Heaven's Reach (76 page)

Just get us home in time
, she thought, whether or not a Transcendent might still be listening.

By the time
Streaker
passed the triple beacons of Tanith, Gillian knew the impossible was about to happen.

We're going to see Earth again … though perhaps only from afar.

When golden Sol filled the view screen, they began encountering new warning buoys, laid down by a different bureaucracy.

It went on like that for a while, listing some of the factions who had laid siege to Gillian's homeworld—a long, intimidating roll call. Apparently, after years of bickering over who should get the privilege of conquering Earth, the Soro, Tandu, Jophur, and others had agreed to join forces and divide the spoils.

On the defending side, a tally of humanity's allies remained depressingly sparse. The Tymbrimi had remained true, at great cost. And the doughty Thennanin. Material aid—arms, but not fighters—had been smuggled in by p'ort'ls, zuhgs, and Synthians, as well as a faction of the Awaiter Alliance. And a new group, calling itself the
Acolytes
, had lately sent shiploads of volunteers.

The War Institute message went on to describe a long chain of protests, filed by the Soro and others, complaining about “wolfling tricks” that had stymied several successive attempts to bring their warships within firing range of Earth, resulting in massive casualities and the loss of several dozen major capital vessels, all caused by weapons and tactics not found in the Galactic Library,
and therefore suspiciously improper ways for folks to slay their own would-be murderers!

That part made Gillian chuckle proudly … though apparently the Terragens Council was running out of “tricks.” In fact, their forces were now reduced to a fiery ring, marked by Luna's orbit.

The Institute buoy finished by officially attesting that the rules of war had largely been adhered to as this conflict wound down to its inevitable conclusion.

“Some rules!” sniffed Suessi. In other eras, the War Institute had formalized combat to a relatively harmless sport, pitting professional champions against each other for privilege or honor. But under today's loose strictures—made almost unenforceable by recent chaos—the battle fleets infesting Earth could do almost anything. Gas its cities. Capture and “adopt” its citizens. Anything except harm the planet's fragile biosphere. And even that might be overlooked as society unraveled.

There was some good news. Apparently, the so-called Coalition of Moderate Races had finally declared open opposition to the siege, gathering forces to compel a cease-fire. The first units might arrive in a few weeks, if they weren't held up by traffic snarls.

We've heard such promises before
, Gillian thought bitterly.

The Niss reported that oddsmakers and bookies (who hardly paused doing business, despite the Great Rupture) gave Terrans little hope of lasting that long.

“Well, a lot has changed lately,” she told
Streaker
's crew as they plunged toward the shell-of-battle surrounding their home star. “Let's see if we can make a difference.”

Her plans remained flexible, depending on what conditions were like near Earth.

Perhaps it might be possible to break the siege by causing a distraction. After all, her ship was the great prize everyone had been chasing for so long. Word of
Streaker
's discoveries in the Shallow Cluster had set off all this frenzy in the first place. Nor would that passion
have abated, with the Great Rupture fresh in memory and apocalyptic prophecies crisscrossing civilization, more disruptive than chaos waves. While tumult still rattled every sector and quadrant, each dogmatic alliance would feel more anxious than ever to solve the Progenitors' Riddle before its rivals.

What if
Streaker
suddenly appeared before the besieging forces, confronting the attackers, taunting them, and then turning to flee across a turbulent galaxy? Might that draw the battle fleets away, buying Earth much-needed time? With luck, it could reignite strife between the Tandu and other radical factions, winnowing their ranks so the timid “moderates” might at last intervene.

Such a move might seem to conflict with Gillian's orders from the Terragens Council. Those instructions had been to hide. Above all, not to let Creideiki's data fall into the wrong hands.
Streaker
should surrender the information only to qualified impartial agencies, or else when the people of the Five … rather,
Four
Galaxies, could agree how to share it.

Well, I've taken care of that! What agency could be more “qualified and neutral” than the merged community that took over the former Jophur battleship
, Polkjhy?
A consortium of emissaries from several life orders, picked by the transcendents to represent our entire macroculture to some far-distant realm?

All the Ghost Fleet samples, including Herbie the enigmatic cadaver, were now aboard that transformed starship, racing far beyond reach of even the most dogged zealot. Perhaps some far-distant alien civilization would be suitably impressed, or even be able to answer questions about the enigma.

All that remains from the Shallow Cluster is a set of coordinates. And those are in a safe place.

Heady sensations filled Gillian's chest. She recognized the source.

Freedom.

Along with
Streaker
's remaining crew, she now felt liberated of an awful burden. A weight of importance that used to hang on them all like a shroud, requiring
that they slink and hide, like prey. Too valuable to be brave.

But that had changed.

