Across the surrounding starfield the nebulas familiar from so many of Inigo’s dreams were visible. The spectacular blue and green smear of Odin’s Sea, crowned by its scarlet reefs; Buluku, the twisting river of violet stardust beset with impossible lightning storms up to half a lightyear long; and of course the glowing entwined folds of topaz and crimson that was Honious in all its dire glory.
Now she was actually here, Justine experienced something weirdly close to déjà vu. It was as if she had suddenly found out that a childhood fable was true, and the colourful monsters she’d read about were finally emerging from the pages of the book. It wasn’t scary, but profoundly exciting; this was true pioneering. Or maybe archaeology is closer to it.
Her longtalk reached out for the Skylord. ‘I thank you for bringing me to this world. My ship can fly and land by itself now.’
‘I can take you closer,’ it replied magnanimously.
‘I would feel happier if my ship landed by itself. I am here now. I am content, for which I thank you.’
‘As you wish,’ the Skylord said.
Justine braced herself. Not that it did any good. The Silverbird was once again gripped by strange acceleration forces as the Skylord exerted its temporal manipulation ability. The star ahead transformed back to a yellow radiance as they slowed drastically. Red-shifted stars behind grew in magnitude and intensity. Querencia’s clouds and icecaps darkened as its oceans fell to a deep sapphire. Iridescent colours swirled around the Silverbird’s fuselage as the Skylord’s vacuum wings swept past it. Then they were separating swiftly.
‘Watch for my kind, they will be here soon,’ Justine sent. Receiving a serene flicker of acknowledgement in return.
Justine concentrated on the planet ahead. The Skylord had left her a hundred and fifty thousand kilometres out, and approaching fast. She ordered the smartcore to produce a vector which would put her into a twenty-degree inclination orbit a thousand kilometres out. From memory, Makkathran had been on the edge of the temperate zone. That orbit should allow her to see it visually. Somehow she couldn’t imagine it had gone. Makkathran was a constant, whatever it was. Acting as a refuge for whatever race had the misfortune to stumble into the Void. It had been there for a long time before humans arrived, she was sure it would remain even today.
As soon as the Silverbird began its fifteen-gee deceleration she switched the confluence nest back on. It wasn’t a memory she loaded in, more a belief, hopefully verging on obsession – that everything on board the starship would work. Even if it’s no more than a pathetic wish, it might be enough to keep the systems functional long enough to give me a proper landing.
With that in mind she started thinking about practical items she might need after she arrived. The replicator was soon humming away, producing a wide range of clothes for every season. Food followed; fruit preserves and dried or cured meats, half-baked bread in sealed sheaths, basic packaged microbe-free meals that would take a long time to go mouldy or putrefy; juices and the odd bottle of wine. To cook it all she had the replicator fabricate a small barbecue grill (with bags of charcoal). After that she dragged up truly ancient memories of camping back at high-school, when she’d been equipped with (relatively) simple tools like a compass, and firelighters, pots, plates, cups, cutlery. Washing-up liquid. Soap. Shampoo! Several decent pairs of boots. Knives of various sizes, including the fattest Swiss-Army type she could pull from the smartcore’s memory, which would virtually build her another starship if she could just figure out how to work the gadgets it contained. Rope. An old-fashioned tent. It seemed an endless list, which kept her absorbed right up to the moment when the Silverbird curved round into its designated orbit. After that she sat in the chair watching high-resolution projections of the world as it rolled past below.
The smartcore had made a reasonable job of mapping the planet’s basic geography during the approach phase, capturing about two thirds of the continental outlines. Despite that, she couldn’t really correlate what she was seeing with any of Edeard’s landscapes. The shorelines, which should have given her the greatest clues, were unfamiliar from an orbital vantage point. So it was five orbits before she started to fly over mountains that could well be the Ulfsen range, which Edeard had first traversed with the Barkus caravan on his journey to Makkathran. With Salrana, she thought sadly. Their tragic, doomed romance had never meant much to her before, but now she was here where it had played out she felt a surprising emotional resonance stirring her. Stupid meat body, she cursed, and concentrated on the projected image.
