The Evolutionary Void (7 page)

The problem he had was eliminating the military threat the aliens posed
without causing catastrophic loss of life. He couldn’t simply destroy the
drives of so many ships, because the empire didn’t have the ability to rescue
so many of its own kind from such a distance. Instead he manifested specific
aggressor functions inside each of the starships and ruined the weapons beyond
repair or recovery. Between them, they weren’t left with enough components to
make a single laser, let alone the more advanced devices.

Total elapsed time to nullify all two thousand eight hundred starships
was eleven seconds, enough for them to realize something was starting to go
wrong but denying them any response time. Not that they could have done
anything against him even if they had known.

Kazimir let them go. His energy signature flashed back to the area of
space where the big Prime ships were floating helplessly. This time he
manifested a communication function into one of the ships, its ability
identical to the inter-Prime system. Like all human minds, the one occupying
the Prime bodies utilized association as its main memory routine.

Kazimir injected: Origin.

Identity.

Purpose.

Each one triggered a deluge of thoughts. Kazimir identified that the
animating personality was derived from Chatfield’s mind, his human persona
stripped of most emotional traits. His sense of purpose was resolute, as was
his devotion to the Accelerators. The Prime ships were to escort the Ocisens
and protect them from the Commonwealth Navy’s attempts to intercept, but their
most important mission was to report on the appearance of the deterrence fleet,
its nature and capability. After that there was no requirement left.

A sensation of puzzlement flashed between the immotile and its motiles as
the burst of thoughts Kazimir had elicited faded from its main consciousness.
Realization followed. It sent a specific code to the scuttle bomb. Kazimir
wasn’t quite quick enough to prevent it. Now that he knew what to look for, he
quickly manifested a function into the remaining ships that disabled the
scuttle in all of them.

“Do you have sufficient evidence now?” he asked ANA:Governance.

“I do. The Accelerators have acted recklessly. In supporting the Ocisens
and manipulating Living Dream, they have violated the principles under which I
was established. I will convene a suspension conclave.”

“They will know the deterrence fleet has intercepted the Ocisen fleet
even though they remain unaware of my nature. They must assume the worst, that
I have uncovered their exploitation of the Primes.”

“That would be logical. However, there is little their agents can do.
Once suspension is enacted, their operations will be exposed to full scrutiny
and neutralized.”

Kazimir reviewed the starships as they drifted passively. “Nonetheless, I
still don’t see what the Accelerators hoped to achieve, outside crude political
manipulation. Ilanthe is smarter than that. I would feel more comfortable being
on hand during the hearing. I will return immediately.”

“What about the Ocisen fleet? I thought you were going to monitor them.”

“They are incapable of causing any harm. When the commander realizes
that, they will have no option but to return home. Our Capital-class ships can
assume observation duties.”

“The defeat to the commander’s pride is considerable. It may not want to
return to the empire.”

“That will be something for the Capital ships to determine. I am coming
back to Sol.”

“As you wish.”

Kazimir manifested a communication function and broadcast a simple
message to the ships. “Attention the Chatfield personalities, this is the
Commonwealth Navy deterrence fleet. We know what you are and what you intended.
Do not attempt any further suicide bids. Capital-class ships will rendezvous
with you shortly. You will be taken into navy custody.”

With that, Kazimir withdrew his manifested functions and headed back
toward the Sol system.

E
XOIMAGE MEDICAL ICONS
leaped out of the
darkness to surround Justine Burnelli’s consciousness. She’d seen the exact
same set of readouts once before.

“Oh, man,” she grunted in shock and delight. “It worked.” She tried to
laugh, but her body was resolutely refusing to cooperate, insisting it had just
spent three years in suspension rather than … Well, actually she wasn’t sure
how long it had taken to reset the Void back to this moment in time.

The medical chamber lid peeled back, and she looked around the
Silverbird
’s cabin again.
Really,
again
. She sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Status?” she
asked the smartcore. A new batch of exoimage icons and displays sprang up. They
confirmed that the
Silverbird
had been under way for
three years and was now decelerating hard. Something was approaching.

“Ho yeah,” she murmured in satisfaction as the starship’s sensors swept
across the visitor. It was the Skylord, vacuum wings fully extended.

As it drew close, she examined the weird ovoid core once more, still
unable to decide if the fantastic folds of crystalline fabric were actually
moving or if she was seeing surface refraction patterns. The
Silverbird
’s sensors couldn’t get an accurate lock on the
substance.

