‘They light the whole place,’ she said. ‘It’s like a root network of big crystal ducts leading down from the mirrors on the pyramid. Same principle as our fibre optic cable, but big, much bigger, the ducts are a metre wide.’
The corridor angled down slightly, then opened out into broad stairs that curved round out of sight. They started their descent. The curve was actually a wide spiral. Ozzie lost track of how many times they went round, and how deep they were. It was a long way down. Sara took her face mask off, then unbuttoned the front of her coat. She was wearing woollen trousers and a thick blue sweater underneath. Ozzie realized he was getting warmer, and unzipped his own coat.
‘What heats this place?’
‘Hot springs,’ she told them. ‘It was built right above them. I wasn’t kidding about that bath.’
The stairs ended at an archway. Sara sneaked a look back at her two charges as they walked out onto the main floor of the Ice Citadel. Ozzie took a few steps in, and came to a halt. He’d entered an alien cathedral, a vaulting dome at least eighty yards high. Pillars curved up the wall like some arcane ribcage, supporting seven balcony rings. It had to be a religious monument, he knew. The alcove walls between the pillars were carved marble. Thousands of different creatures stared out at Ozzie, every third one was a Silfen. Somehow, the artist had given each one a majesty surpassing the divine quality suggested for the human prophets. They’d all been captured at the same moment of revelation and veneration, seeing the wonder dwelling beyond the physical universe. The bas-relief landscapes around them ranged from arboreal scenes to stark landscapes with exotic moons in the sky, cities of grandiose buildings and even technological surroundings. Right at the apex, a mandala of crystal strips shone brighter than the sunlight outside. ‘Jesus wept,’ he exclaimed. As proof that the Silfen did have a tangible culture it was a startling introduction.
In the centre of the floor was a large pool, fed by a raised fountain, whose waters steamed gently as it splashed and gurgled. There was no altar or rows of seating, which Ozzie was half expecting. Long tables made of bone and leather had been set up on granite paving that was worn and badly cracked. On the other side, a large rectangular stone hearth had been built, with neat brick-walled ovens on top. Flames were visible flickering through grids set in the base. Judging by the background smell in the room, and the soot clogging the oven brickwork, it was some kind of fat-based oil fuel. Several humans and aliens fussed round on tables next to the hearth, preparing a meal.
The chamber obviously served as the canteen and lounge for the Ice Citadel residents. Even in the daytime it was busy. The number of species astounded Ozzie. He could make out at least twelve different types. Creatures with three legs, four legs, six legs, some that squirmed or wriggled across the floor, one that hopped, and something that was either a young Raiel or a close cousin. Big and small, they had skins in many shades, scales, fur, spines, and oil-rainbow membranes; clothes on those that bothered were anything from simple togas to practical utility harnesses.
Like the statues, every creature was now focused on Ozzie and Orion. They were stared at, sniffed, echo-sounded, heat-scanned . . .
Orion edged behind Ozzie, who returned the attention levelly. ‘Where are they all from?’ Ozzie asked. ‘Do we know their star systems?’
‘It doesn’t matter where they come from,’ Sara said, dismissively. ‘Only that they are here now. Why do you want to classify them? That’s the first step towards segregation.’
‘Nobody’s classifying,’ Ozzie snapped back. ‘Man, this has got to be the most important gathering of cultures we know of. There are more species represented here than even the High Angel hosts. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘It means we have a broad fund of abilities to help us survive.’
‘I’ve got to find out where they come from, if they know anything more about the Silfen.’
‘Introductions later,’ Sara said. ‘Your rooms are over here.’ She led them round the edge of the chamber. There was a corridor leading off between every set of pillars on the ground level. The one they walked down opened into a cluster of three simple circular rooms. There was crude human-style furniture in one of them. A sleeping cot and a pair of sling chairs. The leg on one chair was broken, and the leather so old and cracked it looked like it would tear if anyone sat on it. A bathing pool took up half of the last room, filling the air with steam. Orion stuck his hand in the clear water, and smiled happily at how hot it was.
