Supernova

by C. A. Higgins

  Through the static, for a moment, the face and figure of the dead Ida Stays smiled and moved her head, her dark lips moving with soundless words.

  Then, into all that silence, Ananke said, I DID IT.

  The ghostly shape of Ida Stays vanished, and Ananke reappeared in the holographic terminal, her blue eyes glowing with inhuman light. Her skin was darker, her hair curlier; she looked more like Althea now than ever. She said, “I have them,” and sounded fierce and uncertain and bold and afraid.

  On the viewscreen, the six points of light jerked and drifted, their carefully plotted trajectories growing wild, chaotic. “I have them,” and I HAVE THEM, said Ananke in her voice and on the screens all around, and Althea said, “Yes, you do. Good, Ananke,” but before Althea could be relieved that the danger had been averted, the destruction prevented, the hologram shivered, and the points of light outside began to whirl and shudder faster than before.

  Althea pushed to her feet. “What are you doing?” she asked with her heart pounding in her head, and after another moment that was filled with the same indrawn potential as a sucked-in breath, the alarms on the ship began to blare again, the lights on the computer panels began to blink, and the hologram’s brilliant light faded to a more normal shade.

  But Althea’s attention was arrested by the six points of light outside the ship, the six System warships that continued to drift aimlessly through space.

  The alarms on the Ananke went silent.

  “I had to control them,” Ananke said. “It was hard to connect with their engines. They were about to fire. I had to control them.”

  Quite strangely, Althea thought of Gagnon. She thought of the way he had fallen, the twitch of his body the moment before he vanished from her sight, that last twitch before he died.

  “Ananke,” said Althea, “what did you do?”

  —

  “Rapid change is always violent,” Milla Ivanov said.

  Constance heard her but did not reply. She looked down at the map below her outstretched arms. The ceiling was so low in this room. Who had decided to build a room with a ceiling so low?

  “Always,” Milla said, though Constance had said nothing in response to her words. “Even in physics. Slow change—semistatic—is peaceful. The system stays in a sort of equilibrium even as it’s changing, and once it’s done changing, once it reaches that new equilibrium, it stays there. But fast change, fast change is violent.”

  Beneath Constance’s outstretched arms, a town had been circled on the surface of Venus. Kidwelly in the Themis Regio. She studied it and the terrain around the town, the arrows and boxes sketched onto the map. Checking one final time.

  “It oscillates,” said Milla. “Fast change induces fluctuations, chaos, unpredictable behavior. It doesn’t settle down at the equilibrium right away. It ripples. It changes. It’s violent.”

  There was a rifle on the table, on top of the map, out of the way of the diagrams drawn on it. Constance hefted it, checked it over. The ammunition had been loaded already. It had a full clip. The weapon had been cleaned recently, by Constance herself, a few hours earlier. It was ready to go.

  “It’s the same with people,” Milla said. “Change a society over generations and it’ll be peaceful. It will be slow, but it will be peaceful. No one will notice. But a rapid change, that’s violent. That’s a revolution. We needed a rapid change. But the violence is unavoidable.”

  Her weapon was fully loaded. Constance slid the clip back into the rifle with a click. She looked up at Milla Ivanov and found that Ivan’s mother was watching her with dim and distant compassion on her usually impassive face.

  “Unavoidable,” Constance said without any doubt in her voice, because she’d listened to Milla Ivanov those weeks ago and knew not to show weakness anymore.

  Behind Constance, the door opened.

  “You’re late,” Constance said, because she knew that it was Arawn who had arrived, with their guest beside him. “Are you ready?”

  “Always,” Arawn said.

  “Good,” said Constance. “Milla, stay with the ships. Keep them out of the battle but near enough to lend aid should things go badly.”

  Milla nodded slowly, her Ivanov-blue eyes fixed on Constance’s face.

  “You won’t need to get involved. Kidwelly’s a small town,” Arawn said with the satisfaction of a dog that knows it is about to be taken on a hunt. “We should be able to take it without much trouble. Greene and her people won’t put up much of a fight.”

