The Evolutionary Void (88 page)

“I understand.”

“I’ll take the Waterwalker and Inigo in the
Silverbird
,”
Justine said. “It’s in better shape than the
Mellanie’s
Redemption
. I think it will launch again. If not, we can reset to a few
days before I land here.”

“No,” Gore said. “Take this ship. Its fully acclimatized to the Void now,
so functionality shouldn’t be a problem anymore. And we’re probably going to
need some serious badass firepower if we run into Ilanthe.”

“This ship?”

Gore gave her a pitying look. “What do you think you’re standing on?”

Standing atop the sweeping steps of the Lady’s church with the others
gathering around him, Edeard finally felt as if he was coming alive again. This
whole time had seemed bizarre, like some kestric-fueled dream. There was
nothing for him to grasp, nothing to assure him he was living. Even
encountering Inigo was something he imagined might eventually befall him in the
Heart, which contributed to the sense of unreality.

But now …

Raw excitement accelerated his heart, sending hot blood pounding through
his body. He was smiling as he sent his farsight racing down below the streets,
past the travel tunnels, winding through the strange conduits and glowing lines
of energy that pervaded the structure all the way down and down—Makkathran’s
mind slumbered on still, as unchanged as the buildings and canals, those giant
thoughts pulsing in their slow somber beat.

The Waterwalker’s thoughts lifted rapturously as he gifted his perception
to his new friends, welcoming the sheer flamboyance, the audacity of the
moment. How Kristabel and Macsen would have loved this, and as for the twins …
“I know what you are now,” he told the great sleeper, pouring sincerity, sheer
belief
into what he was saying. Sharing himself utterly.
“I know why you came to this universe. And you should know, others have
followed you in. We think we can end this now. You can finish what you
started.”

The vast thoughts began to quicken, their wide strands of gentle musings
coming together into a cohesive whole. Makkathran’s consciousness arose. “You?
I remember you. I thought you had gone, along with the rest of your kind.”

“I was brought back. I believe I am your way into the Heart.”

“You have forgotten much. I am content to end here.”

Edeard felt his soul brother grip his hand. Inigo’s confidence, his
surety, was astounding.

“We do not go there to submit to absorption,” Inigo told Makkathran
unwaveringly. “We are here to finish this. The time you feared has arrived.
Millions of my species are on their way to this world. They know its secret,
and all of them are intent on resetting the Void to their own whim. The ensuing
devourment phase will consume the galaxy.”

“It cannot be stopped,” Makkathran said. “The Void is what it is.”

“There is a chance. I believe we can still reason with it.”

“The Void does not listen. We tried. I watched my kind die in the tens of
thousands as they attempted to pass through the final barrier. It was all for
nothing. The flames of their death outshone the nebulae that day.”

“An entity has arrived in the Void who may make things worse. The
devourment phase is beginning. And finally we have the smallest, most fragile
opportunity to speak with the nucleus, the primary sentience. It will accept
one of us if a Skylord guides him to the Heart. Help us. Please. Your species
is still out there on the other side of the barrier, doing what they can. In
all the eons since you came, they have never faltered. We owe them so much; we
owe them this last attempt.”

“My kind still live?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. I thought I heard one once, not so long ago. I called out,
but it was your race who came instead.”

“Please,” Edeard said. “I was guided to the Heart once before. Whatever
sacrifice I have to make to be guided again, I will do so, I swear upon the
Lady.”

Makkathran’s thoughts fluctuated, dousing them all in a wave of ancient
sorrow. Edeard was humbled by everything the city had endured, its terrible
loss.

“I did not expect change to befall me ever again,” it told them. “I did
not expect to be shown hope, however small. I did not expect to do what I was
born to do: to fly against the greatest enemy once more. You have brought this
to me. For that I should show thanks. If the galaxy is to fall, then it is
fitting that I should fall with it. I will take you.”

“Thank you,” Edeard said.

“Thank you,” the others chorused.

They waited bunched together on the broad expanse outside the Lady’s
church, farsight probing around, alert for the first change to manifest. They
waited with the irrepressible excitement of schoolchildren knowing they were to
witness something wholly spectacular.

Justine caught it first. “There,” she cried, her mind urging the others.
“There, look, the crystal wall.”

All around the city, the high translucent gold wall that defined the edge
was growing upward. It raced into the sky with astounding speed as the city put
forth its will. Then they were tilting their heads back to gape in admiration
as it curved overhead. Half an hour after the growth began, the last shrinking
circle of clear sky vanished as the crystal melded together. The city was
encased in a perfect dome.

Makkathran exerted its wishes. A mind larger than mountains engaged the
Void’s elementary mass location ability, demanding that matter move in the
manner it wanted.

Out beyond the sealed-off Port district, the Lyot Sea parted. Two vast
tsunamis of water rushed apart, surging away from the shore, exposing the
seabed for tens of miles. Water was the easy part. Makkathran continued its
manipulation. The naked seabed cracked open with a howl of destruction that
shredded any organic matter within fifty miles. Fissures deepened, slicing down
through the ancient lava as they raced inland to splinter the Iguru plain.

Oscar was laughing helplessly as the ground shook furiously, triggering
massive landslides over in the distant Donsori Mountains. It was the kind of
semihysteria that was contagious. Edeard found himself grinning wildly in
sympathy as he was toppled to his knees. Waves chased along the canals,
sloshing over the edges as the earthquake’s power built. He could see the tips
of the Eyrie towers rocking from side to side. Agitated air was slapping clouds
against the outside of the dome.

