The Dreaming Void

  Oscar stepped through the airlock pressure curtains into the dome’s main arena, and paid his 20 FA$ entrance fee from a credit coin which Paula had given him. There were three low buildings inside, lined up behind Aphrodite’s Seat. He went over to the first, which the dome’s net labelled ‘Crash Site’. A whole bunch of tourists were just exiting it, heading for the café next door, chatting excitedly. They never registered him, which he found amusing. It wasn’t as if his face was any different now.

  It was dark inside, with one wall open to the side of the dome above the cliffs. A narrow winding walkway was suspended three metres over the ground, with a pressure field below it, maintaining a vacuum over the actual regolith. There was also a stabilizer field generator running to preserve the wreckage of the hyperglider. The once-elegant fuselage was crunched up into the side of a rock outcrop, with the plyplastic wings bent and snapped. Oscar remembered how elegant those wings had been fully extended, and sighed.

  He walked slowly along the walkway until he was directly above the antique. His heart had slowed right down as he imagined his friend terrified and frantic as the craft skidded along the dusty plateau, slipping and twisting, completely out of control. The fate of an entire species dependent on the outcome, and the cliffs rushing towards him. Oscar frowned as he looked down. The hyperglider was actually upside down, which meant there had been an almighty flip at one point. He looked along the ground to the rim of Aphrodite’s Seat, where someone in an ancient pressure suit was sitting.

  It was a solido projection, Oscar realized as he came to the end of the walkway. Wilson Kime, his head visible in a not terribly authentic bubble helmet. Pressure suit rips repaired with some kind of epoxy, leaking blood into the regolith. The solido Wilson stared out over the Dessault Mountain Range to the east, where the snow-capped peaks diminished into the bright haze of the curving horizon. This was exactly what the real Wilson had seen, what so many people had died to give him; those which history knew, and still more unknown. Twelve hundred years ago this glorious panorama had provided the data to steer a giant storm into the Starflyer’s ship, slaying the beast and liberating the Commonwealth. Today, here on that same spot, he could sit in the Saviour View café next door and buy doughnuts named after himself.

  ‘Without you, we wouldn’t be here.’

  Oscar started. There was a man standing behind him on the walkway, wearing a very dark toga suit.

  Great secret agent I make; anyone can creep up on me.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Oscar said.

  The man smiled. He was very handsome, with a square jaw, dimpled chin, and a flattish nose. Brown eyes were surrounded by laughter lines. When he opened his wide mouth, startlingly white teeth smiled out. ‘I nearly got blown away by that burst of melancholy disappointment you let loose into the gaiafield,’ he said. ‘It’s understandable.’ He waved a hand round the darkened chamber. ‘This travesty is all that exists to celebrate what you and Wilson achieved. But I promise you, we know and appreciate what you did. It is taught to all of our children.’

  ‘We?’

  The man bowed his head formally. ‘The Knights Guardian. Welcome back to Far Away, Oscar Monroe. How can we help you?’

  His name was Tomansio, he said as they walked back to Oscar’s capsule. ‘In full, Tomansio McFoster Stewart. It was my father who provided you with our code eighty-six years ago.’

  ‘I barely saw him. The government had a tight little cordon around my room. They were anxious I should have my privacy. Yet he just walked right in. And out again, too.’

  ‘We thought you’d forgotten us,’ Tomansio said. ‘Or worse.’

  ‘I’m not what I used to be,’ Oscar said. ‘At least, that’s what I thought.’

  ‘And yet here you are. It’s an interesting time to come and seek us out again, for both the Greater Commonwealth and the galaxy at large. Not the kind of time a man chooses to indulge in nostalgia.’

  ‘No. This has nothing to do with nostalgia.’

  They sat themselves in the capsule. ‘Do you mind if I navigate?’ Tomansio asked. ‘You would find it difficult to reach our lands unaided.’

  ‘Of course,’ Oscar said. His curiosity rose as they slid out of the dome’s landing chamber. ‘Where are your lands?’

