Talia dropped to a knee and began the prayer of acknowledgment, her voice a high-pitched chant. With a start, Mik realized they were in the presence of the god Tower himself.
Mik performed his own clumsy bows, not really sure what the proper protocol required for a private audience with a god.
"Talia, Mik, thank you, but please get up," the god said. "We have too much to do without wasting time on groveling."
They looked up at him hesitantly, and saw that he was smiling, although in a way that was more sad than joyful. "And for my part, I'll drop the imperious pronouncements and deific posture."
"I knew it. Somewhere under all that magnificence there was just a man," Mik blurted out impulsively, immediately regretting it. God or man, Tower wielded power beyond Mik's comprehension.
If the rash outburst offended him, Tower did not show it. "Well, Mik, not just a man, technically," he said. "I'm sure you must have noticed."
Talia gently cleared her throat. "The deep scriptures tell of the origin of the gods, Mik. I would be happy to immerse you in the lessons." Mik picked up a distinct shut up tone to her voice.
"I apologize, guardian," Mik said, his face reddening. "This strange day has knocked the sense out of me."
"This strange day, yes," the god replied. "This strange day is why we meet here. As you've witnessed with your own eyes, The City is under attack. My energies are engaged in repelling several assaults, which is why you are only experiencing this small, pale reflection of my true myself."
Talia raised her head to look directly at the god. "Tower, where are we?"
"Deep under the surface of Skyra, and far away from The City. I've created gateways to a great many places that only respond to my commands. As you've discovered, the arch on the roof of the sanctuary is one of them. This chamber is another."
"We passed through Divine Space?"
The god smiled. "It's been called by many names over the centuries. But yes, I brought you here through pathways that exist outside the established parameters of space-time."
The revelation rocked Mik. So Divine Space can be manipulated even in the cracks of the world. I probably should have slept less during temple services. A part of his mind immediately began trying to recall the power signature of the sanctuary arch....
But Talia had the god's attention and wasn't letting go. "Who attacks us, Tower? And what were those creatures in the administrator's office?"
His reply was slow in coming for a god, Mik thought.
"I do not know," he said at last. "They do not reveal themselves. The creatures that you saw, Talia, are not from any known world. The ships that battle my sentries on the edge of Cityspace are likewise unidentified. Communication between other gods and human outposts has been severed or blocked." The god hesitated before continuing. "It would take a very great power to do these things."
"Did you bring us here for our safety, guardian?"
A very human, and mortal, expression crossed the god's face, as if he had never even considered that possibility. "Safety? No, Talia. I have pulled you directly into the heart of the danger. But it is necessary. I'm afraid I have a rather ungodly confession to make. You see, I'm dying."
7
The Second Lesson
The people are few, and scattered, and weak. We survive only because the gods protect us.
But it was not always so.
Before the Otrid came and laid waste to Earth, mankind's original home, we were many, and strong, and commanded great fleets of ships. We had a powerful friend in the alien species we call the Benefactors, and with their guidance we flourished.
But the Benefactors had equally powerful enemies—the Otrid. They hated the Benefactors and all who stood with them. Out of the darkness they came and made war upon the Benefactors and humans. The Otrid were relentless and cruel, and the great fleet of human ships could not stop them from murdering the beautiful blue Earth. In the end only 4,027 souls managed to escape the dying homeworld on humanity's last remaining starships.
The people fled to the only friends the human race had ever found among the stars, the giant alien Benefactors.
Despite the trials of their own fight against the Otrid, the Benefactors embraced the remnants of humanity, and took pity on the people.
They bestowed many gifts upon them, gifts to help them survive in a hostile galaxy.
But they made the remaining men and women decide for themselves how these gifts should be used, because if every person accepted the gifts, the people would not truly be human any more.
The seven bravest and most capable survivors were chosen by the people to accept these gifts and use them to protect humanity.
The gifts altered them, and gave them great powers.
These seven became our gods.
8
The Winds of Mortality
Talia was not taking the news well.
It was heartbreaking witnessing the collapse of her composure. No, Mik corrected himself, the collapse of her world.
He corrected himself further. Our world.
Mik had that feeling inside like his guts were squirming and constricting. The god dying? If he fell, The City would be open and undefended against outside invaders. The god controlled all aspects of The City's defense. Mik's thoughts raced to his brothers and sisters on the far side of The City, and he started to feel panic rise inside him at the idea that even now they may be fleeing from some sort of bizarre, hostile aliens.
Invaders from beyond was the oldest fear of the human race, and the tragedy of Earth's demise was the catalyst that flung the remnants of humanity across the stars and established the rule of the gods. Once when he was young he had read a fantastical story about a fictional invasion of The City. It was a well-crafted tale, but Mik had dismissed it immediately. His mind ran in much more clearly defined channels of reality.
Nothing since then, until this very moment, had challenged that attitude. Mik was not the most ardent student of history, but as far as he could recall, no hostile alien power had revealed itself in all the long years since the establishment of the gods, The City, and its counterparts.