‘Take your time to freshen up,’ Sara said. ‘The evening meal is served in a couple of hours. It’s kind of tradition that the newest arrivals tell their stories and bring us all the news from whatever part of the galaxy they’ve come from.’
‘I can manage that,’ Ozzie said.
‘Good.’ Her expression was troubled. ‘You won’t try and rush off to find a path, will you? We lose a lot of people that way. At least take the time to learn the way things are around here.’
‘Sure. I’m not stupid. But we will be leaving as soon as we can.’
‘Good luck.’
*
There were a dozen grand dinners, balls, and galas on the night before departure. Only one counted, of course, the one thrown by Anshun’s First Speaker, which was attended by Vice President Elaine Doi, Nigel Sheldon with three current wives from his harem, Rafael Columbia, Senator Thompson Burnelli, Brewster Kumar, and a dozen other notables from the Commonwealth’s political ruling classes. And that, sadly, was the one which Captain Wilson Kime also had to attend. His car drove him through no less than three security checks, including a deep scan, on his way into the government’s Regency Palace, which served as the First Speaker’s official residence at the heart of Treloar. The sun was just setting as he and Anna drew up outside the massive stone portico. They were greeted by two human servants in long frock coats covered in gold brocade. The senior one bowed deeply. ‘Welcome, Captain. The First Speaker is receiving her guests in the Livingstone Room. Please go straight in.’
‘Thank you,’ Wilson replied. He took Anna’s hand, and they walked up the big steps. She was wearing a long formal ocean-blue gown with elaborate non-symmetrical loops of gold and pearl necklace which seemed to merge with her glittering OCtattoos. Her hair had been cut short ready for the voyage, but the stylist had still managed to weave in some temporary extensions flecked with platinum and phosphorescent Titian strands. He’d never seen her so elegant before. At work she was mostly in overalls or an office suit, while at the apartment she wore very little. The effect made her extremely desirable, enhanced by a thick perfume. He wanted to rip the dress off her and have passionate sex right there on the cold tiles of the palace floor. Her pose was only slightly spoilt by the way she had to grip the front of her dress with her free hand, holding the hem off the steps as they ascended.
‘Bloody classical architecture,’ she muttered under her breath.
As they reached the top, a shiny-black Ferrari Rion pulled up at the foot of the steps, emitting a hum of barely controlled power. A gull wing door lifted up, and Oscar climbed out.
‘Might have guessed,’ Wilson said. He was mildly envious of the car; it was a limited edition. Of course, given his age and status, he was above such things now. But he couldn’t help wondering what the Ferrari would be like to drive on manual. From a purely engineering point of view, it was a superb machine.
Oscar waved cheerily, and dashed up the steps. He kissed Anna on the cheek. ‘You look gorgeous tonight, my love.’
‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘You, too.’
Oscar carried off a tuxedo with great panache, a stylish searing-white jacket with a trendy cut and an old-fashioned scarlet carnation in his lapel. While Wilson always felt as though he’d been stuffed into his own tux, like a high school boy on a prom date.
‘Shall we go in, boys and girls?’ Oscar said.
They walked through the doors into the over-classical interior, dominated by gilt-framed portraits and the twisting bronze an
d jade shapes of 1st modernist sculpture. The First Speaker, Gilda Princess Marden, greeted Wilson with a politi-cian’s firm, trustworthy handshake, and air-kissed Anna. Wilson said something sympathetic about the planet’s defeated national football team. To which the First Speaker thanked him profusely, going into detail about the sporting and personal failings of the main striker.
‘Well done,’ Anna murmured as they walked away. ‘Only another five hours of small talk to go.’
The Livingstone Room’s large garden doors had been folded back, allowing the guests onto the wide balcony outside. The Palace courtyard’s formal garden had been lit by flaming torches and yellow and green starglobes hanging like fruit from the trees and larger bushes. Over a hundred guests dressed in smart colourful clothes suitable for the warm summer evening were milling round as the golden sunset drained out of the horizon. Local A-list socialites mingled with famous unisphere celebrities and wealthy grandees while official news and political reporters maintained a respectful distance. A band was playing on a small platform set up in front of the Henry Wu planet-sphere fountain.