“Glad we brought you back now?” Oscar called tauntingly above the roar.

The Iguru plain and the uncovered seabed had shattered down to a single level
zone of undulating rubble. All the odd little volcanoes juddered about like
disintegrating icebergs as their mass dissolved down into the churning debris.
The city gave a sudden lurch, thrusting a hundred meters straight up as the
land’s grip was finally broken. Edeard yelled in delirious shock along with
everyone else as the impetus knocked him flat. He gave Oscar a crazy thumbs-up.
“Oh, Lady, am I ever,” he longspoke above the tremendous din that was
penetrating the protective crystal. What the devastation must be like outside
was something he couldn’t conceive.

Frenzied clouds slid down the sides of the curving crystal as the domed
city began to rise farther. That was just the apex of the immense warship.

Makkathran, last survivor of the Raiel armada, soared back up into the
sky it had fallen from a million years ago and headed for the clean emptiness
of space.

Gore Burnelli didn’t often admit admiration for other people, least of
all meat humans. But he had to acknowledge that Araminta had done a fine job
living in two different time flows. Even though he’d been one of the pioneers
of enhanced mentality, he was finding the going a little tough.

The segment of his mind designated to maintain the connection to Justine
was racing on ahead, looking back at the ponderous events on the Anomine
homeworld with something approaching contempt. It would be very easy to divest
himself of his sluggish flesh and live fast and free in the Void. He had to
focus hard on the other aspects of his mind and the requirements they served to
dismiss the notion. The temptation was pulling with unrelenting tidal force.

For a heartbeat he watched from the entranceway of the Lady’s church as
Makkathran flew clear of Querencia’s atmosphere and then accelerated after the
Skylord that had brought the
Mellanie’s Redemption
just a few hours earlier.

Exoimage displays surrounded him, tracing the progress of the infiltrator
filaments as they slithered through the molecular structure of the elevation
mechanism, chasing down the network pathways and penetrating delicate
junctions. Primary attention switch—to the massed ranks of code awaiting
initialization so the packages could slide into alien software, mimicking the
routines in order to subvert them. His accelerated mind watched the symbology
flip around at a speed he could actually follow as they analyzed the first
impulses flashing through the junctions.

Incoming call—which he answered with another segment operating within his
meat skull.

“We’re in,” the Delivery Man said. “I’m establishing control over all
major siphon systems. The override is disengaged. Full wormhole initialization
sequence is running. Power generation is increasing. I need to take that slow;
there’s nowhere to send it yet.”

“Well done.”

“I never knew Makkathran was a Raiel ship.”

“What else could it be? Haven’t you ever visited
High
Angel
?”

“No, actually.”

“Oh. Well, those domes are the real giveaway. They’re identical.”

“Obviously.”

“Any sign of Marius?”

“I haven’t got a decent sensor that can function down here in the
innermost circle. Hysradar works, but it’s useless. He must be in stealth mode,
still.”

“Keep watching. When he finally figures out we can stop his precious
Ilanthe, he won’t take it well.”

“Oh, crap. All right.”

Makkathran caught up with the Skylord just before it crossed Nikran’s
orbit, barely two million miles from the desert planet. Edeard stood in the
square at the center of Sampalok, staring at the small brown orb that appeared
to be hanging just above the mansion. It was kindling a surprising amount of
nostalgia. He could just make out some of the surface features as he’d done
that other day, now lost in the broken past, when he’d sat in the Malfit Hall
waiting to be called before the Mayor and handed his bronze epaulets. His
squadmates had teased him for his questions about other people living on
Nikran. They never knew as he did that humans lived on hundreds of worlds. And
now they never would.

Or maybe they do. Who knows what they see
from the Heart?

Of all the revelations Inigo had brought, knowing that the Void was a
danger to life everywhere was the hardest to accept.

“I always hated that Ladydamned thing,” Inigo said, glaring at the
six-sided mansion.

“The mansion?” Corrie-Lyn asked in surprise.

“No, the arcology in Kuhmo. It dominated every day of my life while I was
growing up. That’s one of the reasons I offered the town council all that money
to demolish the monstrosity, so kids wouldn’t be so blighted in future.”

“It did fill your mind,” Edeard confirmed. “I wasn’t really sure what
genuine human architecture looked like, and I was in a hurry that day. It was
the obvious choice.

“Thank the Lady you didn’t build it full size.”

“I saw the fane you replaced it with,” Corrie-Lyn said drily. “It wasn’t
a whole lot better.”

Inigo grinned back at her. “There’s gratitude.”

Edeard sensed concern growing in Justine’s mind. He glanced over to see
her standing close to Gore, whose golden face had hardened with worry.

“What?”

“Some events are outside our control,” Justine said. “I think you need to
ask the Skylord now.”

The creature they were pursuing was still half a million kilometers away,
a shimmering patch to one side of Nikran. Edeard eyed it reluctantly. If it
declared he wasn’t fulfilled, Inigo would have to delve down into the memory
layer and bring out a version of himself who was. There were few enough
certainties for him right now, but encountering his future self was something
he knew he didn’t want to endure. “I’ll try.” He felt for the Skylord, finding
it on the edge of perception. Usually their thoughts were composed and content.
He’d never known one to host such confusion before. It was grieving for its
kindred that had succumbed to Ilanthe, and the colossal warship racing after it
was also unsettling. There were ancient ancestral memories about such things:
the time of chaos.