Bringer of Light

by Jaine Fenn

  He’d checked the bridge and was halfway through the rec-room when his com beeped – not an incoming call, but an alarm: his sensors had picked up something anomalous. He raced back up the ladder, but when he checked the console, he could at first see nothing obvious. He wound back the log, getting it to project a composite image into the holocube, but it took him a moment to work out what he was seeing. It looked like one of the ships lurking at the edge of the exclusion zone, on the far side of the hab, was on the move. It appeared to be heading this way.

  He commed Ain. ‘Listen, are the hab’s external sensors up and running?’

  ‘They have not been a priority,’ she started. ‘This lingua has been trying to fix the external com system in order to request your companions’ remains. Allow me to check now . . . Aye-okay, the system has reset, so passive detection is functioning.’

  ‘Then would you mind checking what’s going on at—’ Jarek paused, unsure whether his coordinate system would mean anything to the Alephan; finally he settled on, ‘—just inside the exclusion zone on the far side of the hab from my ship.’

  ‘Wait a moment, please . . .’

  Jarek wasn’t sure how long she considered a moment to be, but it felt like at least a minute had passed before he called, ‘Ain?’ unable to stand the wait any longer, ‘Ain, is there a problem?’

  Her voice was very small when she finally replied, ‘Aye. There certainly is.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Someone was shouting at him. Fuck’s sakes, why couldn’t they just let him sleep? Who was it anyway? Didn’t sound like Nual . . .

  Suddenly he remembered the last thing that’d happened. Dazed and panicky, he recalled seeing darkness beyond the airlock instead of the Heart of Glass, then the darkness stung his head—

  —and now someone was making this awful racket . . . He opened his eyes to find himself in a bright, white room, lying on a squishy floor. The only obvious feature was a line of close-set grey bars across the centre of the room. Someone was prowling and gesturing on the far side of the bars, talking double-speed: ‘Come on, come on, wake up! Are you dead? You’re not dead, are you? Hello? Hello? I can see you moving!’

  Ah, so that was who was making all the noise.

  Taro sighed. ‘Shit and blood, Vy,’ he croaked, ‘just pack it in, will you? No, I ain’t dead. And I ain’t deaf either.’

  Merciful silence. Then Vy said in a voice of hungry confusion, ‘Vy? You say . . . Vy. I’m Vy, yes?’

  ‘Yes, you’re Vy. And I’m Taro. And we’re in the shit. Now shut the fuck up and let me think.’ Taro levered himself to a sitting position as Vy stopped pacing and sat down, then began to grizzle like a baby.

  Taro tried his com. No signal. Well, there’s a surprise. He looked around. The room was the size of a large hotel room, with no visible exits or windows. Vy was in a cage that filled half the room; there was a bed, a table and what had to be a crapper in with him. Taro wondered why he didn’t have his own cage. And where the hell were the others?

  Maybe Nual and Jarek were in the next room? He tried to empty his mind and contact Nual, but he couldn’t feel anything. He’d try again later, ideally when Vy was asleep and he could concentrate properly.

  Ah yes, Vy.

  Taro guessed that whatever had knocked him out had got Vy too, and being unconscious had fucked the boy up, just like he’d said it would. It looked like the lingua had tricked them, though he was surprised; he’d have expected Nual to spot if she’d been lying to them. Had Ain been working for someone, but somehow managed to hide it? But who – and how?

  Vy’s grizzling was getting louder, building into a hopeless keen. ‘Vy!’ shouted Taro, and when the avatar shut up, added, ‘I’m gonna regret asking this, but what can you remember?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Vy’s answer was a forlorn howl.

  ‘That ain’t helpful, and it ain’t true, ’cos you can obviously remember some stuff: you know I’m a friend, and you can remember how to speak. Right?’

  Vy stopped looking completely forsaken and looked at Taro.

  ‘Good. Now, what happened before you got put to sleep?’

  ‘I—’ Vy screwed up his face in concentration. ‘I followed you. Then there was darkness, and it hurt.’