  ‘Where they’ve always been. From the north-east corner of the Dessault Mountains all the way to the Oak Sea.’ The capsule began to accelerate, streaking northward over the mountains as it gained altitude. For the first time, Oscar saw the High Desert around which the lofty peaks huddled protectively.

  ‘And I couldn’t find you? I think that peak is Mount St Omer, isn’t it? The Marie Celeste crashed close by.’

  ‘Knowing and reaching are two separate things.’

  ‘I didn’t know you all turned Buddhist and spoke in fortune cookies.’

  Tomansio tilted his head to one side with avian precision. His attractive smile poised. ‘Ah, I see. I’m not being deliberately enigmatic. Though perhaps I am guilty of overdramatizing. But you are very precious to us, Oscar. I’m hoping to impress you.’

  Just for a moment, Oscar felt as if he’d lived through every one of those eleven hundred years. He had to history mine to understand me. Jesus fuck. He’d been far too sheltered with his life partners. Small wonder he always felt as if the house put up a cosy barrier between his little family and the outside world.

  ‘We protect our lands with a T-sphere,’ Tomansio said.

  ‘Really? I thought only Earth had one.’

  ‘We don’t advertise. It’s actually quite an elegant defence on so many levels, although it does require a colossal amount of energy to maintain. If you walk or drive or fly towards us, as you approach our border you’re simply teleported to the other side. You can’t knock on a door which you can never face. You have to be invited in.’

  ‘Cool.’

  The lands they fell towards seemed particularly lush. Thick greenery split by meandering rivers, forest and mead-owland squabbling to dominate valleys and rolling hills. Away to the east, a glimpse of the Oak Sea. They re-entered the atmosphere. Strands of cloud rushed up past the capsule’s transparent hull, thickening fast. Then they were through, and a forest canopy unfolded below them, leaves of every colour, trees of immense size. Far Away had always celebrated its unique genetic diversity. Starting with a near-sterile landscape, the terraforming teams had brought the seeds of a hundred planets with them to create the ultimate contrasting florascape.

  ‘Here we go,’ Tomansio said as their altitude approached three miles.

  The view outside suddenly switched. Oscar jumped in his seat. They were now floating a hundred yards above the ground at the head of a long valley. Blue-green grass rippled away for miles on every side, lapping against woodlands that spilled out of the dips in the valley walls. There were houses all around them, built from wood and stone, blending nicely with the environment, like some medieval village back on Earth. Except this was on a much grander scale.

  ‘You live here?’ Oscar asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m envious.’

  ‘Appearances can be deceiving.’

  The capsule touched down outside one of the stone houses, a long building with age-blackened wood beams protruding from beneath a slate roof. A balcony ran along one side. Big windows were open, showing a glimpse of a very modern interior. The grass swept right up to the walls, emphasizing the impression of natural harmony.

  Oscar stepped out wearily. The gaiafield was resonating with a warm subtle joy, wrapping him in a daydream of a child being swept up in its mother’s arms; the comfort and security of being home.

  It was a welcome emanating from the people hurrying across the land to greet him. They came out of nearby houses, or simply teleported in, popping into existence to enlarge the crowd. Then the horses appeared, a whole cavalry squad riding up over a nearby ridge, dressed in some dark uniform which trailed gold and scarlet heraldic streamers behind their shoulders. The horses themselves were clad in a me
tal mesh, with hems of gold tassels brushing the tips of the grass. He stared at the giant, fearsome beasts, with their metal-clad horns and sharp tusks, memories stirring.

  ‘I’ve seen one of those before,’ he exclaimed, excitedly. ‘On our drive to the mountains. A Charlemagne. Somebody guided us.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tomansio said. ‘We still train to fight on them. But we’ve never actually ridden them into battle since the Planet’s Revenge. It’s all ceremonial now, part of our skill set. The riders are here to honour your arrival. As do the king eagles.’ He gestured upwards.

  Oscar just managed not to flinch; he did gasp, though. A flock of giant avian creatures swirled overhead. Resembling the petrosaurs of Earth’s dinosaur era, they had been created by the Barsoomians as part of their quest for genetic expansion. Each one had a rider, dressed in long flowing robes that fluttered behind them. They waved as they passed overhead, turning and twisting with amazing finesse. Oscar grinned unashamedly at their acrobatic antics. Surely those riders had to be strapped on?

