The Dreaming Void (3 page)

However, the mental icons he examined represented a great deal more than the standard physiological enrichments that Advancer DNA had placed at the disposal of a human body; if he was reading their summaries correctly, he was enriched with some extremely lethal biononic field function weaponry.

I know something else about me,
he thought.
I have an Advancer heritage.
It was hardly a revelation; eighty percent of Greater Commonwealth citizens had had similar modifications sequenced into their DNA thanks to the long-ago genetic visionaries on Far Away. But having biononics as well narrowed the scope fractionally, putting Aaron closer to his true origin.

Ethan raised his hands in an appeal for silence. The plaza fell quiet as the faithful held their breath. Even the babble from the media pack was stilled. A sensation of serenity coupled with steely resolution issued out of the new Cleric Conservator into the gaiafield. Ethan was a man who was sure of his purpose.

“I thank my fellow Councillors for this magnificent honor,” Ethan said. “As I begin my tenure, I will do what I believe our Dreamer wanted. He showed us the way—nobody can deny that. He showed us where life can be lived and changed until it is perfect, however you choose to define that as an individual. I believe he showed us this for a reason. This city he built. The devotion he engendered. It was for one purpose: to
live the Dream.
That is what we will now do.”

There was cheering out on the plaza.

“The Second Dream has begun! We have known it in our hearts. You have known it. I have known it. We have been shown inside the Void again. We have soared with the Skylord.”

Aaron scanned the Council again. He no longer needed to review and analyze their faces for later. Five of them already looked deeply uncomfortable. Around him the cheering was building to an inevitable climax, as was the speech.

“The Skylord awaits us. It will guide us to our destiny.
We will Pilgrimage!
”

Cheering turned to a naked, violent roar of adulation. Inside the gaiafield it was as though someone were setting off fireworks fueled by pleasure narcotics. The burst of euphoria surging through the artificial neural universe was awesome in its brightness.

Ethan waved victoriously to the faithful, then gave a last smile and went back inside Orchard Palace.

Aaron waited as the crowd wound down. So many cried with joy as they departed, he had to shake his head in dismay at their simplicity. Happiness here was universal, obligatory. The sun crept down below the horizon, revealing a city where every window glowed with warm tangerine light, just as they did in the true city. Songs drifted along the canals as the gondoliers gave voice to their delight in traditional fashion. Eventually even the reporters began to drift away, chattering among themselves; those with doubts were keeping their voices low. Out in the unisphere, news anchors and political commentators on hundreds of worlds were beginning their somber doomsday predictions.

None of it bothered Aaron. He was still standing in the plaza as the civic bots emerged into the starlight and began clearing away the rubbish the excitable crowd had left behind. He now knew what he had to do next; the certainty had struck him as soon as he had heard Ethan speak. Find Inigo. That was why he was here.

Aaron smiled contentedly around the dark plaza, but there was no sign of the woman. “Now who's bad news?” he asked, and walked back into the jubilant city.

Looking out from the balcony along the front of Orchard Palace, Ethan watched the last rays of the sun slide over the crowd like a translucent gold veneer. Their cries of near-religious approval echoed off the thick walls of the palace; he could feel the vibration in the stone balustrade in front of him. He had experienced no inner doubts during his long difficult progress, but the response of the faithful was profoundly comforting. He knew he was right to push for his own vision, to haul the whole movement out of its slothful complacency. That was evolution's message: Go forward or die. It was the reason for the Void's existence.

Ethan closed his mind to the gaiafield and strode off the balcony as the sun finally sank below the horizon. The others of the Council followed respectfully, their scarlet cloaks fluttering in agitation as they hurried to keep up.

