The fake spider creature had been released into the hangar three days ago. Jessika had directed it, slowly taking it around the base of the walls, avoiding the genuine Olyix service creatures. As it went, it spooled out a single long-molecule fiber that conducted data. She stopped the creature every few hundred meters and emplaced a sensor clump the size of a pinhead, opening up their view of the hangar.
Kandara approved of that. Nothing could sneak up on them now. Not that there was ever going to be much they could do if the Olyix did spot them.
Now the remote had reached the big entrance to the hangar. An invisible force membrane covered it, holding the air in—similar to Earth’s shields, although this one had permitted the transport ships to pass through. Jessika walked the creeperdrone fake forward. The force opposing the remote was similar to walking directly into a hurricane. It edged forward, exerting itself at the top end of its power. When it broke through, it was in vacuum. The downward curving passage beyond was devoid of the pipe trunks that covered the hangar; naked rock walls continued all the way to the hole that broached the arkship’s surface. The creeperdrone stood on the edge and looked out.
“Has it glitched?” Alik asked.
They were back in their tanks, which put them back on the simulation bridge. It had changed since their initial flights back in the Delta Pavonis system. Now there were split levels and curving rails. Walls had unoccupied crew stations, with chairs; consoles had rows of switches and keyboards between small screens filled with slim, colorful graphics. Instead of the original display that had hung between their consoles, they now had a panoramic wall screen ahead of them. Kandara suspected either Yuri or Callum was oozing memories of old sci-fi shows into the simulation template. But she did have to admit, the bridge felt a lot more like a real spaceship now.
Everyone stared at the main screen. It showed nothing. When she reviewed the direct feed from the remote to confirm its location, the lip of rock slipped into her vision. It was in the right place. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Why can’t we see the wormhole?”
“Technically, you can,” Callum said. “It’s the part of the image that doesn’t exist. At a guess, I’d say the interior of the wormhole is a continuum that doesn’t permit photon propagation.”
Kandara had forgotten Callum had a physics degree. Sure, it was a century out of date, but still it was the only one on board. “You mean it’s dark?”
“No. There is no visuality. It’s a structure composed entirely of exotic matter, so it probably doesn’t even qualify as an open space. It’s not surprising the creeperdrone’s sensors see nothing. I’m guessing our poor old animal brains interpret that as black.”
“What about Cherenkov radiation?”
“Not in here. Though now you bring it up, there should be somewhere the arkship’s physical structure intersects the exotic matter. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“So what you’re saying is we’re not going to see the end of the tunnel approaching?” Yuri said.
“That’s about it.”
“The Salvation of Life will certainly be aware of it,” Jessika said. “From what I can make out, there’re only a couple of days’ travel remaining until we’re at the sensor base.”
“We need to finalize our actions,” Yuri said. “Do we try and release a Signal transmitter there?”
“It’s not the enclave,” Alik said quickly.
“Yeah, but we both know now the enclave is a lot farther away than anyone was thinking. The pulse those Signal transmitters are going to put out have a limited range.”
“I thought detection was limited by the size of the radio telescope humans use to find it.”
“You’re right,” Callum said. “But the farther away we are, the longer the Signal will take to reach this part of the galaxy. If the exodus habitats haven’t picked it up after a couple of thousand years, then they’ll probably assume we didn’t make it. Nobody will look for it. And if they do, catching the pulses becomes progressively more difficult over distance.”
“The Olyix aren’t going to abandon this sensor station we’re heading for just because we broadcast its location,” Kandara said. “They have to use it to send their next wave of ships to Sol and the settled worlds. That’s going to take them a century or more, depending on how far away we are. If anything, they’ll reinforce it with ships from the enclave star system, wherever that is.”
“It might not take a century,” Jessika said. “I’ve been examining what I can in the Salvation of Life’s onemind. The Olyix were surprised when they arrived at Earth; they didn’t expect humans to have accomplished interstellar travel so quickly. We know they were trying to establish their own portals between Sol and the settled worlds, but it looks like they had a backup in case that didn’t work.”
“What fucking backup?” Yuri demanded.
“There are nine ships on their way from the sensor station to the settled worlds. As far as I can make out, they left decades ago.”
“Sweet fucking Mary,” Kandara snarled. “How long until they get there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a few decades, still. But you can be sure one or more will be diverted to Earth now. It’s the key to their crusade—capturing as many humans as they can to make pilgrimage to their God at the End of Time. There are billions of people still on Earth, and once the Resolution ships arrive, there’s only going to be one outcome.”
“So you’re saying don’t try and Signal Sol when we get to the observation base?” Alik asked.
“We can’t,” she said regretfully. “It will expose us. If that happens, the chances of us getting to the enclave are going to be nonexistent.”
“Makes sense to me,” Callum said.
“I’m for trying to reach the enclave,” Kandara said. It would have been nice to fire off a Signal transmitter, sure in the knowledge that people would receive it, but ultimately it was an empty gesture. That wasn’t why she was here. Besides, so much effort and sacrifice had gone into placing them on board the Salvation of Life; sending the Signal from here would be a betrayal.
