by Gary Gibson
‘It’s the middle of the night,’ Vincent insisted, as Eddie brushed by him and headed for his kitchen.
‘I have to be back on the moon within seventy-two hours,’ said Eddie. ‘That means I can only stick around here for maybe two hours, maximum. We can do some serious talking in that time. Then you can get ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ Vincent half-stumbled to the kitchen, where Eddie shoved a mug into his hand, filled with something hot and black. He sipped at it, scowling as the coffee burnt his tongue.
‘For the moon,’ said Eddie. ‘You’re coming with me, then you’re going on to Kasper.’
‘Kasper?’ Vincent registered the information, nodded his head. Somehow it seemed the logical conclusion. It was, after all, the closest star system to the Event.
The Event – he mulled the word over as he went back into his living room and found Eddie already tapping away at the coloured buttons on the smartsheets. That was how he had come to think of it: it was the Event. Such a mild word, really, to describe something so enormous and yet far away. ‘What do I do when I get there?’
‘Liaise,’ explained Eddie. ‘Talk to people there who’ll be expecting you. You’re going to be my representative, since you know as much as I do – more, as a matter of fact – about what’s going to happen. You do realize the implications of this business, don’t you?’
Vincent drank down more of his coffee. ‘Sure, of course: a galaxy-wide event that threatens life everywhere. Like a big gun firing off gamma bullets from the heart of the galaxy, ripping through space at the speed of light, regular as clockwork every few hundred million years. We have to prepare for it, find a way to block the radiation – maybe some kind of shield that can save the Earth. But it could be a lot worse, of course.’
‘A lot worse.’ Eddie nodded. ‘A lot worse how?’
When he thought about it, it wasn’t so much the fact that Eddie had proven a theory that, until mere days ago, had constituted little more than theoretical abstraction which bothered him. It was that Eddie had known things Vincent might never have found out himself, or at least not until everyone else had found out too. The only way, after all, to really find out about what was going on in the heart of the galaxy was to actually go there. That wasn’t possible, of course, or so Vincent had thought.
The Angel Stations acted as bridges between widely separated corners of the galaxy, yet as far as Vincent had known, until only a few days ago, they were the only way that mankind could access distant star systems within something less than a lifetime. In just a few days, everything regarding that had changed.
You could never really know exactly what was happening in another part of the galaxy while you were looking at it, because what you were seeing through an optical or radio telescope was something already long dead, a snapshot of the galaxy as it had been ten, twenty, thirty thousand years before. Knowing what was happening now was a whole different ball game. That was possible, thanks to the Angel Stations, but only to a limited extent. The Arrays stationed near several of the Angel Stations, spaced out over a volume of space approximately twenty thousand light years in diameter, were sufficient in themselves to lend historical truth to Vincent’s theories.
Regular surges of life-destroying radiation would be created as stars scattered across the galaxy violently exploded almost at once, although what might bring about such a cataclysm Vincent couldn’t even begin to imagine. Nothing in nature could possibly account for such a phenomenon: it was like switching on a Christmas tree big enough to light up the universe.
The radiation produced by this cataclysmic event would then sweep through the galaxy, implacably destroying higher-order species, leaving other organisms to rise to the top of the food chain in their place.
But sometimes, Vincent had realized, you could be too abstract in your theorizing, so that when the cold hard implications of what you had discovered came knocking at the door, your gut instinct was to run and hide. But even that realization paled next to what Vincent now knew, and he wasn’t sure whether to be awestruck or appalled that this had been going on so long without his – or almost anyone else’s – knowledge.
‘It could be a lot worse, Eddie, because we’re thousands of light years from the nearest of the gamma-ray bursters – tens of thousands, in fact. That means we have a lot more time than civilization has even existed on Earth to get ready for it, to prepare for it and . . . I don’t know, prevent it or something.’
‘Okay. But what about the Kaspians?’
Vincent had thought about that, of course, but only in an abstract sense, one more factor to be accounted for in an overwhelming mass of new data he needed to absorb. Perhaps, too abstractly.
‘The Kaspians?’ Vincent shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Eddie. I’m open to ideas. I know they’re a lot closer to the wavefront.’
