by Simon Kewin
“The data fleck he gave me when we parted.” Her father had handed it to her as she climbed into the lander, told her to take it to Ondo. Confused, she'd asked him what it was, but he hadn't been able to explain. He'd wanted to, a jumble of thoughts forming in his mind, but there hadn't been time.
Ondo held up the tiny rectangle of glass in a pair of electronically-controlled micropincers. “We were incredibly lucky it wasn't destroyed or lost. You dropped it, of course, but I found it wedged within the wreckage. I search everything in the minutest detail before I allow it near the Refuge, in case Concordance attempt to infiltrate my defences with some tracking device.”
“Was there anything about me on there?” She imagined fond farewell letters, fatherly advice to take with her on her travels.
“It contained only his notes and the data he'd captured from the site, sorry.”
“And what did he find?”
“I'm still working on it; there are some flecks he couldn't decrypt but which I may be able to. There are some logs from the crew of the Magellanic Cloud that I've never seen before, including some fascinating entries from the ship's astrophysicist, planetologist and xenobiologist. There's nothing concrete, yet, but they all hint at the discovery of something truly remarkable.”
“What?”
“It's best I don't speculate until I have more evidence.”
“But you must have a best guess. Or what have you been doing all this time?”
Ondo considered for a moment, staring into space as if considering his long years of research and thought.
“You remember we talked about lies. What I've learned is that there are much, much bigger ones.”
“Like suppressing the idea that there was ever a golden age.”
“I think that's a part of it.”
“You're talking about Omn? You think the Magellanic Cloud did encounter a divine entity?”
Ondo looked puzzled for a moment, then waved the point away. “No, no, I'm not suggesting they found an omnipotent being wishing to act through them to control the galaxy. But to say that misses the whole point. I believe Vulpis went from a mere crew-member on board the Magellanic Cloud to founding Concordance because he encountered something that fundamentally altered the nature of galactic civilisation. All the rest, the story about Omn, is just misdirection, a useful lie. The Cathedral ships, the huge destructive power they wield, the Void Walkers, the Augurs, all of it. It's a lie so big that many can't see it; they think it's simply how the universe works. Maybe Vulpis and his followers genuinely believed they'd encountered a god, or they convinced themselves of that. Maybe it was a cynical calculation: a narrative they used to cover their military domination of galactic affairs.”
His words would have earned him a death sentence on just about any world. His openness at speaking them appalled and excited her in equal measure. “If all that's a lie, what is the truth?”
Ondo looked amused at the question. “Ah. I wish I knew. And that's the problem isn't it? When the truth is missing, it's easy for lies to fill the void. People need certainties. I think Concordance rely on that. I think that's probably the main reason each system has its Cathedral ship in orbit. Not to quell unrest or to destroy attempts at reinventing metaspace tech, but to ensure the correct version of history is heard.”
“Tell me the little you do know.” He'd given her hints and scraps but never the full picture he saw in his mind.
“I know that Concordance didn't exist three hundred years ago. The Magellanic Cloud had on board only a few believers in the cult of Omn. It was a minor religious sect, an odd little curiosity, unknown in most of the galaxy. Vulpis was, obviously, their leader, but on the ship, he was a chemist, not even particularly high-ranking. The ship was a scientific exploration vessel, investigating unknown star systems in the galaxy's central mass. I know the Omnian War did take place, although, as I have said, I believe it was also a war to suppress the truth and not simply the means by which Concordance imposed control on the supposed chaos.
“The faction opposed to Vulpis – the normal crew of the ship, I think – took the Magellanic Cloud, intending to inform galactic civilisation of what had been found. Vulpis, somehow, fought them and stopped them. I have discovered several references in various datastores to someone or something that translates as Morn or The Morn, but whether that's a place, or a previously-unknown culture, or weapontech, I don't know. It appears to be something fearful, calamitous, and perhaps that is what allowed Vulpis to establish his galaxy-wide theocratic order.”
