The Evolutionary Void (40 page)

The front rank of the mob was hesitating, their first angry glances at
the intruder fading to bewilderment. Even their hatred and rage couldn’t stand
against the blaze of serenity and comfort she poured into the gaiafield.

Danal raised his head, a look of incredulity rising over his pain.
“Dreamer!” he gasped in wonder.

“Hello, Danal.” Araminta smiled. She pushed some of the Skylord’s
contentment into the greeting, feeling it wash over the poor abused man,
feeling his relief. Mareble was watching her worshipfully as she tried to
staunch the flow of blood from her broken nose, and right across the
Commonwealth, Living Dream followers sent their welcome and thanks that she had
finally come out of hiding to take up her destiny. The wave of goodwill was
awesome in its extent, combining the emotion of billions, sending it sweeping
across hundreds of worlds.

Then one of the mob finally managed to shake off the daze of sensation
Araminta and the Skylord were radiating out into the gaiafield. It was the one
who’d punched Mareble. “You!” he spit. “This is all your fault.” A metal bar
was raised. Araminta stared at him, feeling
something
flow from the Skylord into her mind, elevating her thoughts still higher. And
she recalled Ranalee’s iniquitous ability. “No,” she told him quietly, and
changed his mind for him, draining away the fear and hatred.

His mouth parted in a silent gasp, and the metal bar clattered to the
ground just as a squadron of capsules roared in overhead. Araminta grinned up
at them as they descended, sharing the sight with everyone everywhere. She held
a hand out and helped Mareble to her feet as armor-clad figures shoved their
way through the sullen silent mob.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said mildly as they came right up to her,
guns drawn to cover the throng. “Please assist Danal.”

The officer in front hesitated. She could sense the uncertainty in his
mind, the desperate wish to be anywhere else. “You’re to come with me,” he
announced.

I AM THE DREAMER, Araminta proclaimed into the gaiafield, using the
Skylord’s strength to bolster the claim. The officer swayed back from the force
of the thought, almost falling as his knees weakened. Behind him, people were
flinching, cowering at the power of her thoughts. “Did the Waterwalker travel
by capsule?” she continued mildly. “I think not. I will walk to the wormhole.
Those of you who wish to follow the dream may accompany me.” She gave the mob a
calculated look. No one would meet her gaze now. “Those who would hurt my
followers will be dealt with.” She glanced at the officer again. “Your name?”

“Darraklan. Captain Darraklan.”

“Very well, Captain Darraklan, your men will perform escort duty. There
will be peace in this city. That is my wish.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Darraklan stammered.

Araminta raised an eyebrow. The hint of censure peeked out from her mind.

Darraklan bowed. “Yes, Dreamer,” he corrected himself.

Araminta gave Mareble a gracious smile. “Come.” The crowd parted, and she
started walking down the slope toward the river and the docks. Bewildered
Ellezelin troopers quickly helped Danal to his feet.

By the time she reached the bottom of Daryad Avenue, she’d picked up
quite a retinue. Happy Living Dream followers had rushed out of every
intersection to greet her, disbelief and joy surging out of their minds.
Captain Darraklan’s troopers maintained a careful escort, not pressing in yet
forming a secure perimeter. Capsules drifted high overhead, keeping pace.
Araminta ignored them.

There had been many protests outside the docks themselves. Several
hundred hardy city residents had set up camp in front of the main entrance,
only to be largely ignored by the capsules that flitted in and out over their
heads. Now they formed a curious crowd, watching as Araminta led her procession
toward them. Anxiety and uncertainty began to rattle along the front rank. It
was one thing to taunt the unassailable, indifferent paramilitaries on the
other side of the fence for the injustice they’d brought to Viotia and quite
another to face down a living messiah with mysterious telepathic powers.
Araminta was still a hundred meters short of them when they began to part,
leaving a clear passage to the dock entrance. Tall gates were hurriedly peeled
open to reveal another batch of paramilitaries. These were headed by Cleric
Phelim himself, who didn’t offer anything by way of complicity or acceptance.

Araminta knew this was the first real test of her claim to be the
Dreamer. Phelim wouldn’t crumple like Darraklan, though she was certain that
ultimately he wouldn’t be able to withstand Ranalee’s dominance technique. She
sincerely hoped the Skylord would lend its assistance again if she asked, if
she showed an obstacle to bringing the faithful to the Void as she had promised
she would. In fact, it really shouldn’t need the intervention of a Skylord. To
the whole of Living Dream she had assumed her rightful position as their
leader, their savior. Clerics had become nothing more than administrators and
bureaucrats, simple functionaries to facilitate her wishes. Judging from the
expression on Phelim’s face and the few tightly controlled thoughts he did
permit to be shared through the gaiafield, he was beginning to realize that,
too.

I just have to keep going
, she told herself in
that little core of identity she didn’t share across the gaiafield,
be an unstoppable force just like I promised Bradley. The true
followers won’t stand for anyone
interfering with
me, not now that I can deliver the Pilgrimage. That’s what Living Dream stands
for; it is everything to them
.

A phony respectful smile spread across Cleric Phelim’s face. “Second
Dreamer,” he said, with a slight emphasis on “second.” “We are so glad you have
chosen to come forth at last. Welcome.”

Araminta didn’t even stop walking. She headed straight at the troopers
lined up behind Phelim. They quickly shuffled aside. “Part of the reason I
remained concealed was the suffering you unleashed on this world,” she said as
she led her supporters through the troopers. Mareble, who had stayed close by
the whole way down Daryad Avenue, glared at Phelim. It was a common sensation
directed at the man. Up ahead was the wormhole; Araminta could see the
violet-blue Cherenkov radiation leaking out from the edge. A different sunlight
shone through the center.