‘Vincent, they have barely a year before the gamma wavefront hits them, and then the only civilization – the only extant intelligent life outside of the human race, for all we know – will simply cease to exist. Have you thought about that?’
‘There’s too much to think about. What about these probes, for God’s sake?’ Tiny things, marvels of molecular design constructed in the utmost secrecy before being flung across the galaxy. It was all there in Eddie’s smartsheet, along with digital images of vistas unimaginable, of the great blaze of stars towards the galactic core. ‘I had no idea, Eddie. All this time, and not a hint, no clue of any kind we’d discovered how to build an ftl drive from the Angels.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s still a secret – for now, anyway. And remember it’s just a few tiny probes we’ve sent in towards the galactic core, and I really mean tiny. You have no idea the’ – Eddie spun his hands around, in small circles in front of his chest – ‘the magnitude of the cost, in money as well as energy. Really.’
Eddie stared at Vincent, saw his friend’s hurt expression. ‘It’s a secret, for God’s sake, Vincent. And it’s still a secret, right? You read the security clause on the first sheet, I hope.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I read it.’ Legalese, but Vincent had paid no less attention to it nonetheless, when he’d realized just what kind of information was contained on the smartsheets. Just by having accepted them from Eddie, he’d become part of a Big Secret. And if he told anyone about that Big Secret, it warned with unswerving explicitness, he’d be in Big Trouble. ‘I understand, Eddie, I really do. This is – huge. It’s just a lot to take in.’
‘That’s fine, Vincent. But you’ve got a lot of work to do. We both do.’
‘So what are we going to do now? Save the Kaspians?’ Vincent thought of the popular image of the Kaspians; wolf-like, sharp-toothed things almost like talking animals out of a child’s fairy-tale book. But in fact they were real, living creatures that fought and dreamed and died on a world far, far away. He tried to picture them assembling in great queues extending over far horizons, quietly stepping up onto long platforms to board great cavernous spaceships with welcoming humans standing by the entrances, but that was an absurd thought. There were big starships available – almost always military craft – but how many Kaspians could be rescued before the radiation arrived in less than a year’s time? A pitifully small number, he suspected.
‘Maybe. Yes, if we can. What do you think?’ Eddie’s eyes, bright and round, were watching Vincent carefully. He really wants to know if I’ve got any ideas, thought Vincent. But Vincent couldn’t think of anything. All he could register in his mind’s eye was tragedy.
‘We’ve known about this for a while, haven’t we?’ said Vincent, finishing his coffee. He slumped down on a couch, stretching out and letting one leg slide to the floor while the other pushed into the cushions. The fatigue was coming back again, as it had many times over the past two nights – before some sudden new thought occurred to him and he began poring over the smartsheets, making notes and muttering quietly to himself.
‘Not that long: less than a year since we’ve had enough data. Not all of the probe
s make it back. The ftl technology is still in its early days, so sometimes there was guesswork involved.’ Eddie stepped through to the kitchen again for a moment; his voice became briefly muffled before he returned, carrying an empty wastebasket. ‘Then, because this is a secret, the funds for the probes can’t come through the normal civilian channels, since too many questions would then be asked. So, mostly it’s military money. Top Secret all the way. Very expensive.’
‘How expensive?’
‘Don’t ask – really. You’d be shocked. Expensive enough to make very sure smartsheets like these can’t fall into the wrong hands.’
‘Oh.’ Vincent reached again for the smartsheet, now lying on the table next to the couch, but Eddie picked it up and dropped it into the wastebasket. ‘So, what about the Kaspians? Are you really going to try and rescue them?’
‘No.’
Vincent felt a shock run through him. ‘But you said—?’
‘I didn’t say anything, I just asked you for ideas. The people in the know have been talking for a long time about what to do with the Kaspians, but that’s all they’ve been doing – talking. There were even some idiots who said we shouldn’t even try, that it would be interfering with the course of nature, the natural evolution of the planet. Can you imagine that?’
