium atoms began to overcome their innate electrical repulsion. Driven by pressure and attraction, the helium atoms drew closer and closer. But not close enough.
***
Gedron stood on the bridge of the Gog, his eyes fixed on the hologram of Vai. He watched intently as the surface of the star wavered like a desert mirage: silently counting the minutes, waiting for the first faint eruption of fusion fire. Though his emotions were raw, he maintained his impassive demeanor. No matter how he felt he had to play his role to the end. Assuming, of course, that the explosion had disarmed the vacuum sculptors. At last, judging that enough time had elapsed, he raised his hands and called up a diagnostic readout of Vai’s current state. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that the Chromatocron and Ouranos Radii had done the same.
Gedron silently examined each parameter: gas density, temperature, gamma ray emissions. The data was consistent with a lack of fusion events. A wave of relief surged through Gedron followed by a surge of grief and shame. How dare he feel anything now but despair? His daughter was gone. Only the certainty that she would want him to carry on gave him enough strength to continue.
“This data is unfortunate…”
The words came from the holographic image of
the Ouranos Radii.
“Yes it is,” responded the Chromatocron crisply. “It appears the devices have failed.”
“So it does,” said the Entrope darkly.
Gedron could see the deep suspicion in the Entrope’s eyes and tried his best to look discouraged, though he doubted his performance was entirely convincing. After a moment he turned to the hologram of the Magog’s bridge and addressed the Ouranos Radii.
“I am not as familiar with the construction of the vacuum sculptors as you. It is possible to reset them for a second attempt?”
“Unfortunately not,” replied the Ouranos Radii. “Once the devices are activated the neutronium core filaments rapidly become unstable, a side effect of their interactions with the virtual matter stream. By now the majority of them have almost certainly evaporated. If they have truly failed, then a new population must be seeded for a second attempt.”
Gedron nodded silently.
“What of the Etherreavers?” asked the Chromatocron. “Are they prepared for a second gravitic ignition attempt?”
Gedron turned to a nearby infochryst and called up the glassy, feathered visages of Harut and Marut. There was a brief flurry of data, then Gedron turned to the other heirophants and shook his head.
“Harut and Marut are still in the process of reconstituting the Neutronium Forge’s core programming, and they inform me that at least another several weeks will be needed,” he explained. “That effectively rules out the use of gravitics at this time.” He paused for a moment, trying his best to appear disappointed before finally adding, “Unfortunately we may be done here.”
“Far from it,” said the Entrope with more than a hint of iron. “High Gravitist, instruct the Etherreavers and the worldships to fire a concentric gravitic volley at Vai. Tell them to use the same settings as the first attempt.”
A flood of terror swept through Gedron. Though he knew the Entrope had little interest in a successful ignition, he had not expected him to declare his intentions so openly. Quickly gathering his thoughts, Gedron attempted to defuse the situation.
The Sovereign Road Page 32