‘So I have to take a chance, huh?’
‘Yes. And spare Corrie-Lyn’s life.’
‘Hum. I guess the only reason your boss would get me and the dickhead messiah here together is if he or she or it thinks we can do something about the Void. And for that reason, and that alone, I’ll switch it off. I’m curious to see what you think I can do.’ He directed his u-shadow to deactivate the device. ‘This will take a while.’
‘How long?’
‘I have no idea. Maybe half an hour. It’s never been switched off before.’
‘I will wait.’
Ozzie watched him. The man wasn’t kidding. What followed was no vaguely awkward interval where they occasionally made eye contact and hurriedly looked away, nor was there any attempt to talk. He just stood there, his field scan sweeping round; otherwise he had no interest in anything. That wasn’t human. His thought routines such as they were resembled machine code in their simplicity. In one respect that was a relief, Starflyer conditioning was different.
After a while Ozzie felt mindspace withdrawing, collapsing in on itself. It was akin to closing down his gaiamotes. The minds glimmering all around him faded away, most of them expressing sorrow and alarm as they felt mindspace fading. The loss was more profound than he was expecting, even though he knew it was temporary. But he’d lived with and embraced mindspace for so long now it was a part of his existence.
‘It’s done,’ he said grimly, and pushed his hair back off his forehead. It had absorbed so much of the vapour thrown out by the water column it had begun to sag and tangle in unpleasant rat-tails.
A tic started on the man’s left cheek. Expression slowly emerged on his face, like colour filling a pencilled-in outline. He let out a long sigh, the kind a witness to something awful would make. ‘Okay then, that’s good.’
A thoroughly fascinated Ozzie gave him a very curious look. ‘What’s happening?’ He had a strong urge to switch mindspace back on and feel the man’s thoughts again. But it would take days for the device to re-establish the state.
‘My normal thought routines are back.’ The man gave Corrie-Lyn’s unconscious form a quizzical glance. ‘That ought to go down well in some parts.’
‘So what was firing away in your brain before?’
‘It’s a kind of minimal function mode, in case of neural injury.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘In my profession there’s a big chance my neural structure will suffer physical damage during a mission. This allows me to remain functional in adverse circumstances.’
‘Cool reboot. Uh, what adverse circumstances hit you here?’
‘The telepathy effect was affecting me in an unfortunate way.’
‘Right,’ Ozzie drawled. ‘So who the hell are you, dude?’
‘Aaron.’
‘Okay. Top of the list, huh.’
Aaron grinned. ‘Yes. And thank you for agreeing to meet with me. My minimal version doesn’t have a lot of tact.’
‘Man, that’s the biggest understatement I’ve heard in a century. But you said you’ve no idea why you’re here.’
‘Partially true. When Inigo wakes up I’ll know what I have to ask the pair of you to do. I’m expecting it’ll be to stop the Void devourment phase.’
‘Oh sure. I’ve got time before lunch. Shall I tell my super-warship crew to get ready to fly? Or are we going to sneak in through the back gate and steal the bad guy’s unguarded power supply?’
Aaron smiled like a particularly tolerant parent. ‘Is that the back gate on the Dark Fortress?’
‘Man, I don’t like you.’
‘I appreciate this isn’t easy.’
‘You have no idea.’
*
Some mornings after she’d woken, Araminta would walk out onto the balcony overlooking the vast expanse of Golden Park to enjoy the sunrise, watching the first rays touch the tips of the white pillars along Upper Grove Canal. Over a thousand people were usually there to greet her with waves and cheers and thoughts of thanks directed through the gaiafield. They camped there overnight, much to the annoyance of the city authorities. But Araminta had told the Clerics to grant them permission to stay, knowing that the more people were watching her, the less anyone could do anything about her. She still gifted everything she saw and heard and felt to the gaiafield, which had led to a storm of embarrassment for the first few days as she used the toilet – she soon learned to stop gifting anything but sight at those times, and was careful where she looked. And she really didn’t want to think about what it was going to be like when it was her time of the month. Mercifully, it was a kind of mutual embarrassment, and no one who came into contact with her was crass enough to mention it.