Vincent watched Eddie carefully. A bright gleam had come to his eyes, and something else that – when he thought about it later – brought the word haunted to mind. ‘Look, when I say no,’ Eddie said, ‘I don’t mean me personally. I mean the issue of what to do has been bouncing around so long that it’s already, effectively, too late. The Kaspians – all the higher order, more intelligent species – are doomed, that much is clear. But there must be a way to rescue some of them at least, maybe enough to keep the species from becoming extinct. That mustn’t be allowed to happen, Vincent, do you understand me?’
Eddie was almost standing right over Vincent now, and Vincent shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling nervous and unsure. He’d never seen Eddie like this before, ever: the wild gleam replaced by something much more like anger, a righteous kind of anger.
‘You want me to help you, then? Help you save some of the Kaspians.’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what I want you to do. Most of the people on the Kasper Angel Station don’t know what’s happening yet, but in a few months’ time every human being alive there is going to want to know what’s going on, and they’ll soon find out – but too late for the Kaspians. There are already teams of scientists and scientific observers on their way out there to study the gamma radiation when it hits, and to watch the effects of it. Other people, too. I can’t go myself, so you need to. Talk to the people out there, Vincent. You’ll be working directly for me. Be my voice. Talk to whoever you need to, but find some way to save at least some of them.’
Vincent realized Eddie had been clutching a lighter for several seconds. Eddie seemed to suddenly remember where he was, and flicked the lighter until it burned with a steady blue flame, then he dropped it into the wastebasket. A few moments later, the acrid smell of burning plastic filled the flat as the smartsheet smouldered and dissolved.
Ursu
Ursu woke to the sound of distant screams. He stumbled upright, finding his robes and pulling them on. We are being invaded, he thought. The thought had been with him even before he had become fully conscious. He found the jug of water he kept on the floor in the corner, and drank from it to chase away the dryness in his throat, all too aware how badly his hands were shaking.
He then picked his way down the winding steps, scared of what he might find below. Then he was running down, the sound of his feet slapping against bare stone loud in his ears. But eventually he started to distinguish other noises, and the distant yelling of voices, panicked and angry.
Down into the great Hall, which was empty. The massive doors lay wide open, and he saw figures running about beyond. He started to move towards them, then heard someone call his name, just behind him. He turned to see Turthe emerging up the steps that led to his workshop. The Master beckoned to him and Ursu halted.
‘Ursu, not out there! Over here!’ Turthe disappeared again, retreating downwards. Ursu had absolutely no idea what his plan of action should be now. There had always been a vague notion of escaping with Shecumpeh, but the actual how of it was another matter. He realized to his shame that he had not actually made any concrete plan. But it was too late for that now. He could hear shouts and screams from outside, as he ran towards where Turthe had appeared, then down into his cellar workshop.
‘I was right, wasn’t I?’ said Turthe when Ursu stepped into the cramped workshop. The Master’s voice was strained and high-pitched. Ursu thought of saying nothing, still afraid of the consequences, but it was clearly too late for that. ‘Yes,’ he said, listening to his own voice cracking. ‘Yes.’
‘The god, Shecumpeh . . .’ Turthe’s tongue lolled inactive for a moment as he unconsciously matted down the fur on his cheeks, ‘you’re taking him, yes?’
‘Yes I am,’ admitted Ursu, feeling strangely stronger for having said it. But now he had said it, out loud, he knew it was true. He was removing the god. Escaping. Leaving Nubala behind.
‘Shecumpeh himself commanded it.’
‘I knew that, I knew that.’ Turthe nodded. ‘You weren’t the first, Ursu. No, not the first to be asked.’
Ursu was thunderstruck. ‘Who—?’ But then he saw how the heavy worktable Turthe used had been shoved to one side, and as he stepped forward he saw that the tiny door leading into the secret caves Turthe had shown him earlier now lay gaping open. In his fear and worry it did not occur to Ursu to wonder precisely how an oldster like Turthe could have pushed such a heavy table aside without any help.
‘Come with me,’ beckoned Turthe, ‘back into the caves. There’s a way out.’ And with that Turthe got on his hands and knees and scrabbled through the door. Ursu had no choice but to follow.