No doubt about it, the Donsori Mountains were next. The Iguru Plain swept into view, a vast lush green expanse with those strange little volcanic cones. Then there it was straddling the coastline: Makkathran.
She stared at the big urban circle, marvelling at the familiar shapes of its districts as delineated by the dark curving canals. Sunlight glimmered off the crystal wall, revealing it as a thin line encircling the city; dipping down into the sparkling Lyot Sea at the port district with its distinctive fishtail profile.
Under her direction the smartcore ran a final check on all drive systems. With the exception of the ultradrive, they were all working at above eighty per cent efficiency. Glitches were minimal.
‘Take us down,’ Justine told the smartcore. The starship began its final deceleration phase. That just left her one thing to decide. A decision she’d admittedly been putting off since arriving in orbit. Do I take a weapon? She was reasonably confident she could ward off any animal with her third hand, but what if a whole pack of dogs or fastfoxes rushed at her? So much time had passed that the dogs would have lost any trace of domesticity. And it wasn’t just animals. She had no idea who was going to arrive in Makkathran over the next few weeks, or years, or decades – or however long she was going to have to spend here before Gore’s plan became apparent.
Files of schematics flowed across her exovision. She chose one, and shunted the blueprints into the replicator. Two minutes later out slid a semi-automatic pistol with guaranteed jam-free mechanism. Next came five replacement magazines and five boxes of bullets – which really should be enough.
Ingrav had killed the Silverbird’s orbital velocity, allowing it to drop vertically. The starship hit the upper atmosphere, whose thin molecules started a faint scream from the buffeting impact. A long wavering trail of lambent ions stretched out behind the craft as it fell deeper and deeper.
Amber exovision alerts began to appear, warning Justine the force fields were edging close to overload. She shared her desperate desire that their generators would hold with the confluence nest, willing them to succeed. The amber alerts blinked off.
Regrav took over at fifteen kilometres altitude, slowing the descent. She began to study the city as the visual images built up. Deeper sensor scans were hazed as they began to probe the surrounding rock, denying her a clear picture of whatever lay beneath Makkathran. Though she could just make out the faint threads of several travel tunnels radiating out through the ancient lava field which was the Iguru Plain.
So I still don’t know what it is, she thought in mild annoyance. But anything which could manipulate gravity, as it used to do to propel Edeard along the tunnels, had to be a high-technology intruder into this universe. The city’s thoughts had admitted as much to Edeard when it told him about the Void’s reset ability. The night Salrana betrayed him, she remembered, wishing the thwarted lovers didn’t bother her quite so much. Come on, girl, it was thousands of years ago. Their bodies are dust and their souls are partying in the Heart.
Again – not the most comforting of thoughts. If I die here I’ll either wither away wondering through space, or be absorbed by the Heart. Or Honious.
Cross with herself for showing off such weaknesses, she concentrated on the city that was expanding across the projections. A landing site was her priority now. There were so many places she wanted to see. And she would, but they were all in built-up areas. She could make out the larger buildings now, the domes of the Orchard Palac
e in Anemone, the odd twisting towers of Eyrie standing guard around the Lady’s church. Her eyes darted towards Sampalok, and sure enough there in the central square was the six-sided building that Edeard had created out of the ruins of Bise’s mansion.
‘Oh holy crap,’ she muttered. ‘It is real.’
Fright or determination, she didn’t know which, made her concentrate properly now. The thick band of meadowland between the crystal wall and the outer ring of canals made up of the High Moat, Low Moat, Tycho and Andromeda was a likely candidate, though it was terribly overgrown. She could see clumps of trees down there, which certainly hadn’t been growing in Edeard’s time. According to the radar sweep and mass scans what looked like grass from altitude was mostly bushes and vines.
Golden Park, then. The old flat fields within the pristine white pillars were as shaggy as the meadows outside, and the original avenues of huge martoz trees had multiplied and grown wild, but radar showed there were plenty of relatively level patches.