She was thankful for the control she could exert upon her own mind (sometimes resorting to the melange program for support). Without that discipline she would have been completely exposed to the impact of thoughts within the gaiafield. Those of her devout followers she held back from, content to simply know their existence through the outpouring of gratitude. From everyone else – the deluge of emotion from the billions upon billions of humans who didn’t admire her – she kept herself as remote as possible. Even with that detachment it was impossible not to be aware of their hatred and vilification. Hour after unceasing hour, she was subject to the superlative abuse and loathing from the majority of her entire species. The intensity was awesome in its extreme. They despised her as pure evil that had taken on human form. Which was justified, she acknowledged weakly. After all, she was going to trigger the event which was most likely going to kill every single one of them.
She gave the Golden Park crowd a swift wave of appreciation and went back inside. The pool in the bathroom was almost big enough to swim in; and of course no one from the Dreamer down to the Cleric Conservator had ever entertained the notion of installing a decent modern spore shower in an unobtrusive corner. If the residents of the state rooms wanted to get clean they jolly well had to do it the old-fashioned way. Araminta walked down into the body-temperature water and started slathering on the liquid soap. All that ever did was make her think of Edeard and the string of floozies he’d enjoyed during the dark time that’d befallen him in dreams Thirty to Thirty-three. She ordered the shower on and sluiced the bubbles off, mildly worried about how similar the whole episode was to starring in a porn show.
Sure enough, and despite her resolve, she could just feel the physical admiration of male Living Dream members seeping into the gaiafield as the water ran across her skin. And no little amount of appreciation from females, either. Worse still, a lot of her foes were registering their enjoyment of her flesh.
When this is over I’m going to have to walk down the Silfen paths to the other side of the galaxy and live like a hermit for evermore. Her gaze was drawn down to the pendant as it dangled between her glistening breasts – oh Ozziecrapit, look away! It wasn’t warm, and the light inside was dim, as if a wisp of phosphorescence had been caged within the crystal, but it still made its presence known. On the other side of it was the infinite comfort and wisdom of the Silfen Motherholm. That at least gave her some reassurance. She wasn’t entirely alone.
Three Mr Boveys smiled in gentle sympathy as they sat down to a late dinner at home.
She ordered the shower off and stepped out of the pool. Then all she had to do was rub herself down with a towel, which she did while looking at the ceiling. A small growl came out of her throat as she grew cross with herself. She hurriedly struggled into her vest top and briefs, then slithered her long white robe on top. The belt was one modified by the Palace security detail, and contained a force-field generator. They’d insisted and she wasn’t going to argue. So dressed and chaste at last, she made her way through the long ornate halls to the state dining room.
Underneath the glaring ceiling, the huge polished wooden table built for a hundred and fifty guests was set for one. At least Edeard had Hilitte for company, she thought. And how would he have coped with body functions and sex and life in
general if he’d ever known of his audience? She wasn’t sure if a table this size set for two was more or less ridiculous than it was with just her lonely cutlery. But then Edeard was often joined by Dinlay for breakfast. All she had were five super-efficient staff to serve her anything she wanted from the bolnut veneer sideboard that was loaded up with an authentic Edeard-style breakfast from the Thirty-third dream. She remembered the later dreams when he’d been properly elected as Mayor. He and Kristabel had never had breakfasts like that; but then he’d never taken up residence in the state rooms then either. Perhaps the Palace staff were being ironic. If so, the subtlety was lost on her.
Just to be difficult she ordered a hot chocolate to have with her croissant. One of the girls in a maid’s uniform scurried off to the kitchens. As she tore the pastry open, Araminta reflected on how it would be nice to have someone here for company. She was a little sad that Cressida hadn’t been in touch, but she could certainly sympathize with her cousin wanting nothing to do with her.
