Thank you.
Syrinx made an effort to compress her sadness.
But you do realize we probably won’t get to go there.
I understand. We need to keep the hellhawks at bay.
I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted to go.
So did you. We must not be selfish, though. There is more at stake than our feelings. And we have explored further than anyone
else.
Oh yes!
Joshua will do well.
I know.
Amusement lifted her spirits.
A year ago I wouldn’t have been saying that.
It is not just you who has changed.
You always did like him, didn’t you?
He was what you feared to become. Your envy became disdain. You should never be scared of what you are, Syrinx. I will always
love you.
And I you.
She sighed contentedly. “Joshua, Swantic-LI found the Sleeping God at an F-class star three hundred and twenty light years
from here. Coordinates coming over.” She ordered the bridge processors to datavise the file over to
Lady Mac
’s flight computer.
“Hey, good work,
Oenone
.”
“Thank you, Joshua.”
“Okay, how do you want to break up the stand-off? If I launch a combat wasp salvo from here, they’ll be forced to swallow
out. We can combine to protect the cylinder. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll wipe each other out before they come back for
it.”
“No, Joshua. We can handle the stand-off. You take off now.”
“Jesus, you’re kidding.”
“We can’t waste the time which protecting the cylinder is going to take; it’ll be days most likely. And we certainly can’t
take the risk that we might both get damaged or killed in a fight with the hellhawks. You have to leave. Once the stand-off’s
over, we’ll follow.”
“That’s very cold and logical.”
“It’s very rational, Joshua. I am an Edenist after all.”
“All right. If you’re sure?”
“Who better?” She relaxed serenely on her acceleration couch, sharing
Oenone
’s perception of local space. Waiting.
Lady Macbeth
’s jump registered as a sharp twist in spacetime, gone in a nanosecond.
Syrinx looked round at her crew, reaching out to them so their thoughts and regrets could mingle with hers. Sharing herself
to achieve that cherished equipoise of their culture. It must have worked; for eventually she asked: “Anyone bring a pack
of cards?”
The two friends walked together along the top of Ketton island’s cliff, taking a few minutes alone together to say goodbye.
Their parting would be permanent. Choma had chosen to join with Tinkerbell, sharing that entity’s voyage across eternity;
while Sinon, almost uniquely among the serjeants, had decided to go back to Mortonridge.
I promised my wife I would return, that I would rejoin the multiplicity once more,
he said.
I will keep my word to her, for we believed in Edenism together. By doing this I will strengthen our culture. Not by much,
I will be the first to admit, but my conviction in us and the path we have chosen will contribute to the overall conviction
of the multiplicity and Consensus. We must believe in ourselves. To doubt now would be admitting we should never have existed.
And yet what we are doing is the pinnacle of Edenism,
Choma said.
By transferring ourselves into Tinkerbell’s version of the multiplicity we are evolving the human condition, moving on from
our origin with confidence and wonder. This is evolution, a constant learning curve, there is no limit to what we can find
in this realm.
But you will be alone, isolated from the rest of us. What is the point of knowledge if you cannot share it? If it cannot be
used to help everyone? The beyond is something the human race must face in union, we must know and accept our answer as one.
If Mortonridge taught us nothing else, it was that. Towards the end I had nothing but sympathy for the possessed.
We are both right. The universe is big enough to allow us that.
It is. Though I regret what you are doing. An unusual development. I think I have become more than I was supposed to in this
body. I believed such emotions would be impossible when I volunteered to join the Liberation.
Their development was inevitable,
Choma said.
We carry the seeds of humanity with us no matter what vessel our minds travel in. They were bound to flourish, to find their
own route forward.
Then I am no longer the Sinon who emerged from the multiplicity.
No. Any sentient entity who has lived, has changed.
I will have a soul then. A new soul, one that is different to the Sinon I remember.
You do. All of us do.