As before, she settled back down in the lounge’s longest couch and
reached for the Skylord with her longtalk.

“Hello,” she said.

“You are most welcome,” the Skylord replied.

So far, so the same. Let’s see–
“I have come
to this universe to achieve fulfillment.”

“All who come here strive for that moment.”

“Will you help me?”

“Your fulfillment can be achieved only by yourself.”

“I know this. But humans such as myself reach fulfillment by participating
in our own society. Please take me to Querencia, the solid world where my kind
live.”

“My kindred are not aware of any thoughts akin to your species anywhere
in the universe. None are left.”

“This I also know. However, I am simply the first of a new generation of
my species to reach this place. Soon millions of us will be here. We wish to
live and reach fulfillment on the same world humans matured on before. Do you
know where it is? There was a great city there, which was not of this place. Do
you remember guiding human souls from that world to the Heart?” Justine tensed
up on the couch. This was the critical question.

“I remember that world,” the Skylord said. “I guided many from that place
to the Heart.”

“Please take me there. Please let me reach fulfillment.”

“I will do so.”

Justine was acutely aware of the gravity in the cabin changing somehow.
The smartcore reported an alarming outbreak of glitches right across the
starship. She didn’t pay attention; she was feeling horribly dizzy. Her mouth
was watering as a prelude to being sick, and she couldn’t focus on the curving
bulkhead wall, it was moving so fast. She hurriedly jammed her eyelids shut,
which only made the effect worse, so she forced her eyes open again and
concentrated hard on the medical chamber directly ahead of her. Secondary
routines in her macrocellular clusters began to edit the erratic impulses her
inner ears were slamming into her brain, countering the appalling vertigo. The
sensation began to abate a little. She checked the sensor images. “Holy crap.”

The
Silverbird
was rolling as its trajectory
curved around; it was caught in the wake of the Skylord like a piece of
flotsam. The curving patterns contained within the Skylord’s crystalline sheets
were undulating wildly as its vacuum wings swirled like an iridescent mist
across the gentle glow of the Void’s nebulae. All she could think of was a bird
flapping frantically. Then the course alteration was over. The
Silverbird
’s sensors reported a noticeable Doppler shift
in the light from the stars. They were accelerating at hundreds of gees, just
as the Skylord had on their first encounter.

This first encounter
, she corrected herself.
Or should that be
… In the end she decided human grammar
hadn’t quite caught up with the Void’s abilities.

Whatever strange temporal adjustment the Skylord had made to facilitate
their acceleration ended soon afterward. Ahead of them, the few stars shining
amid the nebulae had acquired a blue tinge to their spectrum, and those behind
stretched down into the red. The
Silverbird
’s
smartcore determined that they were now traveling at about point nine three
lightspeed. On board, glitches were reducing to acceptable levels, and her
vertigo faded away.

She let out a huge sigh of relief, then grinned ruefully. “Thanks, Dad,”
she said out loud. Trust him to figure out what to do. Her good humor faded as
she acknowledged that others would be coming into the Void; that damned
Pilgrimage would also go a-hunting for Querencia.
So has
the Second Dreamer agreed to lead them? And how the hell are they ever going to
get past the Raiel in the Gulf?

Gore had told her to concentrate on getting to Makkathran, so she’d just
have to trust that he knew what he was doing, which didn’t exactly inspire her
with confidence. He’d have a plan of some kind, but it probably wouldn’t be one
she approved of.

No, forget probably; it just won’t be
.

Not that she had a lot of alternatives.

Once they were under way, the
Silverbird
’s
smartcore plotted their course vector. Justine examined the projection, which
extended a sharp green line past a purple and scarlet nebula shaped like a
slipper orchid. The nebula was eleven light-years distant, and wherever they
were heading for beyond that was invisible, blocked by nebula light and pyres
of black interstellar dust.

After breakfast and a bout of exercise in the ship’s gym, Justine sat
back on the couch and longtalked the Skylord.

“How long will it take for us to reach the solid world we’re traveling
to?”

“Until we reach it.”

She almost smiled; it really was like talking to a five-year-old savant.
“The world orbits its star at a constant rate. How many times will it have gone
around by the time we arrive?” Then all she had to worry about was if the
Skylord even had a concept of numbers; after all, why would a spaceborne
creature need to develop math?