  Tomansio cleared his throat discreetly. ‘Perhaps a few words,’ he whispered into Oscar’s ear.

  Oscar had been so entranced by the king eagles he hadn’t noticed just how many people were now gathered in front of him. He gazed across them, slightly unnerved by their appearance. It was as if some kind of athletics squad had turned out to see him. Without fail they were tall; the men handsome, the women beautiful; and all of them hugely fit. Even the smiling, eager children were healthy specimens. He couldn’t help but think of H. G. Wells’s particular vision of the future from The Time Machine. Here in their protected edenistic garden, the Knights Guardians were like Eloi, but with muscles, and attitude. Heaven help the Morlock who wandered into this valley.

  Oscar drew a breath, really trying not to think of the media briefings he had to give while he was in the Navy. ‘I haven’t been to Far Away for a very long time. Too long, actually. You have made it a thrilling world, a world respected across the Commonwealth. For that I thank you, as I do for this welcome.’

  The applause was heartfelt enough. Oscar bobbed his head, smiling round the earnest faces. He was hugely relieved when Tomansio ushered him into the house.

  The reception room was clad in what looked like translucent white fabric that emitted a mild glow. There were strange deep folds in the walls, which hinted at parallel compartments. Aspects of the T-sphere, Oscar guessed. The furniture was solid enough, as was the little shrine which rested on a broad ancient wood table at the far end. Oscar slowed to a halt as he stared at the black-shrouded holographic portrait with its single candle burning underneath. The Cat’s prim face returned her best enigmatic smile.

  ‘For every Yin, a Yang,’ Oscar murmured grimly. He should have known. The valley really had been too idyllic.

  Tomansio came up to stand beside him. ‘You knew her, didn’t you? You actually spoke to her as you travelled to Far Away.’

  ‘We spent a day together on the Carbon Goose flying across Half Way. I wouldn’t say I knew her well.’

  ‘How I envy you that day. Did she frighten you?’

  ‘I was weary of her. We all were. Perhaps you should be?’

  ‘I would not be frightened. I would be honoured.’

  ‘She is evil.’

  ‘Of course she is. But she is also noble. She showed us the way, she gave the Guardians of Selfhood purpose once more. She was the one who brought us together with the Barsoomians. After the Starflyer was destroyed, after you helped kill it, Oscar, there was nothing left for our ancestors. Bradley Johansson originally built us out of the ruin of enslavement. He forged us into warrior tribes to fight the greatest battle humans had ever known. The battle to save our entire species. And when it was over, he was dead, and we were lost, doomed to wither away as a dwindling band of old soldiers without a cause. An anachronistic embarrassment as Far Away was civilized by the Commonwealth.’

  ‘Soldiers always have to hang up their weapons in the end.’

  ‘You don’t understand. It was our ethos she rescued. She showed us that strength is a virtue, a blessing. It is our evolution and should not be denied the way the liberals of the Commonwealth do, treating it as if it were some ignominious part of us to be always denied. If we had not been strong, if Bradley had not remained steadfast, the Commonwealth would have died on that same day you did, Oscar. If the Barsoomians hadn’t maintained their clarity, today’s humans would be emaciated short-lived creatures.’ He smiled at the portrait. ‘One of us had strength, the other, purpose. She saw them both and combined them into a single bold principle, she gave us a vision we can remain forever true to. There is no shame in strength, Oscar.’

  ‘I know,’ Oscar said reluctantly. ‘That’s why I’m here.’ ‘I had hoped that. You said you needed help.’ ‘I do.’ He paused. ‘What if it goes against your ideology?’ Tomansio laughed. ‘We don’t have one, Oscar. That’s the point of the Knights Guardian movement. We follow one creed: strength. That is what we want to impart to humanity as it grows and diversifies. It is the most basic evolutionary tenet. Those sections of humanity who embrace it will survive, it’s as simple as that. We are nature as raw as it can get. The fact that we are perceived as nothing other than mercenaries is not our problem. When we are hired to perform a job we do it thoroughly.’ ‘I need subtlety for this. At least to begin with.’ ‘We can do subtle, Oscar. Covert operations are one of our specialties. We embrace all forms of human endeavour, apart from the blatantly wicked, or stupid. For instance, we won’t perform a heist for you. The Knights Guardians take their oath of honour very seriously. ’

  Oscar almost started to ask about the Cat and what she used to do. Decided against. ‘I have to find someone, and then extend them an offer of protection.’ ‘That sounds very worthy. Who is it?’ ‘The Second Dreamer.’