Then once again I will have to die before I transfer myself back to the multiplicity. What I bring to the habitat is only
such wisdom as I can muster. My soul doesn’t follow my memories, so the Kiint say.
Do you fear that day?
I don’t believe so. The beyond is not for everyone, knowing there is a way through, or round, as Laton claims, is enough to
give me confidence. Though there is some trepidation stirring within me.
You will overcome, I am sure. Never forget it is possible to succeed. That thought alone should guide you. I will remember.
They stopped on the crest of a mound and looked out over the island. Long lines of people were picking their way over the
cracked earth, the last refugees from the buried town heading towards the cliff top where Tinkerbell was pressed against the
rock. The giant crystal’s opalescent light sent ripples of gentle colour slithering over the drab ground. Air had coiled into
a topaz nimbus all around it.
How apt,
Sinon said.
It looks as though they are walking off into the sunset.
If I have a regret, it is that I won’t know how their lives finish. They will make a strange group, these souls who are going
to occupy serjeant bodies, their complete humanity always beyond their grasp.
When they came out of the beyond, they claimed all they wanted was sensation again. They have that now.
But they are genderless. Not to mention sexless. They can never know love.
Physical love, perhaps. But that certainly isn’t all the love there is. As with you and I, they will become whole in their
own way.
I feel their disquiet already, and they haven’t even reached Mortonridge yet.
They can learn to adapt to what lies ahead. The habitats will welcome them.
Nobody has ever become an Edenist against their will before. Now you have twelve thousand bewildered, angry strangers grumbling
away into the general affinity band. Most of them with a cultural background that will act against easy acceptance.
With patience and kindness they will find themselves again. Think what they have been through.
At last we come to the true difference between ourselves. I am restless and eager for the future, a voyager. You are ruled
by compassion, a healer of souls. Now you see why we have to part.
Of course, and I wish you well on your splendid voyage.
Likewise. I hope you find the peace you search for.
They turned, and walked back slowly along the rocky line of the cliff. Tiny crystalline entities whisked about overhead, never
pausing in one place for more than a moment. They had covered the whole island, making sure that every possessed knew there
was now a way back, and what staying here meant. It was the end of Ekelund’s rule. Her troops had abandoned her, banding together
defiantly to walk out of Ketton. Her threats and fury only hastened their departure.
Five long queues waited before Tinkerbell’s looming surface, winding through the scattered remnants of the headland camp.
Two of them made up from serjeants. The remainder (and keeping their distance) were the possessed. They waited in a strange
subdued mood, their anticipation and relief that the nightmare was about to end tempered by the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
Stephanie was waiting right at the tail end of the longest queue of possessed, along with Moyo, McPhee, Franklin, and Cochrane.
Tina and Rana had been amongst the first through. The crystalline entities had stabilized Tina, apparently repairing the damage
to her internal organs. But they all agreed the woman’s body ought to be seen by human specialists as soon as possible. For
herself, Stephanie decided she should be amongst the last. It was the responsibility thing again, she wanted to know everyone
else was okay.
“But you’re no’ responsible for them,” McPhee had said. “They all flocked to Ekelund’s banner. It’s their own bloody stupid
fault they’re here.”
“I know, but we’re the ones who tried to get Ekelund to stop, and failed miserably.” She shrugged, knowing how feeble she
sounded.
“I’ll wait with you,” Moyo said. “We’ll go through together.”
“Thank you.”
McPhee, Franklin, and Cochrane looked at each other, and said what the hell. They all joined the queue, standing behind Soi
Hon. The old eco-guerrilla was in his trademark dark jungle fatigues, with his felt bush-ranger hat tilted back as if he’d
just finished an arduous job. He eyed them with wry amusement and bowed to Stephanie. “I congratulate you on remaining true
to your principles.”
“I don’t think it really matters, but thank you anyway.” She sat on one of the many boulders, resting her wounded hip.
“Out of all of us, it was you who achieved the most.”