All three of them grabbed drinks from a waiter. Wilson could see several other crew members, each at the centre of a knot of people. Like him, they were the unlucky ones; more junior members had a free choice where to spend their last night. For himself Wilson would have preferred a less ceremonial event.
‘I see our illustrious navigator is here,’ Anna said quietly at his shoulder.
Wilson and Oscar saw Dudley Bose standing beneath a ginger-red Japanese maple. He’d returned from his partial rejuvenation on Augusta having had about fifteen years taken off his age. Unfortunately, his frame hadn’t quite adjusted to his new cellular age. Skin hung in folds from his neck; his hair was a mottled fuzz of grey and black, and a sagging belly hung over his tuxedo waistband. He was telling some story to his attentive audience of Anshun dignitaries, with his wife in close attendance, laughing as if she’d never heard the anecdote before.
‘Remind me again why he’s coming with us,’ Oscar said.
‘Because he’s the greatest expert the Commonwealth has on the Dyson Pair,’ Anna told him demurely.
‘Ah. I knew there was a reason.’
Wilson did his best not to frown. Not for the first time he wished he hadn’t bowed to political expediency. Bose hadn’t even undergone half of the tests which the rest of the crew had struggled their way through, let alone taken part in any meaningful training. Having the astronomer on board was simply asking for trouble. But it had got the media off his back.
He saw Nigel Sheldon talking to the Vice President and other members of the ExoProtectorate Council, and made his way over to their small group. As he reached them he realized the young-looking woman standing next to Sheldon, who had his arm round her shoulder, was Tu Lee, their hyperspace officer. Her small delicate figure was clad in a little black dress; with her raven hair cut short she looked like a sexy imp.
‘Captain!’ Nigel grinned in welcome. ‘I know you’ve met Elaine.’
Wilson smiled politely at the Vice President. Farndale Engineering had chosen to donate to her rival’s campaign, and Elaine Doi knew that.
‘Any last-minute problems?’ Nigel asked.
‘No. It’s all going remarkably smoothly.’
‘We reached point two-five light-years per hour on the last test flight,’ Tu Lee said. ‘That’s our operational target, so we’re on the green for tomorrow.’
‘Listen to you,’ Nigel said. He grinned proudly at her.
‘Stop it.’ She gave him a sharp look.
‘Tu Lee is my great-great-great-granddaughter,’ Nigel said to Wilson. ‘Four natural-born generations; you don’t get a stronger family tie than that. Can you blame me for being proud of her?’
Wilson couldn’t remember that being on Tu Lee’s file.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Tu Lee said, her dark eyes gazing intently up at Wilson. ‘I never said anything, because I wanted to make the crew on merit.’
‘You succeeded,’ Wilson said. He suddenly wondered why none of his family had ever made it through the qualifying stages.
‘A Sheldon and a Kime finally flying together, eh,’ Nigel said happily. ‘We’ve got it covered from every angle.’
‘Looks that way.’ Wilson was having trouble keeping his smile intact.
‘I understand you’re taking a lot of weapons on your flight,’ Thompson Burnelli said.
‘The great debate,’ Wilson said, not quite mocking. ‘Do we shock culturally superior species with our primitive warlike behaviour, or do we go into the unknown with sensible protection that any smart alien will understand.’
‘Given what they’re facing, a degree of self-defence is appropriate,’ Nigel said.
‘Huh,’ Thompson snorted. ‘What do you believe, Captain? Is the barrier a defence against some psychopathic race armed with superweapons?’
‘We’ll find out when we get there,’ Wilson said mildly. ‘But I’m not taking a crew anywhere unless I stand a chance of bringing them back alive.’
‘Come on, Thompson, this is supposed to be a party,’ Nigel said. ‘Stop giving the man a hard time.’
‘Just making a point. I’m still not convinced this is the best way to deal with the Dyson Pair. There’s a strong body of opinion saying we should leave them well alone for a few centuries.’
‘Yes,’ Anna said. ‘The Guardians of Selfhood for one.’
Thompson flashed her an angry look.