His personal secretary, Chief Cleric Phelim, was waiting at the top of the broad ebony stairs that curved down to the cavernous Malfit Hall on the ground level. Phelim wore the gray-and-blue robes that indicated a rank just below that of a full Councillor, a status that Ethan was going to elevate in the next couple of days. His hood hung down his back, allowing the soft orange lighting to glimmer off the black skin of his shaved scalp. It gave him a formidable skeletal appearance that was unusual amid Living Dream members, who followed the fashion of long hair that was prevalent in Makkathran. When he fell in beside Ethan, he was almost a head taller. That height, along with a face that could remain unnervingly impassive, had been useful for unsettling a great many people; he could talk to anyone with his mind fully open to the gaiafield, yet his emotional tone was completely beyond reach—again, not something the politely passive community of Living Dream was accustomed to. To the Council hierarchy, Phelim and his mannerisms were an uncomfortable intruder. Privately, Ethan rather enjoyed the consternation his utterly loyal deputy generated.

The giant Malfit Hall was full of Clerics who began applauding as soon as Ethan reached the bottom of the stairs. He took the time to bow at them as he made his way across the sheer black floor, smiling thanks and occasionally nodding in recognition. The images on the arching ceiling mimicked the sky of Querencia; Malfit Hall was perpetually locked in dawn, producing a clear turquoise vault, with the ocher globe of the solid world Nikran circling gently around the edge, magnified to an extent where mountain ranges and a few scudding clouds were visible. Ethan's procession moved on into Liliala Hall, where the ceiling hosted a perpetual storm, its seething mantle of glowing clouds haloed in vivid purple lightning. Intermittent gaps allowed glimpses of the Mars Twins belonging to the Gicon's Bracelet formation, small featureless planets with a deep, dense red atmosphere that guarded whatever surface they might have from any inquiry. Senior Clerics were gathered beneath the flashing clouds. Ethan took longer there, muttering several words of thanks to those he knew, allowing his mind to radiate a gentle pride into the gaiafield.

At the arching door into the suite of rooms which the Mayor of Makkathran used to hold office, Ethan turned to the Councillors. “I thank you once more for your confidence in me. To those who were reluctant in their endorsement, I promise to double my efforts to gain your support and trust in the years ahead.”

If any of them were vexed with their dismissal, they shielded such thoughts from the openness of the gaiafield. He and Phelim alone passed into the private quarters. Inside was a series of grand interconnecting chambers. The heavy wooden doors were as intrusive here as they were in Makkathran; whatever species had designed and built the original city clearly did not have the psychology for enclosing themselves. Through the gaiafield, he could sense his staff moving about within the reception rooms around him. His predecessor's team was withdrawing, their frail emotions of disgruntlement leaking into the gaiafield. Handover was normally a leisurely good-spirited affair. Not this time. Ethan wanted his authority stamped on the Orchard Palace within hours. Before the conclave began, he had prepared an inner circle of loyalists to take charge of the main administrative posts of Living Dream. And as Ellezelin was a theocracy, he also was faced with endorsing a new cabinet for the planet's civil government.

His predecessor, Jalen, had furnished the Mayor's sanctum in paoviool blocks resembling chunks of stone that shaped itself as required, a state intuited from the gaiafield. Ethan settled into the seat that formed behind the long rectangular slab of desk. Dissatisfaction manifested itself as small emerald sparkles erupting like an optical rash on the paoviool surfaces around him.

“I want this modern rubbish out of here by tomorrow,” Ethan said.

“Of course,” Phelim said. “Do you want Inigo's furnishings restored?”

“No. I want this as the Waterwalker showed us.”

Phelim actually smiled. “Much better.”

Ethan glanced around the oval sanctum with its plain walls and high windows. Despite his familiarity with the chamber, he felt as if he'd never seen it before. “For Ozzie's sake, we did it!” he exclaimed, letting out a long breath of astonishment. “I'm sweating. Actually sweating. Can you believe that?” When he brought his hand up to his brow, he realized he was trembling. Despite all the years he had planned and worked and sacrificed for this moment, the reality of success had taken him completely by surprise. It had been a hundred fifty years since he had infused the gaiamotes in order to experience the gaiafield, and on his very first night of communion he had witnessed Inigo's First Dream. A hundred fifty years, and the reticent adolescent from the backwater External world of Oamaru had reached one of the most influential positions in the Greater Commonwealth still available to a simple Natural human.