Her chocolate arrived in a huge cup, the top covered in whipped cream dotted with strawberry marshmallows. Darraklan walked in with the maid. He’d taken to wearing the long burgundy waistcoat, white shirt and yellow drosilk cravat of the senior Orchard Palace personnel. He’d slipped very easily into the job of chief of staff, helping her to settle in. ‘Good morning, Dreamer; Cleric Rincenso requests a moment of your time.’
Araminta noticed Darraklan didn’t have any gaiafield emission relating to the Cleric whatsoever. But then in his own repellent arse-kissing way Rincenso was also striving hard for favoured status. She could use that. He’d want to score points by exposing any of his colleagues who doubted or schemed against her.
‘Show him in,’ she said.
The Cleric came into the dining room as the corona of Querencia’s sun erupted with flares all across the ceiling. The bright rippling light shining off his robes and highlighting his eager smile had an almost aquatic property. He bowed politely. ‘Dreamer.’
Araminta gazed at him as she sipped her chocolate. It was delicious. Thank Ozzie, being a Galaxy-killer should have some perks, surely. ‘Did you find them for me?’
‘Yes, Dreamer. The women were at the mansion on Viotia. He was actually already here, our security services have been holding him.’
‘Why?’
Rincenso’s smile became stretched. ‘It was thought he might be shielding you from our Welcome Team.’
‘Ah. He wasn’t. I eluded them by myself.’ A pause for emphasis. ‘It wasn’t that difficult.’
‘Not for you, Dreamer.’
He was so smooth he almost spoilt the taste of the chocolate for her. ‘Is he here now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bring him in.’
Rincenso hesitated. ‘Dreamer, he was interrogated very thoroughly.’
‘Thoroughly? You mean . . .’ She didn’t like to dwell on that too much. I make a truly rotten despot.
‘He was given a memory read, yes.’
‘Honious! Bring him in.’
The man led through the dining-room doors needed the support of a burly security guard in a constable’s uniform. The man had the body of Liken, but the spirit was definitely withered. Any lingering anger she felt towards him was immediately banished. She got up and pulled out the chair next to her. The security guard helped him into it. There was no evidence of any physical damage, but his limbs were shaking badly, and he hunched up as if he was cowering from some omnipresent tormentor.
‘I’m sorry,’ Araminta said. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘You,’ he said with a bitter snarl. ‘There was always something about you.’
‘You were quite the personality yourself.’
‘That’s not what you told me when we parted.’ He glared round the big room. ‘That’s on record now. You know I’m telling the truth.’
‘They will give all the copies back to you. I wish it to be so,’ she said with simple authority. Rincenso nodded discreetly. ‘You can destroy them if you’d like.’
‘Ha. And what use will that be when the boundary comes reaching out of the stars to obliterate all of us?’
‘A question I’m sure you asked yourself when you facilitated Viotia’s compliance with Conservator Ethan’s scheme. That whole monstrous invasion was dedicated to one purpose, to find me. What did you think the Second Dreamer was going to do once I ascended to the Orchard Palace?’
He forced his head to shake despite the jerkiness of his muscles.
‘Like all non-believers you considered us to be foolish and deluded,’ she continued. ‘You put your own greed before anything.’
‘I do not let greed drive me. I have strategy, I have logic and planning.’
‘Likan . . . I’m not interested. Whatever there was between us is long gone. You’re here today to correct an injustice.’
‘I fuck your apology all the way to hell. I hope the warrior Raiel blow your Pilgrimage fleet to shit. The rest of us will have the greatest party history has ever known to celebrate your death.’
‘I’m not apologizing for your interrogation, you brought that upon yourself.’
‘Yeah? Well I’m going to plead with the Raiel to turn you over to the Prime. And we all know what they do to humans, don’t we?’
She could feel billions urging him on, hoping his desire succeeded. ‘I’m prepared to let you go free,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Free to go back to Viotia, perhaps? Our wormhole will be closing today or tomorrow now all my followers have returned home. Free for the Viotia authorities to question you about your part in the government’s corrupt submission to Cleric Phelim and the invasion – oh, Phelim’s coming back to Ellezelin and joining the Pilgrimage fleet. Who will that leave to face trial do you think? And I will look favourably on any request to turn over your read memories to them for examination. What evidence of treason will that turn up?’