Silverbird continued its descent, twisting slightly to align itself over the westernmost part of the park, between the curves of Upper Grove Canal and Champ Canal.
Two warning icons appeared, telling her the regrav units were having to draw extra power to maintain a steady rate of descent. It was as if gravity was increasing, pulling the starship down.
And how do you wish gravity was less?
More warnings began to appear, reporting glitches in secondary systems. She felt a faint vibration starting to build up, and ordered her chair to grip her tightly. It responded sluggishly.
‘Oh crap, here we go,’ she groaned.
The starship was only a kilometre above the city as it started to pick up speed. Nothing fatal, she told herself. Not yet. The landing legs bulged out of the fuselage. So something wants me to land okay. Velocity was increasing more than she was comfortable with. She sent a series of instructions into the smartcore, composing her own procedures for a Void-style landing.
Five hundred metres and the Silverbird was ass down as it should be, with the nose tracing a slight arc in the sky as it wobbled. The exact landing spot she’d picked received a final radar sweep, confirming it was solid and stable.
Her thoughts slammed into the confluence nest, demanding normality. Power from the reserve D-sinks was channelled into the regrav units, pushing them up to their safety margins. She saw the towers of Eyrie come level with the starship, and beyond them, over in Tosella, the tip of the Blue Tower was now higher than her.
Silverbird’s last hundred metres were a perfect landing profile, slowing to relative zero velocity ten metres above the wild vegetation. Then a half-metre-a-second descent until the landing legs touched. Spongy layers of leaves and moss and grass compressed, and only then when the base of each leg registered and confirmed solid contact did the regrav units shut off.
As if in sympathy, power drop-outs bloomed all over the starship. Justine really didn’t care. This had been nothing like as traumatic or dramatic as her touchdown on the replica Mount Herculaneum.
‘Houston,’ she said solemnly to the silent cabin. ‘This is Golden Park base. The Silverbird has landed.’
10
Araminta had remained on the observation deck of the Lady’s Light right from the start of the Pilgrimage. The room was as big as the Malfit Hall back in the Orchard Palace, and twice as high. Its floor was empty apart from a chair and a bed which had been brought in at her request. Araminta used the chair as little as possible, preferring to stand and stare ahead through the vast transparent section of fuselage. There was nothing to see, there hadn’t been since hyperspace enfolded the massive ship. It was blank outside, with the occasional cascade of blue sparks slipping across the surrounding pseudofrabric their ultradrive was creating. Imperfections within the quantum-field interstice, Taranse had explained when she’d asked what they were. What caused such imperfections he didn’t say – probably didn’t know. She rather liked them, they provided the illusion that some material substance was outside, and the twinkling flaws registered their progress through it.
For five days she watched the nothingness flow past, gifting it to the billions of her followers back in the Greater Commonwealth. On the sixth day Araminta began to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her shoulders quaked. The sorrow she radiated out into the gaiafield was so profound that the majority of beholders began to weep in sympathy. They were aghast, flooding the gaiafield with concern. ‘What’s wrong?’ they asked in their bewildered billions, for nothing and nobody was in the observation deck with her. ‘We love you, Dreamer.’ ‘Can we help?’ ‘Let us help, please.’
Araminta gave them no response. She stood resolutely in front of the disintegrating flecks of light, mute and distraught. Her personal staff were dismissed with a curt gesture when they ventured out on to the sleek expanse of floor. Even the loyal Darraklan was sent away without a word.
Inevitably, as she knew he would, Ethan appeared, and began the lonely walk towards her. Those sharing her dismay felt the anguish recede as she straightened herself. She made no attempt to wipe the tears from her eyes. Then her followers were standing on soft grassy land which fell away to a shoreline encased by high dunes. Sunlight shimmered off the idle waves that spanned the ocean’s clear waters. A Silfen stood before her, majestic and ominous with his dark leather wings extended, tail poised high. ‘You can do this,’ he assured her.