And more, Mik could scarcely conceive of what kind of power it would take to overthrow one of the gods. Yes, Mik had had his doubts about the true divinity of the god Tower, but his power was never in question. Mik had crawled through every corner of The City. He had measured the impossible surges of energy, marveled at the unfathomable complexity of the systems Tower controlled. He had traveled in the sentry ships that guarded Cityspace like ferocious birds of prey. The hand of the god could be identified down to the atomic level. Only yesterday, the idea of an attack against Tower's domain seemed impossible.
And then came today.
Talia rushed to the god and very nearly threw her arms around him, before catching herself. The expression she wore balanced right on the edge of despair and disbelief.
Her voice was brittle. "How can you die?"
"Don't be afraid," the god said. "It will take a while yet to completely extinguish the fires of my existence."
The practical curiosity that was never far below the surface of Mik's mind reasserted itself.
"As a matter of physics, Tower, how is that even possible?"
Mik watched as the god once more hesitated in responding, as if forcing himself to divulge information that he would rather not. "You may recall from the histories that there is an aspect of godhood that is not entirely derived from human ingenuity. It is this side of me that has been attacked and corrupted by the invaders. They have burrowed into the information sphere that supports this alien technology. Their assault burns through my perceptions like acid. My powers are dissipating. Soon, my life will as well."
Talia took another step toward the god. Mik noticed that her hands were clasped together so tightly the knuckles were turning white. "'Not derived from human ingenuity?' Are you talking about the gifts from the Benefactors?"
The god vanished. Talia's startled gasp echoed softly in
the cavern.
She looked at Mik and moved quickly toward him, taking his arm. He could feel her body sagging, on the verge of collapse, so he guided her to the floor and sat with her, arm around her shoulders.
They were silent for a time.
"You know," he said at last, "this is not as much fun as the evening I had planned for us."
She looked at him as if he were a chair that had suddenly started talking.
"Honestly, I expected us to be on our second bottle of wine by now, and me applying all my engineering skills to get you out of your acolyte's robe," he said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. The world appears to be ending. By Maelstrom, no sense in holding back how you feel now.
She watched him blankly for a moment, and then the faint traces of a smile drifted across her face. "It wouldn't have taken the second bottle."
Despite the shock and tragedy of the day, Mik felt the warmth of her reply cascade through him. The world still had her in it, so things couldn't be that bad. He hugged her more tightly to him.
When it became apparent the god was not immediately coming back, Mik stood and walked over to inspect the sentry ship. He heard Talia get up behind him and follow. The ship sat inert, but looked no less dangerous in its stillness. The flat black surface absorbed all light as if the ship was at war with the concept of illumination itself. Weapons pods lined its surface like hungry mouths open to feed.
"This is a new class of ship, one I haven't seen before," he said.
"What's it doing here? Shouldn't it be out fighting?"
"I don't know," Mik said. "Maybe Tower is holding it back for something?"
He headed around to the rear of the ship and was surprised to discover an open hatch and a ramp extended down to the floor of the cavern. Servitor robots quietly scurried in and out of the ship. Mik stepped over and around the busy machines and slipped inside the craft. The interior was crawling with activity. Sections of the ship were being hastily reconfigured.
Mik walked back down the ramp and stood next to Talia. "It doesn't look like it's going to be here much longer," he said.
"Indeed, it isn't," came a voice from behind them. Tower's avatar was standing in a spot that had been empty only a moment before. It was startling, but not terribly so. Mik was becoming used to unexpected strangeness materializing from all sides.
The god's appearance was unchanged from earlier. "I apologize for my temporary absence. The micro sentinel swarm required direction in a particular sector. I now know with great precision how long it takes to dismantle one of the enemy ships. With luck, such small victories will lead to larger ones."
Mik and Talia stepped aside as the god passed between them. He paused at the base of the ramp and turned toward Mik. Tower's eyes were a riot of boiling colors, great storms rising to the surface and then sinking again. Mik imagined they were reflecting the great battle being waged in CitySpace.
"Do you like the ship?"
Distracted by the tempest within the god's eyes, Mik could only nod. It took a minute to find his voice. "What's its name?"
"It doesn't have one yet," the god replied in a voice as turbulent as his eyes. "You should name it. Because you're going to pilot it."
9
Man and Machine
Mik lost track of time while the god inundated him with information about the ship's systems.
He absorbed the instructions greedily, with the inquisitiveness that he always brought to an encounter with unfamiliar technical schematics. The fact that the ship was of a new type, never before seen by another human, gripped his imagination
Tower dispensed data and technological concepts in a torrent, as if Mik were a vast and powerful artificial intelligence accepting a download. His attention was riveted on the process of understanding the ship. They conversed in a rapid-fire cadence. Mik asked brief, clipped questions and received efficient, precise answers. He mentally sorted and prioritized the functional underpinnings of the engines, weapons, navigation and life support systems.