“This ain’t a half-measures mission,” Alik said. “We aim for the enclave and burn these motherfuckers.”
“Question,” Callum said. “What about the Neána? Jessika?”
“What about them?”
“If they detect our Signal coming from the sensor station, would they be able to use it?”
“To do what?” she asked.
“To fight. To fly here and force their way down the wormhole to the enclave. Surely that’s your ultimate goal?”
“I’m not Neána. I’m human, or try to be. I don’t know what the Neána endgame is.”
“Sorry. I thought you might be able to guess.”
“As much and as little as you.”
Kandara squashed a smile. She could see Callum’s cheeks were flushed. We’re really melding with the simulation—or it with us.
“The Neána aren’t going to help us,” Alik said. “They’ve done all they were ever going to do by sending you to warn us.”
“How do you figure that?” Jessika asked.
“Because if they’d wanted to attack Olyix installations with warship versions of the insertion ship that brought you, they would have sent them to Sol and ambushed the Salvation of Life.”
“Good point,” Yuri said.
“Face it,” Alik said. “We’ve had entire teams of strategists, psychologists, and scientists trying to work out the Neána ever since you put that axe through Feriton’s skull. Hell, there was one think tank that even drafted some science fiction writers in to give a fresh perspective. And all they came up with was jack shit.”
“All right then,” Yuri said. “When we arrive at this sensor station, we stay quiet and hope the Salvation of Life flies straight into the wormhole that goes back to the enclave.”
* * *
—
The Salvation of Life emerged from the wormhole terminus into real space five weeks and one day after leaving the Sol star system. Finally, Alik had something to see. He hadn’t told the others, not even Kandara, but the anti-existence of the wormhole had started to get to him. Not claustrophobia exactly, but a sense of being nowhere, the ultimate lost child. After all he’d seen in his time with the FBI, after all he’d been through—the horrors and deaths—this was what got to him? Literally a nothing? Life really could be a complete bastard sometimes.
But now there was something real to see outside again. Over the last two days Jessika had walked the remote creature along the precarious edge of the hangar entrance, the top of a cliff with a fall to infinity, emplacing minute sensor clumps before withdrawing it back into the Avenging Heretic. The clumps revealed an ordinary-looking starscape surrounding them, a heliocentric panorama anchored by a red dwarf star. Alik was so deeply immersed in the visualization he was sure he could feel its radiance on his cheeks. He was no expert on constellations, but it didn’t look too alien.
“Star correlation places us approximately a hundred and seven light-years from Sol.”
“Soćko got lucky,” Callum said. “He must have just escaped the wormhole in time. Any longer and the ship would have fallen out of the wormhole here.”
The visualization showed them they were leaving a vast open hoop behind. Its silver-white surface had a violet aurora that was fading rapidly. Alik guessed that was the wormhole terminus.
“Salvation is accelerating,” Jessika said. “Here we go.”
“Accelerating where?” Callum asked.
“Another wormhole terminus,” Jessika said. “It’s dominating the onemind’s thoughts. Its only goal now is to return to the enclave star system.”
“What about us?” Kandara asked. “Is it going to take the transport ships with it?”
“I think so. It certainly isn’t ordering any ships to disembark here.”
The visualization was expanding as the Salvation of Life rotated slowly, allowing the sensor clumps to gather a full three-hundred-sixty-degree image. The terminus hoop was in an orbit seventy million kilometers out from the surface of the red dwarf. The sensors were showing several other objects sharing the orbit, all of them massive.
Given the minute size of the sensor clusters and the extreme distances, resolution was sub-optimal. But it still revealed that the majority of the closest objects were pentagonal dodecahedrons, with each flat surface measuring two thousand kilometers across.
“They have to be radio telescopes,” Callum said. “This is an Olyix sensor station, after all, so I can’t see what else they could be. Bloody hell, the scale of them! No wonder they picked up Earth’s radio broadcasts.”
“This is where we’re heading,” Jessika said.
The visualization refocused. Looking along their vector wasn’t a good angle, with the arkship’s rocky surface becoming a Mars-red crescent filling three quarters of the image. Three million kilometers ahead of them was a nest of seven broad hoops, with the outermost an easy two hundred kilometers in diameter. Inside it, the other hoops were progressively smaller, with the innermost a mere thirty kilometers wide. They were all aligned at an angle to one another, with the central one finishing at ninety degrees to the first. The surface of each seemed to be a shiny purple chrome, without any visible markings. Thermally, they were a steady twenty-seven degrees Celsius.
“What do you think?” Yuri asked. “An Olyix habitat?”
“Most likely,” Jessika said. “There are several wormhole terminus hoops close to it. We’re heading for the nearest.”
“No space traffic visible,” Kandara said. “This place is like a ghost star.”
“I haven’t seen any planets, either,” Jessika said. “In fact, the ecliptic plane is remarkably clear of any solid matter; no asteroids, comets…They cleared it all out.”
