She walked over to the settee, an extraordinary sense of trepidation simmering in her mind. The figure stood, revealing its
true height, several centimetres taller than she. As with all Tranquillity serjeants, its exoskeleton was a faint ruddy colour,
although a good forty per cent of its body was covered in bright green medical nanonic packages. It held up both hands, and
turned them around, studying them intently, its eyes just visible at the back of their protective slits.
I must be quite a sight. They force-cloned all the organs separately, then stitched them together. Serjeants take fifteen
months to grow to full size usually; that would be far too long. So here we are, Frankenstein’s army, patched together and
rushed off the assembly line. The packages should have done their work before we reach Ombey.
Athene’s shoulders drooped, mirroring the dismay in her mind.
Oh, Sinon, what
have
you done?
What I had to. The serjeants must have some controlling consciousness. And seeing as how there were all us individual personalities
already available…
Yes, but not you!
Somebody has to volunteer.
I didn’t want you to be one.
I’m just a copy, my darling, and an edited down one at that. My real personality is still in the neural strata, suspended
for now. When I get back, or if this serjeant is destroyed, I’ll return to the multiplicity.
This is so wrong. You’ve had your life. It was a wonderful life, rich and exciting, and full of love. Transferring into the
multiplicity is our reward for living true to our culture, it should be like being a grandparent forever, a grandparent with
the largest family of relatives in the universe. You carry on loving, and you become part of something precious to all of
us.
She looked up at the hard mask that was its face, her own frail cheeks trembling.
You don’t come back. You just don’t. It’s not right, Sinon, it isn’t. Not for us, not for Edenists.
If we don’t help the Kingdom to liberate Mortonridge, there may not be any Edenists for very much longer.
No! I won’t accept that. I never have. I believe Laton if no one else does. I refuse to fear the beyond like some inadequate
Adamist.
It’s not the beyond we have to worry about, it’s those that have returned from it.
I was one of those who opposed this Mortonridge absurdity.
I know.
By committing ourselves to it, we’re no better than animals. Beasts lashing out; it’s filthy. Humans can be so much more.
But rarely are.
That’s what Edenism was supposed to be about, to lift us above this primitivism. All of us.
The serjeant put its arm out towards her, then withdrew it hurriedly. Shame leaked out into the affinity band.
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I see how much this hurts you. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes one
last time.
They’re not your own eyes; and you’re not even Sinon, not really. I think that’s what I hate most about this. It’s not just
Adamist religions the beyond undermines, it’s ruined the whole concept of transference. What’s the point? You are your soul,
if you are anything. The Kiint are right, simulacrum personalities are nothing more than a sophisticated library of memories.
In our case, the Kiint are wrong. The habitat personality has a soul. Our individual memories are the seeds of its consciousness.The
more there are of us in the multiplicity, the richer its existence and heritage becomes. Knowledge of the beyond hasn’t ruined
our culture. Edenism can adapt, it can learn and grow. Surmounting this time intact will be our triumph. And that’s what I’m
fighting for, to give us that physical chance. I know the Mortonridge Liberation is a fraud, we all do. But that doesn’t stop
it from being valid.
You’re going to kill people. However careful you are, however well intentioned you are, they will die.
Yes. I didn’t start this, and I won’t be the one who stops it. But I must play my part. To do nothing would be to sin by omission.
What I and the others do on Mortonridge might buy you enough time.
Me?
You, Consensus, the Adamist researchers, maybe even priests. All of you have to keep looking. The Kiint found a way to face
the beyond and survive. It’s here somewhere.
I’ll do what I can, which at my age is very limited.
Don’t underestimate yourself.
Thank you. You haven’t been edited down that much, you know.
Some parts of me can’t be edited, not if I want to keep being me. Bearing that in mind, I have one last favour to ask of you.
Go on.
I’d like you to explain this to Syrinx for me. I know my little Sly-minx, she’ll go nova when she hears I volunteered for
this.
I’ll tell her. I don’t know if I can explain, but. ..
The serjeant bowed as best the medical packages would allow.