The design of the ship was logical and lethally functional, beautifully so, even. Everything about it made perfect sense—except divining the purpose for Mik being there.
When they finished the briefing on the workings of the command center of the bridge, Mik leaned back and stretched muscles that had grown tight. He glanced toward the rear of the ship and noticed Talia was no longer watching over their shoulders. She had apparently wandered off, since it had quickly become obvious that her role in the struggle was to be entirely different than his.
"Tower, what's my mission? The ship is magnificent, but I can't imagine I'll be much good sent out into battle in this lone vessel."
"Battle? No. You will be running as if a supernova was exploding behind you. You're going to be a blockade runner, Mik. Your mission is to break out from the siege zone around Cityspace and send a message."
"A message? Who'll be out there to hear it?"
"Maelstrom, of course."
Mik's mind locked up, not sure if he had heard correctly. His mission was to contact the king of the gods, the highest in the hierarchy? He would be running through a gauntlet of enemies that had already eliminated most of the ships in the defense fleet on an assignment so desperate that it would only work if he was able to make contact with the most powerful of humanity's gods?
"I'd like to record my final message for my loved ones now, please."
"Of course," the god replied. "Use the ship. You have ten seconds. Or less, ideally. Recall that our enemies are furiously engaged in eradicating us."
"Um, yes, Tower. Perhaps the message can wait."
Mik swung himself into the command chair and began making ergonomic adjustments. It seemed a necessary, but easy, thing to do, now that his concentration was broken. The thrill of mastering the ship's systems was giving way to the weight of the responsibility that was settling over him.
"Tower, why me? You must have hundreds of experienced people who could handle this mission better than I."
"Who do you think these 'experienced people' are? Have you met any?"
"No, but I spend a lot of time underground. I get focused on my area, and sometimes miss a lot of what goes on above me."
"Do you have much company under there?"
"No."
"Have you met anyone who understands the physical workings of The City better than you?"
Mik took the time to consider the question, and was surprised by his answer. "No. I assumed they must have been assigned to different sectors of The City."
"Don't be modest," the god said. "I've seen you in the tunnels and other places. You labor diligently, the best Fixer I've seen in ages. You tear systems apart and put them back together, you dive into the biomechanical tissue of The City until you understand the workings completely. You even discover problems I miss. Other men are merely content that the wonders of The City work. You seek to understand how."
"Just the way I'm made, I guess. Is that really so unique?"
The god avatar gave a sort of sigh. "It brings me no joy to see the curiosity and industry of so many people buried beneath comfort. The wonders of The City were not meant to be taken for granted. If you could have lived through the terror and chaos of the founding, you'd never take anything for granted again."
Mik was amazed that the god was conversing with him as if they were two friends sitting together at a bar, swigging ale.
"But to answer your question, the traits you possess really are unique. During the calamities, when we were reduced, only a handful of bloodlines survived. Many human traits that were once common became rare. Factor that with a thousand years of the human race living in god-directed cities that regulate and repair themselves, and eventually someone like you finds himself roaming the maintenance tunnels alone."
Mik felt a small burst of pleasure at the compliment, but it withered quickly. Somehow, the revelation made him feel even more vulnerable. "I'll take your word on that of course," Mik said. "Even so—why d
oesn't this ship have an active mind? Even if I'm a qualified human, I can't possibly process the information as quickly and efficiently as a ship mind."
"Indeed you can't," the god replied. "But that will work to our advantage. The mind of a ship shines like a beacon across space. A single human mind is like the glow of a candle by comparison. No offense."
"What's a candle?"
The god laughed. "My age betrays me. More than anyone, I should know that the manufacture of cotton wicks encased in wax cylinders is a dead industry. But you take my point? A higher-level ship mind, animated by the direction of a god, is powerful enough to be detected on the far side of the solar system, at least by those who know how to search. A single human mind remains quietly ensconced within its skull where it belongs."
"Got it. Stupid works to our advantage."
"Stealth works to our advantage. Stupid never does. But there's another reason to send you out in place of a ship mind. I told you how aspects of my power did not originate from human science. Those are the areas that are being corrupted in this assault, and that includes my control over the ships. I am fighting to maintain my grip even now, and failing. They will die with me." The god was silent for a moment, letting the implications sink in. When he continued, his voice was surprisingly wistful in a very human way that Mik did not normally associate with godhood. "This craft was to be the next generation of sentry ship. But that can never be. You're being sent out in a starship guided by no mind other than your own."
Mik nodded and turned toward the makeshift cockpit. He didn't want the god to see the look on his face as he contemplated the astonishing confession of The City's deity. The confirmation of the destruction of the sentry ships hit him like a physical blow. He had spent his youth constructing models and designing imaginary holo battles of the great ships that defended Cityspace. The trip on Mercury Eclipse was a highlight of his life. They were extensions of the god himself. For them to be gone....
Gods and The City Page 4