“You were the one they all wanted,” Phelim said. He stood slightly to one side of the desk, ignoring the big cubes of paoviool where he could have sat.

“We did it together.”

“Let's not fool ourselves here. I would never be considered even for the Council.”

“Ordinarily, no.” Ethan looked around the sanctum again. The enormity was starting to sink in. He began to wonder what the Void would look like when he could see it with his own eyes. Once, decades earlier, he had met Inigo. He had not been disappointed exactly, but the Dreamer had not quite been what he had expected. Not that he was sure what the Dreamer should have been like—more forceful and dynamic, perhaps.

“You want to begin?” Phelim asked.

“I think that's best. The Ellezelin cabinet are all faithful Living Dream members, so they can remain as they are, with one exception. I want you as the Treasury Secretary.”

“Me?”

“We're going to build the starships for Pilgrimage. That isn't going to be cheap; we'll need the full financial resources of the whole Free Market Zone to fund construction. I need someone in the Treasury I can depend on.”

“I thought I was going to join the Council.”

“You are. I will elevate you tomorrow.”

“Two senior posts. That should be interesting when it comes to juggling schedules. And the empty seat on the Council I shall be filling?”

“I'm going to ask Corrie-Lyn to consider her position.”

Phelim's face betrayed a hint of censure. “She's hardly your greatest supporter on the Council, admittedly, but I think she'd actually welcome Pilgrimage. Perhaps one of our less progressive colleagues …?”

“It's to be Corrie-Lyn,” Ethan said firmly. “The remaining Councillors who oppose Pilgrimage are in a minority, and we can deal with them at our leisure. Nobody will be challenging my mandate. The faithful wouldn't tolerate it.”

“Corrie-Lyn it is, then. Let's just hope Inigo doesn't come back before we launch the starships. You know they were lovers?”

“It's the only reason she's a Councillor.” Ethan narrowed his eyes.

“Are we still looking for Inigo?”

“Our friends are,” Phelim told him. “We don't quite have those sorts of resources. There's been no sign of him that they've reported. Realistically, if your succession to Conservator doesn't bring him back within the first month or so, I'd say we are in the clear.”

“Badly phrased. That makes it sound like we've done something wrong.”

“But we don't know why Inigo was reluctant to Pilgrimage.”

“Inigo is only human; he has flaws like the rest of us. Call it a failure of nerve at the last moment if you want to be charitable. My own belief is that he'll be watching events from somewhere, cheering us on.”

“I hope so.” Phelim paused as he reviewed the information accumulating in his exoimages; his u-shadow was balancing local data with a comprehensive overview of the election. “Marius is here, requesting an audience.”

“That didn't take long, did it?”

“No. There are a lot of formalities required of you tonight. The Greater Commonwealth President will be calling to congratulate you, as will the leaders of the Free Market planets and dozens of our External world allies.”

“How is the unisphere coverage?”

“Early days.” Phelim checked the summaries his u-shadow was providing. “Pretty much what we were expecting. Some hysterical anti-Pilgrimage hotheads saying you're going to kill all of us. Most of the serious anchors are trying to be balanced and explain the difficulties involved. The majority seem to regard Pilgrimage as a politician's promise.”

“There are no difficulties in accomplishing Pilgrimage,” Ethan said with annoyance. “I have seen the Skylord's dream. It is a noble creature; it will lead us inside the Void. We just have to locate the Second Dreamer. Any developments on that today?”

“None. Thousands are coming forward claiming to be dreaming the Skylord. They don't help our search.”

“You must find him.”

“Ethan … it took our best dream masters months to assemble the existing fragments into the small dream we have. We believe in this case there is no firm link such as Inigo had with the Void. These fragments could be entering the gaiafield in a number of ways. Unaware carriers. Directly from the Void? Perhaps it's Ozzie's galactic field. Then there's a possible overspill from the Silfen Motherholme or some other postphysical sentient having fun at our expense. Even Inigo himself.”

“It's not Inigo. I know that. I know the feel of his dreams; we all do. This is something different. I was the one who was drawn to those first few fragments, remember. I realized what they were. There is a Second Dreamer.”