Thank you, Athene.
I can’t give you my blessing. But do please take care.
• • •
There was no lavish farewell party this time. Monterey had a more serious, less triumphant air these days. But Al chose the
Hilton’s ballroom anyway to watch the fleet coming together, and to hell with any bad feelings and resentment it stirred up
in his head. He stood in front of the window, gazing out at the starships clustered around Monterey. There were over a hundred
and fifty of them, dwindling away until the more distant ones were nothing more than big stars. Ion thrusters fired microsecond
jets of gauzy blue neon to keep their attitude locked. MSVs and personnel commuters swam among them, delivering new crew and
combat wasps.The stealthed mines which the voidhawks from Yosemite had scattered were no more, returning space around New
California to a more peaceful state. Even the voidhawks sent to observe the Organization were finding it increasingly difficult
to maintain their inspection high above New California’s poles.
As if to emphasise the change in local strategic fortunes, a hellhawk hurtled past the Hilton tower, twisting about in complex
curves to dodge the stationary Adamist starships. It was one of the harpies, a red-eyed beast with a hundred-and-eighty-metre
wingspan and a vicious-looking beak.
Al pressed himself up against the window to watch as it skirred around the asteroid. “Go you beaut,” he yelled after it. “Go
get ’em. Go!”
A small puff of pink dust erupted from nowhere as a stealthed spyglobe was masered. The hellhawk performed a victory roll,
wingtip feathers standing proud to twist the solar wind.
“Wow!” Al pulled back from the window, smiling magnanimously. “Ain’t that something else?”
“Glad I can live up to my part of the bargain,” Kiera said with cool objectivity.
“Lady, after this, you got as many fresh bodies as you want for Valisk. Al Capone knows how to reward his friends. And believe
me, this is what I call friendly.”
A serene smile ghosted her beautiful young face. “Thank you, Al.”
The cluster of Organization lieutenants at the rear of the ballroom kept their expressions stoic, while their minds palpitated
with jealousy. Al liked that; introduce a new favourite in court, and see how the old-timers bid to prove themselves. He sneaked
a look at Kiera’s profile; she was wearing a loose-fitting purple blouse and second-skin-tightness trousers, hair tied back
with fussy decorum. Her face was beguiling, with its prim features kept firmly under control. But smouldering deep behind
it was the old familiar illness of powerlust. She had more class than most, but she wasn’t so different.“How we doing, Luigi?”
Al bellowed.
“Pretty good, Al. The hellhawk crews say they should have cleared away every mine and spyglobe in another thirty-two hours.
We’re pushing those asshole voidhawks back further and further, which means they can’t launch any more crap at us. They don’t
know what we’re doing anymore, and they can’t hurt us so bad. It makes one hell of a difference. The fleet’s shaping up great
now. The guys, they’re getting their morale back, you know.”
“Glad to hear it.” Which was an understatement. It had been looking bad for a while, what with the voidhawks launching their
unseen weapons and the lieutenants down on the planet abusing their authority to carve themselves out some territory. Funny
how all problems locked together. Now the hellhawks had arrived the situation in space was improving by the hour. The crews
were no longer living in constant fear of a strike by a stealthed mine, which improved their efficiency and confidence by
orders of magnitude. People on the ground sensed the fresh tide above them and wanted to play ball again. The number of beefs
was dropping; and the guys Leroy had working the Treasury electric adding machines said fraud was levelling out—not falling
yet, but shit you couldn’t expect miracles.
“How do you keep the hellhawks in line?” Al asked.
“I can guarantee them human bodies when their work’s finished,” Kiera said. “Bodies which they can go straight into without
having to return to the beyond first. They’re very special bodies, and you don’t have any.”
“Hey.” Al spread his arms wide, puffing out a huge cloud of cigar smoke. “I wasn’t trying to muscle in on you, sister. No
way. You got a neat operation. I respect that.”
“Good.”
“We need to talk terms about another squadron. I mean, between you and me, I’m in deep shit over Arnstadt—pardon my French.
The goddamn voidhawks there are wasting a couple of my ships each day. Something’s gotta be done.”