“The world you seek will have gone around its star thirty-seven times by
the time we arrive there.”

Crap! And a Querencia year is a lot longer than an
Earth year. Don’t their months last for something like forty days?
“I
understand. Thank you.”

“Will others of your kind come into the universe soon?”

“The one your kindred spoke to, the one who asked you to let me in; she
will lead them here. Listen for her.”

“All of my kindred do.”

That sent a slight chill down Justine’s spine. “I would like to sleep for
the rest of the flight.”

“As you wish.”

“If anything happens, I will waken.”

“What will happen?”

“I don’t know. But if anything changes, I will be awake to talk to you
about it.”

“Change in this universe is finding fulfillment. If you are asleep, you
will not reach fulfillment.”

“I see. Thank you.”

She spent a further half day getting ready, checking various systems,
loading in a whole series of instructions about what constituted a reason for
the smartcore to bring her back out of suspension. In the end she acknowledged
she was just killing time. The last thing she did as she got undressed was shut
down the confluence nest, ensuring that there would be no more of her amplified
dreams leaking out to warp reality with such unexpected consequences. That
brought back the one thought she’d been trying to avoid. Her mind lingered on
the Kazimir she’d abandoned on the slopes of the ersatz Mount Herculaneum. All
that was left of him now was a pattern in the Void’s memory layer. It wasn’t
fair to have lived for such a short time only to be unmade.

I will make you real again
, Justine promised
her poignant recollection of him. She lay down in the medical cabinet and
activated the suspension function.

H
UNGER AND A NAGGING
pain woke Araminta. At first she was
woefully drowsy as she lay on the motel bed. Bright daylight was shining around
the window blinds, warming the still air. Her stiff muscles protested as she
tried to shuffle herself to a sitting position. Every part of her ached. Her
feet throbbed. When she pulled the duvet aside to look at them, she actually
winced at the sight.

“Oh, Ozzie.”

Well! It was no good just lying about feeling sorry for herself; the
first thing was to get her feet cleaned up a bit. She eased her legs over the
side of the bed and slowly stripped off her filthy clothes. Without doubt, they
were ruined; she’d have to get rid of them.

The room had a cybersphere node beside the bed so old that it was
probably the one installed as soon as the drycoral had finished growing into
shape. Araminta started tapping away on its small keyboard, using the new
account she’d opened at the Spanish Crepes office. Miledeep Water didn’t have a
touchdown mall, but Stoneline Street at its center had a plethora of small
stores that sold everything she needed. One by one she accessed their
semisentient management programs and placed her orders, adding the items to the
delivery service she’d hired.

She ran the bathwater at just below body temperature, then sat on the
side and gingerly eased her feet in. The water soaked away the worst of the
dirt and dried blood, leaving them looking slightly improved. She was letting
them dry when there was a knock on the door. Thankfully, the motel supplied
toweling robes. She’d assumed the delivery service would be a courier case
floating along on regrav, all nice and impersonal. Instead, once she’d hobbled
over to the door, a young teenage girl called Janice was waiting outside,
wearing a cap with the delivery company’s logo and carrying a couple of large
shoulder bags.

Araminta was thankful her hair was still all messed up and the threadbare
robe was a ridiculous white and red stripe. Even if the girl knew all about the
Second Dreamer, she’d never recognize her in this state.

“I think Ranto was pulling into the park out front,” Janice said as she
handed the bags over to Araminta.

“Ranto?”

“You ordered takeaway from Smoky James? He runs delivery for them.”

“Ah. Yes. Right.” Araminta couldn’t work out if Janice was angling for a
tip. It said a lot about Miledeep Water’s economy that they used people instead
of bots for a service like this. In any case, Araminta could remember how only
half a year ago she depended on the tips at Nik’s, so she produced the cash
coin, which was obviously the right thing to do as Janice smiled in gratitude.

Ranto appeared before the door was even shut, handing over the five
thermplastic boxes of food from Smoky James. That immediately kicked up a
dilemma. Araminta was desperate to use some of the medical kit she’d bought,
but the smell wafting out of the food boxes was too much for her stomach; she
could actually hear it churning. She sat back on the bed and kept her feet off
the floor as she started to open the boxes. There were pancakes in berry syrup
and cream, followed by an all-day breakfast of smoked bacon, local chulfy eggs
scrambled, hash browns, baked galow, and fried mushrooms; the drinks box had
iced orange juice and a liter flask of English breakfast tea, and she finished
with toasted muffins. By the time she’d finished eating, her feet didn’t seem
to be aching quite so badly as before. Nonetheless, she applied the antiseptic
cleaner, wincing at how much it stung, then sprayed both feet with artificial
skin, sealing in the abused flesh. When she finished, she just curled up on the
mattress where she was and went straight back to sleep.