“You held off the serjeants.”
“Not for long, and only to further an ideal.”
“I thought you valued ideals.”
“I do. Or I used to. That is the problem with this situation. The old ideals don’t have any relevance here. I applied them
as did the political forces behind the Liberation. Both of us were very wrong. Look what we did to people, how many lives
and homes we ruined. All that effort poured into conflict and destruction. I used to say I belonged to the land.”
“I’m sure you thought you did what was the right thing.”
“Indeed I did, Stephanie Ash. Unfortunately, I didn’t think enough, for it was not the right thing to do. Not at all.”
“Well hey, it don’t matter no more, man,” Cochrane said. “The fat babe’s been singing out loud for a while now. We’re like
going home.” He offered Soi Hon his joint.
“No thank you. I do not wish to introduce poisons to this body. I am simply its custodian. I may soon even be held accountable
for any ills I have inflicted. After all, past the end of this queue we shall be facing them again, will we not? And we will
only be equals.”
Cochrane gave him a sour look and dropped his joint, grinding it into the mud under his heel. “Yeah, right, man,” he grunted.
“What about Ekelund?” Stephanie asked. “Where’s she?”
“Back at her command post. She refused the offer to return.”
“What? She’s crazy.”
“Undoubtedly, yes. But she sincerely believes that once the serjeants have gone, then this land will be free. She intends
to found her paradise here.”
Stephanie looked back at the patch of scabrous land that was Ketton.
“No,” Moyo said firmly. “She has made her own decision. And she certainly isn’t going to listen to you of all people.”
“I suppose not.”
Even at the rate of one possessed every few seconds, it took over seven hours for everyone to be repatriated. The procedure
was simple enough. Where Tinkerbell touched the cliff face, several oval tunnels had opened up, leading deep into her interior.
Their walls shone with a soft aquamarine light that grew progressively brighter until it eventually filled the cleft. You
just walked through, vanishing into the light.
Stephanie wasn’t the very last in. Moyo and McPhee had quietly and insistently stood behind her. She smiled in goodnatured
surrender and passed over the threshold. The air thickened in conjunction with the light, slowing the movement of her limbs.
Eventually it felt as though she was trying to walk through the crystal itself. There was an insistent pressure exerted against
every part of her. She felt the force move through her flesh, enabling her to speed up again. The aquamarine glow faded away,
showing that her body had become transparent, a pattern of light conducted by crystal. When she looked round she saw the body
she’d possessed standing behind her. The woman was holding her hands up, an expression of revulsion and satisfaction straining
her face.
“Choma?” Stephanie asked. “Choma, can you hear me? There’s something I need to do.”
“Hello, Stephanie. I thought this might happen.”
Occupying a serjeant’s body was the simplest thing. One waited for her, immured in crystal, completely passive with its big
head bowed. It didn’t matter which direction she walked in, she was always walking towards it. They merged, and it thickened
around her, returning the opaque aquamarine light. The sensations were peculiar; the exoskeleton had no tactile nerves, yet
it was somehow rigged to provide proof of contact. Her soles were definitely pressing down on a surface, air drifted over
her as she moved forwards. The aquamarine light cleared from her eyes, allowing her to focus with remarkable clarity.
She walked out of the oval tunnel, back onto the crusty trampled-down mud of Ketton Island. The rivers of coloured light which
emanated from Tinkerbell’s internal coruscations meandered over the ground. Nothing else moved.
It was a long slog back across the island to its central town. Even in the serjeant’s robust body it took her an hour and
a quarter. Tinkerbell departed when she was a third of the way there, arching away above her in a opalescent blaze, then shrinking
at an improbable speed. Stephanie began to pick up her pace. The air was stirring, slowly expanding again now the serjeants
had gone, a gentle breeze gusting out over the edge of the cliff. Their wishes remained for a while, of course, impregnated
on the fabric of this realm. But without their active presence to reinforce them, what was normality here began to return.