His whole body juddered. ‘You said . . .’
‘I said I’d like to release you. But there is an injustice to right first, one that only you can do.’
‘Bitch!’
‘Phelim took your harem into custody. They’re already here. I’ve got the best genetic team on Ellezelin ready to treat them. The problem is, we didn’t read your memories from that long ago.’
Likan glared at her fearfully.
‘Which three, Likan? Once I know, you’ll be released, you have my word as the Dreamer on that. A starship will take you wherever you wish to go. We can even reprofile you first if you’d like.’
‘What’s the point?’ he wailed, close to tears.
‘The point is success. Do you think that ultimately I will succeed? Or will you and your way of life? I know which choice Nigel Sheldon would make. Do you?’
His head dropped. When he brought it up again the shakes and tics were overridden by a ferocious snarl. The old Likan was glowering out at her. ‘Oh yes, madam Dreamer. I’ll take your deal. I will comply. But remember, it will leave me free to hunt you down when you fail, because a miserable fuck-up like you couldn’t pull off something this grand in a million years, not a chance.’
‘We’ll see,’ she growled back.
‘Marakata, Krisana, and Tammary,’ Likan said.
‘Thank you.’
‘They’ll kill you, your new friends, even if I don’t get there first. Once you’ve given them what they want, they’ll kill you. This is too big for you. You were small-time when I picked you up and screwed you, and you’re still small-time now.’
‘Win-win for you, then,’ she said coolly. At the back of her mind the Skylord was showing an interest in why she was becoming so agitated. ‘Get rid of him,’ she told the security guard.
Likan was hauled roughly to his feet. There was a starship waiting for him at Greater Makkathran’s spaceport. She’d organized it all last night, using her u-shadow to send messages to Phelim and Rincenso and Ethan in private, editing it all out of what she released into the gaiafield. Phelim had
few troops left on Viotia, but he was desperate to redeem himself so he expended every effort. She knew poor little Clemance and the others would have been terrified as the remnants of the Welcome Team snatched them. Bundled into a capsule when the rest of the planet was rejoicing the lifting of tyranny, not knowing where they were being taken, nor why. Then being forced through the wormhole to Ellezelin itself. If the Dreamer Araminta was now regarded as the devil, then this planet was surely her realm.
But in a couple of hours they’d be reunited with Likan – those who wanted to be. The starship would fly them to an Inner World of his choice. She’d supplied untraceable funds, she’d supplied new identities. There was nothing more she could do.
The three he’d violated would spend a couple of months in a womb-tank here in Greater Makkathran having their psycho-neural profiling reversed. When they came out they could make their own choices again. That’s if there’s a galaxy left to come back out into. It didn’t matter, she’d done the right thing.
She looked over at Darraklan. ‘Is Ethan ready?’
‘Yes, Dreamer.’
‘Right then.’ She got to her feet, starting to resent Inigo’s stupid proscription that no capsules should be allowed to fly above Makkathran2. It meant such long walks or gondola rides (which she actually quite liked) or riding on horseback – and no way was she going to do that; her one time on a pony when she was seven hadn’t ended well.
A squad of bodyguards in constable uniforms fell in around her as she left the back of the Orchard Palace. They went down the sweeping perron and into Rah’s garden with its sweet roses and immaculately shaped flameyews. Clerks peered out of their offices as she carried on through Parliament Building on the other side. Then she was out in the open and walking over the Brotherhood Canal bridge into Ogden. That at least was a short straight path to City Gate. People were running frantically across the meadowland to greet her. She didn’t even need Likan’s old melange program to help her slip into her mildly aloof public persona. Greeting a privileged few overawed followers with a handshake, a murmured word of thanks for their support. Smiling graciously at the rest while allowing her squad to keep her moving past them.