It was dark when she woke, leaving her slightly disoriented. Something
somewhere wasn’t quite right, and her subconscious was worrying away at it. She
didn’t think it was another dream connection to the Skylord; at least she
couldn’t remember having one during the last sleep. But on the plus side, she
didn’t feel remotely hungry anymore.
Time to think about me
.

The bath had spar nozzles that didn’t work. Even so, she let it fill to
the brim and poured in the scented soaps she’d bought. While it was running,
she went back to the cybersphere node and laboriously typed in a request for
information on Oscar Monroe. The antiquated search software pulled a list of
references out of the unisphere; there were eight and a half million of them.
The search hadn’t gone into deep cache databases.

“Great Ozzie,” she muttered, acknowledging just how much she missed her
u-shadow, which would have sorted the information down to something useful in
half a second. Another minute typing in new parameters and she’d filtered the
list down to biographical details verified to the Commonwealth general academic
standard—always a good starting point. That took it down to one point two
million.

By then the bath was full. She got in and wallowed in the bubbles as the
dirt slowly soaked off. Reading up on Oscar would have to wait a while, but at
least she knew he had to be important. He hadn’t been lying about that. When
she got out, she felt a whole lot better.

Araminta tipped the remaining contents of the bags onto the bed and
started examining the clothes. Most of them had come from a camping store,
which had provided her with practical hiking boots that came halfway up her
shins. When she tried them on, they were impressively comfortable. The dark
brown jeans were tough and waterproof, which raised some interesting questions
given that she was on a desert continent. She shrugged into a simple black
singlet, then put a loose burgundy T-shirt on top of that. A navy-blue fleece
was similar to the one she’d brought with her, except this one was waterproof
and the semiorganic fibers were temperature-regulated. She needed that
function; even after sunset Miledeep Water’s climate was still baking from the
desert air gusting over the ridge. All the other accessories—the knapsack, the
water bottle (complete with manual filter pump), solar-store cooker,
multipurpose blade, micro tent, gloves, thermal-regulated body stocking,
hygiene pack, first-aid kit—meant she could now walk wherever and whenever she
wanted. The notion made her smile grimly at the collection. Buying the gear had
been instinctive. She knew Miledeep Water was only ever going to be a way
station, though Chobamba itself might turn out to be a possibility.

She ran a hand back through her still-drying hair, suddenly unsure once
more. Sitting worrying in a motel room wasn’t exactly choosing her own destiny.
She sealed the fleece and went out to see what Miledeep Water had to offer by
way of nightlife.

After half an hour walking along the nearly deserted streets she had her
answer: not much. A few bars were open, along with some restaurants as well as
several all-day autostores that were handy for people on a strict budget.
Despite its location and the charming buildings, Miledeep Water was too much
like Langham for her to be at ease. Small town with a matching attitude.

The emotions emerging from the gaiafield of a bar down by the waterfront
attracted her. The people in there were rejoicing over something. As she drew
close, she could hear some bad singing coming from the open door. The gaiafield
emissions were stronger and more defined as she walked up to sparkly
holographic light shining through the windows. Araminta allowed the images and
sensations to wash through her mind, experiencing Justine waking up back in the
Silverbird
. The essence of her conversation with the
Skylord reverberated through Araminta’s skull, enhanced by the rapture of those
in the bar.

Justine is on her way to Makkathran
.

Realization of exactly who was in the bar made the tentative smile fade
from Araminta’s face: Living Dream followers, celebrating the latest
development in their favor. Making very sure none of her bitter disappointment
leaked out into the gaiafield to alert them, Araminta turned around and slunk
away. That there were followers in Miledeep Water didn’t surprise her; they
were on every External world in the Greater Commonwealth, and even the Central
worlds weren’t immune. She wondered briefly what those in the bar would have
done if she’d walked in, held her prisoner or fallen at her feet?