“Hellfire,” Callum exclaimed. “I was wondering how they powered their wormholes, given the energy they require to stay open is huge. Take a look at that star’s equator.”
Alik waited while the visualization refocused again, following everyone’s whim. He’d said nothing about all the wonders of this alien star, because frankly it was way outside his comfort zone. The nesting ring thing was so much bigger than the habitats humans built—if that was what it actually was—and the radio telescopes were the size of fucking moons. He’d always known this flight was a long shot, but they were now getting seriously out of their depth—and still sinking. Reluctantly he looked at the gleaming red disk that was the small star. The equator was clearly visible, marked by a slim dark band. Magnification expanded until it became blurred.
“Is that solid?” Yuri asked incredulously.
“Seems to be,” Callum said. “It’s rotating faster than the star, but it’s on the top of the chromosphere.”
“The star’s got a radius approximately a third of Sol,” Jessika said. “Which gives a circumference of…Shit! One point three million kilometers.”
“They built a ring of solid matter one point three million klicks?” Yuri said. “What the hell from?”
“Out of something tough enough to sit in a star,” Callum added wickedly. “And function as a generator. My God, if that’s what they’ve built to power wormholes, what do they need to power something that slows down time inside the enclave? How big? What does it do, eat stars whole?”
Kandara chuckled. “Ever get the feeling you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?”
“Not Goddamn funny!” Alik told her.
“Relax. We’re not here to go mano a mano with these fuckers. We’re a bacterium on an elephant. Utterly insignificant. But if a bacterium gets into its bloodstream…”
Alik closed his eyes and exhaled as he slumped back into the seat. He knew the gesture wasn’t real, yet it still helped calm him. “I think reality is finally biting me on the ass.”
“Lucky you,” Callum said. “Me? I’m still in complete denial about all of this. Yuri?”
“I wish cloning was not illegal. I would grow one and send him instead. Maybe I should have done that anyway.”
“Good call.”
“You guys are wusses,” Kandara said. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
“Yeah, but you’re—” Alik closed his mouth.
“Pure psycho? Face it, there’s only me and Jessika functioning normally here. And she’s—” She made a mock gasp of horror and put her hand over her mouth.
“Wasn’t born human,” Jessika goaded.
“We must be one of the biggest concentrations of fuck-ups in history.”
“Hope never dies,” Callum said solemnly. “But it sure as hell gets overlooked a lot.”
“Stuff that guru shit,” Alik sneered. “I never said I was giving up hope. I’m a practical guy. We just carry on and get the job done.”
“Very profound,” Kandara said.
“I’ve got the Salvation of Life’s course vector,” Jessika said. “We’re on track to fly into the wormhole terminus next to the habitation rings—the biggest one there is. Twenty klicks across. You could fit two arkships in that side by side easy.”
“How long?” Yuri asked.
“Eighteen hours.”
* * *
—
They spent the rest of the time on the tiresome bridge. Alik started to think about livening it up a little, maybe make it a bit more luxurious like some of the penthouses he’d visited. And how come there was only this? You were either on the bridge or oblivious in the tank. They hadn’t even simulated the utilitarian compartments on the real Avenging Heretic.
Several times during the hours that crawled by, Deliverance ships soared around the Salvation of Life in long curves like eagles guarding their nest.
“Why?” Yuri asked a
fter the eighth one performed a graceful spin as it looped around the arkship. “This is their star system. There can’t be any threat here. What are they looking for?”
Jessika frowned. “I think it’s some kind of ritual. They’re celebrating a successful mission. Or a returning mission; I’m not quite sure which. There’s emotional content in the onemind’s thoughts that I’ve not experienced before.”
Callum grinned. “Dance like nobody’s watching.”
“A happy Olyix!” Alik murmured. “The universe is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine.”
“Mary save me!” Kandara declared. “I’m locked up in a ship full of philosophers.”
“The Olyix can’t always have been miserable fascist bastards,” Yuri said. “Something changed them.”
“The God at the End of Time happened,” Kandara said. “Simple.”
“And none of them ever questioned it?” Callum said. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Some of them did,” Kandara said. “Once. That’s why they’re not around anymore.”
“I wonder,” Yuri said. “If Olyix mainstream culture is fascistic, allowing no dissenters, there must be a resistance, a group of non-believers.”
“Unlikely now,” Jessika said. “Individual Olyix don’t die; they just incorporate a new body into their quint whenever an old one starts to fail. They’re not born anymore. They’ve become a truly artificial species. Any of their number who don’t conform were probably eliminated millennia ago like Kandara said. The Olyix transformed themselves into a monoculture. There is no opportunity for change now.”
Kandara sat up abruptly. In the relative calm of the bridge it was almost startling, a real show of emotion. “Unless…” She stared intently at Jessika.
“Yeah?” Alik pressed, interested by her reaction.
“The unbelievers saw what was happening and made a run for it before the Olyix version of the Night of the Long Knives. Now they’re hiding among the stars, doing what they can to warn other species without getting caught themselves.”
The Saints of Salvation Page 19