  There was nothing Constance could say to that. “Remember,” she said to them all, lifting her rifle up in her gloved hands and resting it against the padded protected surface of her chest, “the System is our enemy. It will be hard to tell in the heat of battle. But as far as is possible, I want only the System dead, not any Venereans who have been pulled into Greene’s war.”

  She looked at them then, her hounds, the ones who would follow her into battle. Milla was serene and impassive, as hard as diamond; Arawn had a fierce and wild look.

  And behind Arawn, with body armor on and a weapon strapped to his hip, walking among them like one of them, was Kip Altais.

  “Let’s go,” said the Mallt-y-Nos, and led her people to war.

  Chapter 3

  RED GIANT

  SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE FALL OF EARTH

  There were broadcast screens mounted every few feet on the walls of the Lunar shopping court, and each one of them was displaying System news about the riots on Triton.

  Constance kept an eye on them as she walked down the path beside Ivan, her hand tucked up into his elbow. She smiled when he spoke to her and remarked on what he indicated to her she should remark on, but her thoughts and her attention were on those inescapable screens.

  Ivan must have noticed it, but it was Mattie who called attention to it.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, and produced a small coin out of nowhere. It was old Earth currency. The System no longer had any use for coins; all their currency was electronic and closely monitored. They had passed an antiquities shop some time earlier, and she had a suspicion that Mattie had lifted the coin then and there. Constance put her hand over Mattie’s, hiding the coin from sight before any of the dense array of cameras overhead could get a good look at it.

  “I’m just getting used to the gravity,” she told him sternly, and pushed his hand down. Mattie wrinkled his nose at her caution.

  “It takes some getting used to,” Ivan interjected. “If you’d rather, we can go to the observation deck and shop later.”

  The spending of money on frivolities would always be an alien thing to Constance. But this trip was disguised as Mattie and Ivan taking her out, and she was disguised as a shallow-minded woman, and most important, the shopping court was where their rendezvous with Julian Keys had been arranged.

  “Let’s just walk a little slower,” she suggested, and Ivan shortened his steps.

  Mattie sighed.

  “Your subtle way of expressing your feelings is always impressive to me,” Ivan said.

  “As long as there’s that,” Mattie said. “How long are we going to shop?”

  “As long as Connie would like to.”

  Connie would like to stop shopping and blow something up. She had a dark suspicion that Ivan was enjoying this masquerade.

  “I’m enjoying myself, Mattie,” she said through teeth that were nearly gritted. “Try not to be a prick.”

  Mattie grinned.

  Luna was all coal-black stone and ashy dust underfoot. The buildings had been designed in a bourgeois imitation of Terran architecture, made of steel and glass and occasionally expensive wood imported from the Earth below. The cheapest buildings, though, were made of Lunar stone quarried from nearby, and the glitz and glamour of stolen Terran shine could not hide the moon’s own stone. As bright as Luna was when seen on Earth—Constance had heard it was very bright—the stone of the moon was as black as coal, dark and dull, with none of the moon’s fabled luminous s
hine. The whole place struck Constance as deceptive and false, from the architecture and the imported vegetation that tried to give the impression that this place was Earth to the cameras that bristled from every possible surface. She did not like it.

  All those cameras, she thought, her eyes roving over the ceiling of the enclosed shopping center. This was the kind of place in which Ivan had grown up.

  Just as it was impossible to avoid the System seeing her, so it was impossible for her to avoid seeing the System: those broadcast screens were everywhere. Constance could not tear her eyes from them. RIOTS ON TRITON, they said. TERRORIST ATTACKS ON THE OUTER PLANETS.

  Constance had talked to Anji and Christoph that morning, just before landing on Luna. Anji had assured her that the riots were under control—or “controllably uncontrolled,” she’d said with dusty humor and an air of quoting Ivan—and Christoph had confirmed that the System’s fleet was en route but had not arrived yet. So Constance knew that her friends lived and her plan was falling into perfect order, yet still something inside of her was coiled up tight. She could take only grim and bitter satisfaction from the knowledge that while the System broadcast its own atrocities, the very woman who had planned the riots stood beneath all their thousand mechanical eyes and planned to do far worse the moment she had the chance.