Strong hands grabbed him as he emerged through the tiny entrance, and Ursu yelped and struggled. But those same hands hit him hard on the side of his snout, and he felt his head go numb, a sick feeling spreading through his guts. He felt himself being carried briefly, until at last he was dropped to the ground. As he opened his eyes he realized from the faint luminescence and the sound of running water that he was back in the cave Turthe had shown him barely more than a day before. Others, however, were assembled here with them. Looking up from where he lay, Ursu recognized all of them.
‘Get up,’ said Uftheyan harshly, and Ursu pushed himself upright. There were four of them, all Masters, including Turthe and Uftheyan. They glared at him with hatred and contempt. ‘To think,’ began Uftheyan, ‘that we welcomed you into our holiest place, we fed you and educated you, so that you could then steal the very soul of our city away from us, you contemptible—’
‘He wasn’t to know.’ Turthe turned to Uftheyan and yelled at him. ‘False visions,’ he said, turning to Ursu, ‘brought about by the armies outside. What you experienced was not true.’
Ursu stared at him. ‘Shecumpeh spoke to me. He told me what would happen. Our city will be taken. I have to remove Shecumpeh to safety.’
‘Safety where?’ screamed one of the other Masters, a heavyset figure called Meleter. ‘There is no where, you idiot child, only Nubala.’
The fourth Master, Irubus, whose role was to instruct the House acolytes in history and doctrine, nodded vigorously. ‘Quite so,’ he said. ‘You should have known better, Ursu. Nubala has stood secure for countless generations, protected by Shecumpeh itself. What do you think will happen to us when it is removed, eh? Didn’t it occur to you that Xan might try and incur false visions in our priests and acolytes, so that they would give him exactly what he wanted, Shecumpeh itself?’
‘Do it now,’ added Meleter. ‘Do it now, while Shecumpeh still has faith in us, in our ability to serve him.’
Do what? Ursu wondered, a sudden chill in his bones. Hands gripped him again, hauling him upright, han
ds that were stronger than he would have suspected. Fear made him feel weak, as if his legs would give out from beneath him.
‘Perhaps,’ Turthe quavered, ‘perhaps we should consider what the boy said. We were all there when Shecumpeh spoke to him, weren’t we? And even if he were misled—’
‘Turthe, you dolt!’ raged Uftheyan. ‘It’s too late for that now. The enemy has broken through the walls.’
‘He’s right,’ moaned Meleter, his voice heavy with fear. ‘Kill him now – do it. Show Shecumpeh we still have faith in him.’
‘No, listen to me,’ someone spoke, the voice low and mumbled. Then Ursu realized it was his own. ‘He spoke to me, really he did. I’d have known if it were someone else. I—’
Another blow and Ursu sagged, strong hands still holding him at the shoulders, immobilizing him. Ursu stared into the eyes of Uftheyan, which were seething with hatred. Despite himself, Ursu felt ashamed, terribly ashamed, for disappointing him.
But the god had spoken to him. He had. Someone grabbed him by the fur on the back of his neck and pulled his head right back, sharply. Ursu felt too numb even to yell in pain.
‘Swim, when you have to,’ said a voice, barely above a whisper. There was a sudden commotion, as Ursu saw Turthe being pushed to the ground.
‘What were you whispering there, you old fool?’ yelled Uftheyan. ‘Maybe we should throw you in as well!’
‘Why, Turthe, have you changed your mind now?’ cried Irubus. ‘I thought we were all agreed. You seemed willing enough the last time!’
The last time? Ursu stood rigid, still held fast by the shoulders. The last time.
Ewenden?
‘You said there had been another,’ Ursu mumbled. ‘I wasn’t the first to hear Shecumpeh tell me to leave the city?’
His ears flattening, Turthe stood, staring at Ursu. As he looked away, shame filling his face, Ursu knew he was right, that he had not been the first. Shecumpeh had asked the girl to carry it out of the city. But when? It must have been not long after the besieging armies had first arrived outside the city gates. It could only have been her; no one else had disappeared so suddenly, so completely. Contempt and anger filled Ursu, and he snarled at them. For the merest moment, he felt the grip on his shoulders loosen the tiniest fraction.