  For the first time since they’d met, Oscar witnessed Tomansio lose his reserve. ‘No shit?’ The Knight Guardian started to laugh. ‘Twelve hundred years without you, and now you bring us this. Oscar, you were almost worth the wait. The Second Dreamer himself!’ He suddenly sobered. ‘I won’t ask why. But thank you from the bottom of my simple heart for coming to us.’

  ‘The why is actually very simple. There are too many people who wish to influence him. If he does choose to emerge from the shadows, he should be free to make his own choice.’

  ‘To go to the Void or not, to possibly trigger the end of the Galaxy in pursuit of our race’s fate – or not. What a grail to guard, Oscar. What a challenge.’

  ‘I take it that’s a yes?’

  ‘My team will be ready to leave in less than an hour.’

  ‘Will you be leading them?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  *

  ‘I was so sure!’ Araminta exclaimed. ‘She was this mild scatty little thing. She did everything he told her to, and I do mean everything.’

  ‘Face it, darling, at the time you weren’t in any position to be the perfect observer,’ Cressida said archly.

  ‘But it was the way she did it. You don’t understand. She was eager. Obedient. Like the other ones. I think. Shit. Do you think he was chossing me about? Maybe she is profiled and he told her to always give that answer.’ Araminta made an effort to calm down. Alcohol was a good suppressant. She tipped the wine bottle over her glass. There was none left. ‘Damn!’

  Cressida signalled the smart-suited waiter. ‘Quite an offer, though.’

  ‘Yeah. What is it about men? Why are they all complete shits? I mean, what kind of mentality does that? Those women are slaves.’

  ‘I know.’

  The waiter brought another bottle over and flipped the seal. ‘The gentleman over there has asked if he can pay for it.’

  Araminta and Cressida looked across towards the giant floor-to-ceiling window, which gave them a stunning view out across the luminous glow of the night-time city. The bar was on the thirty-fifth floor of the Salamartin Hotel tower, and attracted a lot of tourist types who thought nothing
of paying the absurd bar prices. Today every room in the hotel was taken by Living Dream followers, which was why the lobby was besieged by protesters. Araminta had forced her way through the angry chanting mob to plead with the doorman to let her in. She’d been frightened; there was a strong threat of violence building up on the street. Cressida of course had the authorization code to land her capsule on the executive rooftop pad.

  The man smiling at them from a table in front of the window was dressed in natural fabric clothes styled as only a Makkathran resident would wear.

  ‘No,’ Araminta and Cressida chorused.

  The waiter smiled understanding, and started pouring.

  Araminta watched morosely as her glass was filled. ‘Do you think I should go to the police?’

  ‘No,’ Cressida said emphatically. ‘You do not go down that road, not ever. He sat you next to the Prime Minister at dinner for Ozzie’s sake. You know how powerful he is. Besides which, no police force on the planet would investigate him, and even if they did they’d never be able to prove anything. Those girls – if you were right, and I’m not saying you’re not – wouldn’t ever be found, let alone analysed to see if their brain was wired up illegally. Forget it.’

  ‘How about the Commonwealth Government? Don’t they have some kind of crime agency?’

  ‘The Intersolar Serious Crimes Directorate. So you take a trip to their local office, which is probably on Ellezelin, and you walk in and say you think some of his wives might be psychoneural profiled, because of how they behaved while you were all having sex together, an orgy during which incidentally your macrocellular clusters were running a sexual narcotic program.’

  ‘It wasn’t a narcotic,’ Araminta said automatically.

  ‘Point in your favour, then. That should do it.’