Phelim’s expression hardened as he struggled to restrain himself. “I
assure you we did everything that we could to—”

He was moving with her now, ambling in an awkward sideways gait. She’d
won. “When I sit in the Orchard Palace, I will order a full and open inquiry
into your part in this aggression,” she said dismissively.

“Wha—” Phelim managed to blurt.

“Violence was something the Waterwalker strove to eradicate. He devoted
his lives to it. The cause almost broke him, but he succeeded. That is his true
inspiration to us. And this monstrous invasion is the antithesis of everything
Living Dream stands for. To believe you will go unpunished for such an atrocity
is arrogant beyond belief.”

Cheering broke out all across the docks as Phelim abruptly stood still,
watching with an open jaw as Araminta carried on to the wormhole. A lot of the
enthusiastic jeering voices were rising from the protesters just outside the
entrance.

Araminta smiled proudly, savoring the victory. The wormhole was directly
ahead of her now, guarded by tall metal pillars studded with weapons and
sensors. The Ellezelin forces parted before her. Helmets were discarded,
showing grinning faces. The true believers were delighted she was here, was
going to lead them onward just as the movement had always promised. She was
cheered and applauded.

“Thank you,” she told them. “Thank you so much.” It was hard not to laugh
outright. She’d accessed politicians working the crowds enough times, always
hating the smug cynical bastards putting on a human persona whenever elections
were due. Now she understood how they did it; puppeting the crowds was apparently
an inbuilt ability.

Just as she reached the wormhole, she slowed and gripped Mareble’s hands.
The woman looked at her with an alarming degree of adoration, eyes bright above
the dried blood staining her face and dress. “You can go home now,” Araminta
told the overwhelmed woman. “I will lead us on Pilgrimage shortly, once the
ships are ready.”

Mareble’s lower lip trembled as she began to cry.

“It’s all right,” Araminta assured her. “Everything is all right now.”
That was a lie on the grandest scale possible. She was rather pleased with
herself for carrying it off with such panache.

Araminta raised a hand to her newfound friends and walked into the mouth
of the wormhole, where she was engulfed by Ellezelin’s warmer, yellower
sunlight.

“Holy crap!” Oscar muttered.

“That’s not her,” Tomansio said.

“She’s fucked us,” Beckia grunted. “Totally fucked us. She’s killed the
whole galaxy.”

On the other side of the starship’s cabin, Liatris shook his head, his
mouth raised in a lopsided smile of admiration. “Smart lady. They kept pushing
her and pushing her, backing her into an impossible corner. There were only
ever two options. Cave in or come out fighting. They never expected her to do
that.”

“Because that’s not her,” Tomansio said confidently.

“Looked like her,” Oscar said. His u-shadow was still accessing the
unisphere news feeds, showing the mouth of the wormhole not half a kilometer
from the Bootle & Leicester warehouse where the
Elvin’s
Payback
was secreted. It had taken a great deal of willpower not to run
out of the starship and take a look at events for himself. The unisphere feed
showed him hundreds of joyous people following their newfound messiah through
the wormhole to Ellezelin. Unisphere coverage ended there. The other end of the
wormhole was in a security zone.

The gaiafield, however, was still gifting Araminta’s sight and emotions
as she walked across the nearly empty staging field. Capsules rushed through
the air toward her. People were breaking off from their tasks on the acres of
machinery scattered about to cheer her arrival in Greater Makkathran.
And how is dear old Cleric Conservator Ethan going to react to
this?
he wondered.

“So that’s it,” Beckia said. She was still cranky at having to wear the
medical sleeve on her arm, which was busy knitting the deep-tissue repairs
she’d undergone after the fight in Francola Wood. Three other enriched agents
had swarmed her, and her integral force field had temporarily overloaded down
her left side. Oscar had pulled her out of the fray just before the capsules
landed. He considered her lucky. Tomansio had managed to extract them, and the
medical capsule that had repaired her had performed a minor miracle.

“Maybe,” Oscar said. “She must have a plan.”

“That’s a dangerous assumption,” Tomansio said. “Liatris got it right;
she’s been forced into this act simply to survive.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t her,” Oscar countered.

Tomansio’s handsome face shone with a bright smile. “Touché.”

“It’s her,” Oscar said.

“Still not convinced,” Tomansio said. “This …
empress
isn’t the same girl we’ve been chasing after. Facing down Living Dream simply
isn’t in her psychology.”

“What, then?” Beckia demanded.

“Double bluff,” Tomansio said. “They got to her; they broke into her mind
and installed their own operating routines. This is a puppet of Living Dream,
one that’s been pushed out center stage to focus everyone’s attention. Big
bonus that she’ll do what every follower wants and lead them to Pilgrimage. It
makes perfect sense for Ethan to do this; he gets everything he ever wanted.”

“Except lead Living Dream,” Oscar said. “That’s her next step. It has to
be; she can’t do anything else but claim the throne now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tomansio said. “He still gets what he wants, which
is a ticket into the Void, and at the same time he doesn’t get any of the blame
if it all goes belly-up.”

“Which it will,” Beckia said.

“I still don’t buy it,” Oscar said. He remembered the expression of fear
and determination he’d seen on Araminta’s face when they met oh so briefly in
Bodant Park. Her magnificent run eluding not just his team but the entire
complement of agents from every power player in the Commonwealth. Besides, she
was descended from Mellanie, and that meant
trouble
on a level these modern Greater Commonwealth citizens couldn’t comprehend. His
lips registered a slight smile.
Something
about the
whole situation wasn’t quite right—Tomansio had the truth of that—but he had
absolutely no idea what.

“Then what is she doing?” Beckia asked. “She might have come out fighting
from the corner they’d backed her into, but she’s burned any options. She has
to take Living Dream on Pilgrimage now. That’s what her whole tenuous authority
is based on.”