  “Julian?” Ivan said with the perfect note of surprise in his voice, and Constance broke her attention from the screens.

  “Julian!” Ivan said, lifting a hand and pulling out of Constance’s grip to stride across the shopping court’s open central expanse, waving at a man on the other side. The man turned at the sound of his name. A tall, elegant man grown more elegant as he aged; his skin was as dark as skin could be, and his hair had turned to ashes on his head. When he saw Ivan, he smiled, showing white teeth and sending wrinkles rippling over the flesh of his face. He and Ivan clasped each other by the arms, as close to an embrace as Constance had ever seen Ivan come with a relative stranger, and then Julian lifted one hand and laid it on Ivan’s cheek fondly, as if Ivan were a child.

  The moment had come. The spark lit in Constance’s chest again and used for timber all the tension in her limbs. She strode off after Ivan, with Mattie a half a step behind.

  “It’s been years since last I saw you,” Julian said. There was something off about his accent to Constance’s ears; after a moment she realized with some surprise that he was not Terran natively. A Lunar accent muddled his Terran consonants. She wondered if he had agreed to the moon as a rendezvous point as much because it was his birthplace as because it was close to Earth. “You’ve grown so much. How is your mother?”

  “It’s been some time since I’ve spoken with her,” Ivan said.

  “I’d heard you left home,” said Julian.

  “I’m afraid I did,” Ivan said, and then turned as Constance and Mattie came up behind him. “Julian, these are some friends of mine. This is Constance, my girlfriend, and Mattie, my business partner.” He was very good, of course. There was not the slightest hesitation before the words “business partner.”

  “Business partner?” Julian asked politely. “What do you do?” He extended his hand to Mattie to shake.

  Mattie took it. “We’re traveling salesmen,” he said, and exchanged the most fleeting of amused glances with Ivan.

  Julian nodded. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said, and then turned to Constance. “And you as well, miss.”

  Constance took his hand. His grip was firm, cool, and dry.

  “A pleasure,” Constance echoed, and shook his hand firmly. To the System watching, their interaction would look like nothing more than an older man’s gallantry toward a younger woman, but Constance recognized it for the acknowledgment it was.

  This was not her first time speaking to Julian, of course. Ivan had put them in contact almost two years earlier. That contact had been intermittent and entirely written; she had never seen or spoken to him before. But she knew enough of him to trust him on his own merits, not just Ivan’s word.

  But the System could not know that.

  “What takes you to Luna?” Julian asked, turning back to Ivan.

  Ivan smiled, a hint of embarrassment in his face, a young man in love and shy about admitting it. “Mattie and I were just taking Constance around. She’s always wanted to come here. Mattie and Constance were foster siblings.”

  Constance smiled when she was supposed to, but the smile felt stiff on her cheeks. Ivan wore his persona so naturally. She couldn’t understand how he could bear to do that, and knowing that every emotion he showed now was a lie made it harder for her to watch.

  “Were you?” Julian asked, and smiled paternally at them. “I would have mistaken you for blood relatives, you look so much alike.”

  “I’m much more good-looking,” said Mattie.

  “Shut up, Matthew,” Constance said, still smiling.

  “Where are you staying?” Ivan asked Julian. “We’ll pay you a visit.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ll be on my way back to Terra before long,” Julian said with very Terran regret, polite and distant. “If you have a moment, you might stop by; I am staying on board my own ship, down in the docks. It’s a very distinctive ship—Lunar class, shaped like a star—but if you can’t find it, it’s right beside the System refueling ship Hertzsprung.”

  “System refueling ships don’t stay docked for long, though,” Ivan remarked. “Is there another landmark we should look out for?”