“Or Vulpis encountered a civilization that used him to seize control of the galaxy. If there was a previously-isolated culture that suddenly learned the location of all these other worlds, and they had some sufficiently advanced technology at their disposal, they could have risen rapidly to dominance. Perhaps that's what Concordance is. A front for that.”
“Perhaps.”
“Omn, Morn. Maybe they're the same thing. The words are close.”
“It's possible. Vulpis and his followers brought the word Omn with them, of course, the name of their god, and perhaps they – or someone – simply imposed it upon this Morn, appropriating an older word to aggrandize their own. It's a familiar pattern. Simply stating the two are the same thing, or aspects of the same thing, allowed Vulpis to bolster the importance of his sect, while also giving him licence to use his discovery to the supposed glory of Omn.”
“Or giving the culture they encountered a story to justify what they went on to do.”
“That's what we need to find out.”
“What specifically have you learned from my father's investigations?”
“Corroboration of everything I've said – but also the knowledge that there is another uncharted crash site on Maes Far. I've been able to decrypt records that he was unable to read by cross-referencing with other fragments. The evidence is clear: there was a battle in orbit, and a second ship was hit. Crippled, it veered into the planet's atmosphere and parts of it crashed into the southern polar cap. It's another trail to follow. It may lead to nothing, as most of them do – or it may reveal some vital clue about what really happened three hundred years ago.”
“Concordance haven't destroyed it?”
“I don't believe they know about it.”
The Maes Far southern polar cap was essentially uninhabited, little more than a barren ice-sheet. “You've been there?”
“Once I'm sure all interest in the planet has died down, I'll go and see what I can find. Another piece of the puzzle, or another dead end. There may well be nothing left of the second crashed starship. Perhaps I'll find nothing more than a thin deposit layer of debris in the ice record, microfragments of vaporised graphene and polymer nanotube. It wouldn't be the first time.”
“What if you die? What if the Void Walkers find you?”
“It's unlikely; the Cathedral ship has left the system, reassigned to some other inhabited world.”
“There are still a million ways to get yourself killed on a shattered planet suffering that scale of environmental destruction.”
“If I die, then the Refuge and everything within it is yours, Selene.”
That threw her. She wasn't at all sure she wanted such a gift. It sounded a lot like a burden. “Why would it be mine?”
“Because there is no one else.”
“And if I don't want it? Don't want any of this life of yours?”
“Then take another vessel and leave, by all means. There is no duty imposed on you; I saved your life so you could live it as you wished. I've been making sure there is another craft prepped and ready to use: the Aether Dragon. Not as advanced as the Radiant, but serviceable. All I ask is that you keep the records I've uncovered a secret; tell no one about the Refuge unless you encounter a person you can trust the information with.”
The anger that had kindled within her ebbed away. “There are others like you? Pockets of rebels all over the galaxy waiting to answer the call and take the fight to Concordance?”
T
he question seemed to amuse Ondo. “Precious few. There are many people harbouring resentments, no doubt, but there is no organized rebellion. No disorganized one either, come to that. Concordance does a fine job of keeping us segregated. How could an insurgency begin without a functioning comms network? There are a few freebooters who eke out a living fleeing from Concordance here and there, individuals who would kill to have the Refuge as a base. Most would gladly sell the data flecks in the Vault to the highest bidder. And of course, if Concordance knew where we were, they would come and obliterate us immediately. But perhaps there is someone, somewhere who might continue what I've started. That is my hope. Have you come any closer to deciding which planet you would like to live your life on?”
She'd tried; she'd spent hours flicking through planetary profiles but hadn't found anywhere that looked to her like home. Still, she was looking; at some point she'd decided to carry on living after all. “I'm thinking about it. When will you go to Maes Far?”
“I'll prep for planetary incursion once I've finished work on your skin, and once I can get the Aether Dragon fully active. As I say, it's not as powerful as the Radiant, but it will get you where you need to go. Perhaps three months?”