We are soldiers now. That is all

Soldiers of Earthclan.

Hyperspace

E
VERYTHING UNRAVELED AFTER THE GREAT RUPTURE
. all the wonderful structure—the many-layered textures of spacetime—began coming apart.

Wer'Q'quinn's experts had warned Harry. Recoil effects would be far worse in Galaxy Four, when all its ancient links to other spirals snapped and most transfer points collapsed. Additionally, all the known levels of hyper-space—A through E—would come more or less unfastened, like skins sloughing off a snake, and largely go their own way.

Not only have I lost any hope of going home
, he thought during the wild ride that followed.
We may all be stuck forever in some pathetic corner of a single spiral arm. Perhaps even a solar system!

That assumed they even made it safely back to normal space.

Harry's station shuddered and moaned. All the louvered blinds rattled in their frames, while unnerving cracks began working their way through the thick crystal panes. Just outside, a maze of transfer threads churned like tormented worms, whipping in terminal agony, Spaciogeometric links, robbed of their moorings, now snapped violently, slicing and shredding each other to bits.

This seemed a frightfully bad time to try evading the speed of light with shortcuts that had been routine for aeons. Cheating Einstein had become a perilous felony.

It might have been safer simply to drop to normal space and ride out the aftershocks near some star with a
habitable fallow planet. Worst case—if FTL travel became impossible—at least they might have a place to land. But Kaa would have none of that. Almost from the moment they dropped out of E Space, the dolphin took over control, ditching the now useless corvette, and sent Harry's station careening through a nearby transfer point—a dying maelstrom—desperately scouring for a route to the one place he called home.

Harry had never seen piloting so brilliant—or half so mad. His stubby station was hardly a sport-skimmer, yet Kaa threw the vessel into swooping turns, hopping among the radiant threads like some doped-up gibbon, brachiating through a burning forest, throwing its weight from one flaming vine to the next. Kaa's tail repeatedly slapped the flotation pad. The dolphin's eyes were sunken and glazed while floods of information poured through his neural tap. A ratchet of sonar clicks sprayed from the high-domed skull, sometimes merging to form individual words.

Peepoe
was one Harry heard often. Having done his duty for
Streaker
and Earth, Kaa had just one priority—to reach his beloved.

Harry sympathized.
I just wish he asked me before taking us on this insane ride!

No one dared break Kaa's concentration. Even Rety kept silent, nervously stroking her little urrish husband. Kiwei Ha'aoulin crouched, muttering to herself in a Synthian dialect, perhaps wishing she had listened to the inner voice of caution rather than greed.

Only Dwer seemed indifferent to fear. The young hunter braced his back against the control console, and one foot on a nearby window, leaving both hands free to polish his bow while a Gordian knot of cosmic strings unraveled spectacularly outside.

Well, I guess anything can seem anticlimactic
, Harry thought.
After watching a whole chain of supernovas go off at once—and having the Path seize you like some agonized monster—one might get jaded with something as mundane as a conflagration in hyperspace.

Kaa pealed a yammering cry, sending the station plunging toward a huge thread whose loose end lashed,
shuddering and spraying torrents of horrid sparks! Rety shouted. Vertigo roiled Harry's guts, threatening to void his bowels. He covered his eyes, bracing for impact …

 … and swayed when nothing happened.

Not even a vibration. Around him stirred only a low chucker of engines, gently turning over.

Both fearful and curious, Harry lowered his hands.

Stars shone, beyond the pitted glass. Patterns of soft lights. Stable. Permanent.

Well, almost. One patch twinkled oddly, as a wave of warped metric rippled past. Tapering chaos disturbances, still causing the vacuum to shiver. Still, how much better this seemed than that awful pit of sparking serpents!

Behind the station, receding rapidly, lay the transfer point they had just exited, marked by flashing red symbols.

DO NOT ENTER
, blazoned one computer-generated icon.

NEXUS TERMINALLY DISRUPTED
.

CONDITIONS LETHAL WITHIN
.

I can believe that
, Harry thought, vowing to embrace Kaa, the first chance he got … and to
shoot
the pilot if he tried to enter another t-point like that one.

In the opposite direction, growing ever larger, stood the red disk of a giant star.

“Izmunuti?” Harry guessed.

Kaa was still chattering to himself. But Dwer gave an emphatic nod.

“I'd know it anywhere. Though the storms seem to've settled since the last time we passed this way.”

Rety reacted badly to this news.

“No!” Her fists clenched toward Harry. “You promised I wouldn't have to go back! Turn this ship around. Take me back to civilization!”

“I don't think you grasp the problem,” he replied. “At this rate, we'd be lucky to reach
any
habitable world. Clearly, the nearest one is—”