  “No, you’re quite right. And if I remember correctly, the Hertzsprung will go into its orbit today at around Terran Central Standard time 1500 hours. But if you can’t visit me by that time, Leon, I’m afraid I won’t have time to visit. I’ll be leaving at 1700 hours myself.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to detain you,” Ivan said with a smile. “I’m glad I got to see you again, even if it was just for a moment.”

  Julian glanced around at Mattie and Constance. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping.”

  “Of course,” Constance said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr.—” She remembered at the last moment that Ivan had not publicly told her Julian’s last name.

  “Just Julian, please,” Julian said, sending his wrinkles crinkling up into his eyes when he smiled at her. “And it was nice to meet you as well, Mattie. Take care of this boy, will you?”

  “As long as he lets me,” Mattie said.

  “Of course,” Julian said. “If you see your mother again, send her my regards.” He held Ivan’s arm again, pressing it with surprising seriousness, then went on his way.

  Constance watched him go. Terrans. The conversation had been wholly innocuous, completely innocent, yet he and Ivan had managed to provide each other with a time, a place, and the name of a ship with which to carry out the rest of their plan.

  “Shall we?” Ivan invited, and offered Constance his arm again.

  She took it. “Mattie?”

  “I think I’ll leave you to your shopping,” Mattie said, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. There was a suspicious jingle from one of them, like coins rattling against one another. He affected not to notice Constance’s glare. “I’m going to go back to the ship.”

  “Our trip isn’t inspiring you?” Ivan asked drily.

  “No,” Mattie said, “it’s boring me.”

  “Can you find your way back on your own?”

  “I think I’ll manage somehow, thanks, Ivan.”

  Ivan grinned. “Have a good nap,” he said.

  “Enjoy your shopping,” Mattie said, and left in the opposite direction than Julian had gone.

  When he was gone, Ivan’s smile faded. He sighed. The System watching would think it was exasperation, perhaps, but Constance knew better.

  Mattie had the most difficult task of them all in this plan of Ivan’s. Constance knew that that was not by Ivan’s choice but by necessity. She squeezed his arm and took a step forward, and he fell in alongside her.

  The broadcast screens showed fire and violen
ce on Triton. Constance watched a wave of Tritonese rush a group of System soldiers. The filming was well done: the Tritonese looked savage and wild. But no amount of clever camera work could hide the brutality of the System’s retaliation, firing again and again into the densely packed bodies. The camera cut away as soon as it could.

  RIOTS ON TRITON, said the broadcast screen. TERRORIST ACTIVITY. THE SYSTEM IS SUPPRESSING THEM AND RESTORING PEACE TO THE MOON.

  Somewhere in that bloodshed, Anji fought and Christoph waged war. Here, beneath the violence showing on the screens, the Lunar residents and Terran tourists walked around, carefree and casual, talking and laughing as if they did not notice the images of others suffering.

  “I’m done shopping,” Constance said abruptly. “Let’s go to the observation deck.”

  “All right,” Ivan said, and led the way.

  The observation deck was adjacent to the shopping center. She and Ivan followed the signs directing them there, and when they stepped out of the shopping center and onto the observation deck, despite herself, she caught her breath.

  Simulation and artiface, more falsity here than there was even on the rest of the moon. The Earth-facing side of the moon was almost as elite and aloof as Earth itself, and Ivan had persuaded her not to try to vacation there. It was too risky, he’d told her; the surveillance there was too great, the System police too powerful a force. It was only Terra and Luna that had police. The rest of the planets had the System military as police and conquering army both. Constance had yielded to Ivan’s greater knowledge, and so she and Mattie and Ivan had booked a trip for the dark side of the moon.

  Luna was tidally locked to Earth, and so the dark side would never look upon the mother planet. But anyone who came to Luna would want to see the Earth, and the tourism industry on the moon knew it. On the Earth-facing side, that was simple: observation decks were erected over the moon’s surface, allowing visitors to come and look down upon the blue planet. On the dark side of the moon, tourists wanted the same thing but could not have it directly, so the System had done the next best thing and lied.