Three months. She had that time to decide what person she would be for the rest of her life. Her name, her identity, her homeworld, who she would be and what she would do. It would be a fresh start, a chance to move on. Yes. And after she'd left, she would never see Ondo Lagan and his Refuge again.
5. Primo
Secundus Godel paused outside the ornate doors that led to the audience chamber of Primo Carious.
She'd had no choice but to comply with his summons to the God Star. Primo Carious spoke with the voice of Omn, and that was not to be questioned or denied. If the Primo instructed her to travel half the width of the galaxy in order for him to relay some new command to her, she could only meekly comply.
For now.
She calmed her thoughts, made sure a neutral expression showed upon on her face, then knocked. The Primo made her wait for ten, twenty seconds before summoning her inside. It was part of the game he played. She refused to show any irritation.
He sat in his golden throne at the far end of the chamber, reading something from a black book held in one of his heavily-jewelled hands. This was the sanctum sanctorum from which he directed all the affairs of the galaxy, handing down and interpreting the commandments relayed to him by Omn. Sitting in that chair, everything was his to control.
Two Void Walkers stood unmoving beside him, grey-robed, shaven-headed, their attention clearly focused upon her. It was a clear warning. All of it – the wait at the door, the shining splendour of the room, the fixed stares of the Walkers – it was all a message. Behind them, the turquoise-green planet that they orbited filled the scene through the transparent wall, the limb of the world framing the Primo. Distantly, Godel could see that lights sparkled upon the surface. Reflections from the suns, perhaps.
She crossed the room, taking thirty paces to reach him, emphasising the hard sound of each footstep upon the stone floor, imagining each clack was the crack of a blaster-shot. When she reached the throne, she knelt in the prescribed manner. There she waited, head bowed, trying to ignore the mounting pains in her knees.
“Ah, Godel,” Carious said at last, his words a sign that she might rise and look upon him. He tore his attention from the book, as if what was written there was infinitely more interesting than she was. “Your journey through the void passed off without incident?”
He was, she noted, and not for the first time, an unimpressive figure. He could have been a barkeeper on any backwater world if Omn hadn't chosen him to be the figurehead and Primo of Concordance. He was portrayed to the galaxy as a glorious figure, made of light, but all she could see was the pattern of blotches on the backs of his hands, the sagging flesh of his chin.
“By the grace of Omn, I remain whole and complete,” she said. “My soul still glows within me.”
“Excellent; how fortunate we are to bask in his protection. And how is the work on the sacred tally progressing?”
It was a barbed question; a verbal stab. Something they fundamentally disagreed on. She let the blow glance off her. “It remains a fascinating area of theological research.”
“And one you are pursuing very actively, I hear.”
“As an intellectual pursuit.”
“Ah, of course. And tell me, how close to the seventeen sevens are we now?”
“We … are still counting. Was this what you summoned me to discuss, my lord?”
“It is a different matter. I'm told that you believe it is time for another shroud to be deployed,” he said.
“I continue the work of Omn.”
“And yet, we still have a survivor from the last one to deal with. This Selene Ada. Do we know anything about her?”
“She is just a woman. She is unimportant.”
“Nevertheless, her survival is a situation that cannot be allowed to continue. The galaxy must see that our control is absolute. Omnipotence does not allow for exceptions.”
“It is very likely that she is dead,” said Godel. “Her ship was struck as it attempted to escape Maes Far.”
“And yet I hear rumours that she was rescued by the renegade, Ondo Lagan. That she still lives. Are our enemies so organized that they can defy us so easily?”
“In all likelihood, these are lies broadcast by Lagan to humiliate us.”
“But you do not know this for sure?” said the Primo. “You cannot prove to me that she is dead.”
Godel wanted to object that Omn knew the truth, and that Carious could surely find out from him, but she held her tongue. The Primo was testing her. Or was Omn testing her? Omn had to know the whereabouts of Lagan, too, but had so far refused to reveal it.
“We will know soon,” she said. “We will capture Lagan and learn the truth.”