‘I know.’
The pendant around her neck flared with the joyous azure light of affirmation. And there was Ethan standing in front of her on the observation deck, his eyes narrowed against the cold light radiating from the pendant on its slim chain which now rested outside her white robe.
‘Second Dreamer,’ he said formally.
‘Cleric Ethan.’
The absolute hatred directed by the followers of Living Dream at their ex-Conservator was staggering in its passion. He hesitated, then recovered with a sure smile which simply confirmed his dishonour before his audience.
‘Perhaps you would like to tell your people what dismays you so,’ he suggested smoothly.
‘Are you aware?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Dreamer.’
‘There is only one person in the universe who could have told you.’
‘Indeed. However the messenger is not important. What she told me is.’
‘In this case the message and the messenger are one, nor is the method by which the message was procured insignificant. She is the cause.’
‘Nonetheless she has named you false.’
‘Ilanthe lies. That is what she is now. The serpent among us all.’
‘Is it true? Are you many?’
‘I am.’
‘Then I must question your intent.’
‘Of course you must. Yet I will keep my word. I will lead this Pilgrimage into the Void as I promised.’
‘You seek to thwart us,’ he spat.
‘I seek our true destiny. I seek to avoid the folly and fate of the Last Dream for the devout. I seek the Void’s own fulfilment.’
‘By allowing those who would destroy it to enter. That cannot happen.’
‘I tell you now what I told Ilanthe and what I have also told Inigo. Our fate will be decided within the Void. It will be decided by the Void. Not by you, nor by anyone else. I have been chosen as the instrument to open a path into the Void, that is all. I am not a gatekeeper. All those who seek their fulfilment, whatever its nature, are free to enter the Void. Simply because their vision is different from yours and that of Living Dream does not entitle me to deny them passage. I do not judge, Cleric. Unlike you, I do not consider myself infallible.’
Ethan’s uncertainty couldn’t be more apparent if he’d allowed it to shine out through his gaiamotes. ‘You have spoken to Inigo?’
‘We are both Dreamers. We are together even now. Didn’t your dearest Ilanthe tell you that?’
‘Ilanthe is no friend of mine.’
‘And yet you defer to it, whatever it is, whatever i
t seeks. The Dreamer Inigo released the Last Dream as a warning. Do you really think that dreary destiny of bored supermen is one to which we should aspire for our children?’
‘I believe we have the right to choose our future. I wish to live my life on Querencia and achieve fulfilment and be guided to the Heart. You and Oscar and Aaron are trying to prevent that.’
Araminta gave him an icy smile. ‘Sometimes to do what’s right you have to do what’s wrong.’
Ethan glanced about the massive observation deck as if seeking allies. ‘If you deny us the Void it will go badly for you. That I promise. My life has been given to serving Living Dream. All I have done, all I have sacrificed, has led to the launch of this Pilgrimage. I will not tolerate betrayal.’
‘You will enter the Void, Cleric. You will yet walk upon Querencia. You have my word on it. Now why don’t you go and ask Ilanthe what future she desires for all of us? Or perhaps she doesn’t trust you enough to answer.’
He nodded impersonally. ‘As you say, the Void will ultimately triumph. I don’t worry about Ilanthe’s intent. What any of us do, our petty schemes and conspiracies, are an irrelevance in the face of the Void’s majesty.’
‘I’m glad we are as one in that view. Now don’t bother me again.’ She turned away from him and waited. Finally, she heard him walk away.
The gaiafield was awash with confusion and dismay. Her followers needed her to explain what was happening, what the Dreamer Inigo was doing.
‘You’ll see,’ she assured them. ‘In the Void there will be truth.’
*
It was a yellow star whose meagre family of planets consisted of a couple of airless solid worlds and a single gas giant that boasted over twenty moons. None of them ever had a chance to evolve life; wrong orbits and lack of volatile organic chemicals had seen to that. Now they were just circling endlessly waiting for the star to run through its main sequence and inflate into a red giant, devouring them all.