Kiera gave a noncommittal moue. “And what about this fleet? Won’t you need a squadron to protect it from voidhawks at Toi-Hoi?”
Al didn’t need to consult Luigi over that one, he could sense the hunger in the fleet commander’s mind. “Now you come to mention
it, it might not be a bad idea.”
“I’ll see to it,” Kiera said. “There should be another group of hellhawks returning to Valisk today. If I dispatch a messenger
now, they should be back here within twenty-four hours.”
“Sounds pretty damn good to me, lady.”
Kiera raised her walkie-talkie, and pulled a long length of chrome aerial out of it. “Magahi, would you return to Monterey’s
docking ledge, please.”
“Roger,” a crackling voice said from the walkie-talkie. “Give me twenty minutes.”
Al was aware of an uncomfortable amount of satisfaction in Kiera’s mind. She was pretty sure she’d just won something. “Couldn’t
you just tell Magahi to go straight back to the habitat?” he inquired lightly.
Kiera’s smile widened gracefully. It was the same welcoming promise which had ended the Deadnight recording. “I don’t think
so. There’s a big security factor if we radio the order; after all there are still some spyglobes out there. I don’t want
the Edenists to know Magahi is flying escort on a frigate convoy.”
“Escort? What frigates?”
“The frigates carrying the first batch of my antimatter combat wasps to Valisk. That was your part of the bargain, Al, wasn’t
it?”
Damn the bitch! Al’s cigar had gone out. Emmet said their stocks of antimatter were nearly exhausted, and the fleet needed
every gram to insure success at Toi-Hoi. He looked at Leroy, then Luigi. Neither of them could offer him a way out. “Sure
thing, Kiera. We’ll get it organized.”
“Thank you, Al.”
Tough little ironass. Al couldn’t decide if he respected that or not. He didn’t need any more complications right now. But
he was awful glad that she was lining up on his side.
He took another sidelong look at her figure. Who knows? We could get to be real close allies. Except Jez would kill me for
real. . .
The ballroom’s huge double doors swung open to admit Patricia and someone Al had never seen before. A possessed man, who managed
to cringe away from Patricia at the same time as he scampered along beside her. Judging by the perilously fragile state of
his thoughts he had only just come into his new body.
He saw Al, and made an effort to compose himself. Then his eyes darted to the huge window. His discipline crumpled. “Holy
cow,” he whispered. “It is true. You are going to invade Toi-Hoi.”
“Who the fuck is this goofball?” Al shouted at Patricia.
“His name’s Perez,” she said calmly. “And you need to listen to him.”
If it had been anyone else who spoke to him like that, they would’ve been kiboshed. But Patricia was one he really trusted.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
“Think what he just said, Al.”
Al did. “How did you know about Toi-Hoi?” he asked.
“Khanna! I got it from Khanna. She told me to tell you. She said one of us must get through. Then she killed me. She killed
all of us. No, not killed, executed, that’s what she did, executed us. Smash smash smash with the white fire. Straight through
my brain. That bitch! I’d only been back for five minutes. Five goddamn minutes!”
“Who told you, fella? Who’s this she you got the beef with?”
“Jacqueline Couteur. Back in Trafalgar. The Confederation Navy got her banged up in the demon trap. I hope she rots there.
Bitch.”
Patricia smiled a superior I-told-you-so, which Al acknowledged frugally. He put his arm around Perez’s shaking shoulders,
and proffered the man a Havana. “Okay, Perez. You got my word, the word of Al Capone, which is the toughest currency of all,
that nobody here is gonna send you back into the beyond again. Now, you wanna start at the beginning for me?”
The
Leonora Cephei
’s radar was switched to long-range scanning mode, searching for any sign of another ship. After five hours gliding inertly
along its orbital path, there hadn’t been a single contact.
“How much longer do you expect me to muck in with this charade of yours?” Captain Knox asked scathingly. He indicated the
holoscreen which was displaying the ship’s radar return. “I’ve seen Pommy cricket teams with more life in them than this bugger.”