“I have your word on that? Or should I consider which other amongst the First Augurs would be a better Secundus?”
“I will find Lagan and uncover the truth of this girl. I have it in hand.”
Carious considered her for a moment, scrutinizing her, then nodded his head. “Very good. Do so. Then, when that is resolved, we can think about the next shroud. But only then.”
She could only assent to his direct order. “Yes, Primo.”
“You may return to your work, Secundus Godel.” He emphasised her title very slightly as he dismissed her.
Godel spoke no more and began to back away from him, head bowed in submission.
As she went, she ran through a familiar set of thoughts in her mind. Did he truly give voice to the desires of Omn? He would say he was merely the channel, the conduit, of course, but who would know the truth of it? He had the divine machines that he used to receive Omn's instructions, machines only he had the right to use, but what if he simply relayed to the galaxy the words that he, Carious, wished to speak? And what was written in the books and records that only he was allowed to read?
There were others ways of communicating with Omn. The whispers in her head had troubled her, at first; she thought she was suffering some malady of the mind, or that her many journeys through the void were finally taking their toll. Now, she understood what they really were: the voice of Omn, telling her what it was that he wanted her to do, his instructions unfiltered by the intercession of Primo Carious. Whispers of his true design. Concordance had left the path, and it was up to her to set it right again.
It had also troubled her to act without the approval of the Primo. But Omn knew everything, and if Omn chose not to tell the Primo all that she had done, then that was simply proof she was in the right.
She would bide her time, follow the way shown to her, and one day, when the great scheme unfolded, it would be her sitting on the throne, and not him. Primo Godel would rule the galaxy. Under the direction of Omn.
She stepped out through the doors, closed them behind her and only then allowed herself a smile.
>
6. Leavings
Selene's twenty-third and final death came a week after her decision to leave the Refuge.
The sharp pains tearing at her tissues, subsiding for a time, returned with fresh cruelty one night, sending her writhing and whimpering upon her mattress, the sheets knotting themselves around her burning limbs. She refused to call Ondo to beg for pain relief or sympathy. Eventually she found sleep, unconsciousness at least, but instead of release she fell into confused fever-dreams that left her sweating and panting, unclear about what was real and what was in her head.
She lay on a bed of bones, their shattered fragments digging into her flesh. She was back on Maes Far, the version of it she'd glimpsed from Ondo's captured images, a world of dust and grey-brown ruin. A black sun shone overhead, sucking in the light rather than giving it out.
She wandered the shattered streets of her home. A short distance away, a man knelt in the dust, digging desperately with his bare hands. As fast as he could pull the dirt away, it fell back into the hole. His eyes were wide with horror as he glanced up at her.
“Help me,” her father said. “Help me dig.”
They worked together, burrowing, until she saw the glint of something metallic in the ground. With a gasp of triumph, her father reached in to grab it: the fleck he'd given her as she entered the lander. He handed it to her, enclosing his fist about hers. His voice was pleading, full of sorrow. “Take this. You must take this.”
Then, somehow, her father was gone, and she was scraping away at the ash and soil alone. She found the rest of them there: her mother, her family, Falden, all the others she'd known, buried beneath the weight of the soil. Their eyes were open and they scrabbled at her, clutching her ankles and wrists, pleading for release, begging her to save them.
Selene, filled with horror, kicked herself free, tearing the iron grasp of her mother from her arm, falling backwards to the ground where more hands clutched at her, tried to pull her down beneath the surface.
She screamed a muffled scream, struggling to rise. The hands held her down. When she opened her eyes, they were Ondo's, standing over her in the operating theatre, pinning her to the bed by her shoulders while she fought him. His mouth moved, but she couldn't hear his words over the thundering in her ears. He seemed uncomfortably near to her face and at the same time very distant, glimpsed through the wrong end of a telescope. The light from the machines gleamed in his eyes, and she knew he was trying to kill her. Nausea twisted through her. She was burning up; he had done something to her metabolism, amped it up until her organs gave out.