Maybe Justine will manage to do something
.
Araminta couldn’t quite recall the last dream she’d had, the one with Gore and
Justine in some room.
I must see the rest of Inigo’s
dreams, find out what happened to Edeard, why he inspires everyone so. I have
to understand exactly what I’m up against
. Then she stopped dead in the
middle of the street as her subconscious finally triggered the memory that had
been bugging her: the time display on the unisphere node. Araminta hurried back
to the SideStar Motel, not caring if anyone noticed her half jogging along the
deserted pavements and ignoring the traffic solidos to race across
intersections.

As soon as she was in the room, she locked the door and switched the
unisphere node on. The central time display winking in the top corner of the
screen always ran on Earth’s GMT, with a secondary display showing local time.
Araminta immediately switched it to Viotia time and then Colwyn City. It took a
moment while she did the mental arithmetic, aided by her macrocellular
clusters, and then she ran the figures again. If she’d done it right, and the
secondary routines in the macrocellular clusters were practically infallible,
it was barely fifteen hours since she’d walked into Francola Wood. But that was
impossible. She’d spent a whole day and night just trudging over that first
wet, cold, miserable valley, then there had been the day by the oasis. The walk
across the desert outside Miledeep Water, followed by sleeping the rest of the
day away. That was when she worked it out—walking across the desert outside
Miledeep Water and sleeping in the hotel accounted for a good twelve of those
fifteen hours.

The Silfen paths took practically no time
at all. How could that be? I wasn’t even on the paths the whole time. Sweet
Ozzie, do they manipulate time on the planets as well? But then, who knows
exactly where the planets are, what universe or dimension? Come to that, were
they even real?

When she looked down at her feet encased in the cushioning artificial
skin, she knew she’d walked somewhere and spent hours doing it. What had
happened, or rather where and when she’d been along the Silfen paths, was of no
consequence. She knew then that the Silfen wouldn’t let her use their paths and
worlds as a refuge. It was instinctive knowledge, coming right from the heart
of the Silfen Motherholme.

I really do have to face this myself
.

“Oh, crap!” She picked up the bar of orange chocolate that had been part
of the delivery and took a big bite before flopping back on the bed. There
actually was no escape.
So where do I start?
Learning about Edeard was the obvious beginning, and to be honest, she was
rather looking forward to immersing herself in his life again. But she felt it
was more important to find out about Justine. She let her thoughts slow, mildly
satisfied that she no longer needed Likan’s mélange program to achieve the calm
alert state required for any serious interaction with the gaiafield—not that
the Skylord’s thoughts occupied that particular realm. It was to be found in
some parallel domain, its thoughts serene and content.

“Hello,” she said.

“You are always welcome.”

“Thank you. And thank you for receiving our emissary. Are you the one
accompanying her to Makkathran?”

“I am with my kindred.” The Skylord’s incredible senses revealed a vast
swath of space between nebulae, devoid of stars. It flew on and on through the
emptiness, followed by a flock of its own kind who called to one another across
the Gulf. They were all gladdened that minds were once again emerging into the
Void, giant somber thoughts enlivened by anticipation.

“Oh. Do you know where she is?”

“The one you seek is within our universe. This is known to us all. For
that we all give thanks. Soon there will be more. Soon we will guide your kind
to the Heart again.”

“Can you call to the one who is with her?”

“My kindred are departed across the universe. Most lie beyond my reach. I
will encounter them again in time, within the Heart.”

“So how do you know one of us has arrived?”

“The Heart feels it. We all know the Heart.”

“Damn. Okay, thank you.”

“When will you come? When will you be here with your kind?”

“I don’t know.”

Araminta withdrew her mind from the connection and permitted herself a
brief feeling of disappointment. It would have been nice to talk to Justine.
Instead, she had only herself to rely on, a state she was growing accustomed
to. Her mind reached out into the human gaiafield again, stealthily, slipping
into the local confluence nests like a silent thief. Her thoughts fluttered
around the sight, taste, and smell of Edeard, and up into her brain sprang the
wonderful lazy awakening on a soft mattress as dawn stoked the sky over
Makkathran. A kiss touched Edeard’s cheek, the phantom touch sending a
delightful tingle along Araminta’s spine. A nose nuzzled her ear. Then a hand
could be felt sliding down her/his stomach, and her smile widened at the
naughty sensation. Jessile giggled close by and thousands of years ago. “Now,
that’s what I call rising to greet the dawn,” she said.