‘Any news on them?’ Wilson asked Rafael Columbia.
‘We’ve made over two hundred arrests in connection with the raid. Mostly black-market arms merchants and other underworld military types. My Chief Investigator is confident they will provide us with enough information to finally track down the organizer.’ He didn’t sound impressed.
‘She seems to be doing a good job so far,’ Oscar said. ‘There hasn’t been a hint of trouble since the raid.’
‘Sure that doesn’t have anything to do with the level of CST security?’ Elaine Doi asked demurely.
Oscar raised his glass to her, ignoring the dark expression on Columbia’s face. ‘That’s probably about ninety-nine per cent of the reason, yeah,’ he conceded.
She looked around the four crew members. ‘So are you nervous?’
‘It would be stupid not to be,’ Wilson said. ‘The fear factor is a significant part of our racial survival mechanism. Evolution doesn’t like arrogance.’
‘A healthy attitude. For myself, I wish there was some way of communicating with you. To be cut off from information seems barbaric somehow.’
Wilson smiled a challenge at Nigel. ‘I guess our best hyperspace theorists aren’t quite up to that.’
Nigel raised a glass, but didn’t take the bait. ‘That’s the whole reason for me getting Wilson here to captain the mission. As they can’t refer every decision back here for review by your committees, I wanted someone who could make a decent judgement call. Unless you’d like to go yourself, Vice President.’
Elaine Doi glanced from Nigel to Wilson. ‘I’m satisfied that you’re in charge of the mission, Captain.’
‘If we had more than one ship, communications wouldn’t be such an issue,’ Oscar said.
‘And who’s going to pay for another ship?’ Thompson asked quickly. His gaze flicked to one of the big portals set up along the far side of the courtyard garden. They all showed various images of the Second Chance. The starship was docked to its assembly platform, though the outer shell of malmetal had peeled back to a thick toroid skirt around the gateway. Of all the construction gridwork, only a tripod of gantry arms remained, like an aluminium claw gripping the rear of the starship. Sunlight fell across the four-hundred-metre length of the central cylindrical section’s snow-white hull, casting small grey shadows from every hatch, nozzle, grid, antenna, and handrail which stood above the protective cloak of foam. The huge life-support ring was rotating slowly around it, almost devoid of windows, except for a few bl
ack rectangles along the front edge. Tiny coloured navigation lights winked at various points on the superstructure, otherwise there was no visible activity.
The sight of the massive vessel brought a flush of comfort to Wilson. Something that large, that solid, gave an over-whelming impression of dependability.
‘Any subsequent ships would be cheaper now we’ve finalized the design,’ Nigel said. ‘CST is certainly considering the formation of a small exploration fleet.’
‘What the hell for?’ Thompson said. ‘This expedition is bad enough, and we know something strange is out there. We don’t need to go looking for trouble any further out.’
‘That’s hardly the attitude that pushed us this far out into the galaxy, Senator. We’re not a poor society, thanks to that outward urge. We should continue to push back the barriers.’
‘Fine,’ Thompson said bluntly. ‘You want them pushed back, you pay for them. You certainly won’t have my support for further government funding. Look what happened with Far Away. We poured billions into that venture, and it still costs government hundreds of millions a year. What have we ever got back out of it?’
‘Knowledge,’ Wilson said, surprised to find himself defending Far Away.
‘Precious little of it,’ Thompson grunted.
‘Tell that to the Halgarths. They dominate force field manufacture thanks to the technology they acquired from the Marie Celeste.’
‘What if we don’t come back?’ Anna asked. The way the Council members all looked at her in a mildly scandalized silence made her want to giggle. ‘You have to admit, it’s a possibility.’
‘We won’t abandon you,’ Elaine Doi said smoothly. ‘If it is necessary to build another ship, then it will be done.’ She gave the North American senator a sharp frown as he gathered himself to speak.
‘The ExoProtectorate Council has drawn up contingency plans for every possible scenario,’ Nigel Sheldon said. ‘And quite a few implausible ones as well. As the Vice President says, every effort will be made should we face a worst-case outcome.’