  ‘That’s right, and it’s good that you remember. So when you woke up, was everything just like it is now?’

  ‘No. You were lying down and you had your eyes closed. I thought you were dead.’

  ‘But everything else was—’

  ‘Taro sanMalia!’ he shouted.

  Taro jumped. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s your name.’

  ‘Yeah, it is, but—’

  ‘I remembered!’ Vy sounded massively relieved.

  ‘That’s pure blade, Vy. I bet everything else’ll come back if you give it a chance.’ Hopefully.

  ‘Were there others? Someone else, with us?’

  ‘There were,’ said Taro slowly. ‘Have you seen them since we got knocked out?’

  ‘No, no. I— What’re their names?’

  ‘Nual and Jarek.’

  Vy mouthed the names to himself, then whispered, ‘I don’t know what I’ve lost. Everything slips away. Yes, slips away . . . I mustn’t let it. Mustn’t, mustn’t—’

  ‘No,’ said Taro, ‘you mustn’t. You gotta stay focused. I’ll help you—’

  ‘Not enough.’ Vy held up his hands and looked at them like he was seeing them for the first time. ‘Need to hold it together until . . . until—’

  ‘Until what, Vy? Until what?’

  ‘Can’t say!’

  ‘Can’t, or won’t?’ Taro was wary of tipping Vy further over the edge, but he needed to know what was really going on.

  Vy stepped back from the bars, looking miserable.

  Taro got to his feet – he was still woozy, but everything appeared to be in working order – and walked over to the bars. ‘C’mon, Vy, please. We’re in enough trouble as it is. If there’s something you know and I don’t, you really need to be telling me.’

  Sulkily: ‘Said I can’t.’

  ‘Please?’

  ‘Really can’t. Not—’

  ‘This is a gun.’

  Taro spun round. A figure stood on the far side of the room in a doorway that hadn’t been there a few moments ago. It was a man, well, sort of – it looked like someone who’d been filed down to the skin, no hair, no nails, or whatever, then painted gold. It wasn’t wearing any clothes, but it didn’t have anything to hide. It was holding a spiky little white thing that might well be a gun. ‘Kindly do not misbehave,’ it said, ‘or I will use the weapon.’ Its voice was almost toneless, with less of a weird accent than Ain had.

  ‘Haven’t got any plans to misbehave,’ said Taro as evenly as he could.

  ‘Good. I would like to speak with you.’

  ‘Speak away, friend.’

  ‘Only you.’

  ‘Not sure I—’

  ‘I wish to speak to you alone.’ The voice held a faint hint of impatience. The figure gestured dismissingly at the cage. ‘Without that.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ said Taro. You’re the one with the weapon. ‘Your place or mine?’

  ‘You will come with me.’

  ‘Yours, then.’

  Taro spared a glance for Vy. The avatar’s face was twisted into an expression Taro found hard to read through the bars. Horror? Hatred? Taro murmured, ‘Don’t worry, Vy. I’ll be back.’

  The figure (another avatar?) stepped aside to let Taro leave the room, keeping a safe distance. Not that he was going to try anything yet: he wanted to know what was going down before making any sort of move.

  They walked into another white room, slightly bigger, and with a non-squishy floor. As well as the door they’d come through, the room had two open doorways, on opposite walls. The golden figure gestured at the remaining wall. ‘You may sit there,’ it said.

  Taro made out a thin line of shadow on the white surface. As he walked closer, he real
ised it was a cube, jutting out of the wall, made of the same white stuff as the room. Don’t think much of your decorator, he thought as he sat down. Like the bit of floor he’d awakened on, the seat was soft. He noticed that the entrance to his room had disappeared again.

  The golden man stood to one side, still holding the gun. He waited until Taro was seated, then said, ‘It is important that we are friends.’

  Taro bit back his instinctive retort – Like fuck, you shiny gold arsehole – and said carefully, ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘Good. I imagine you have questions.’

  ‘Just a few.’

  ‘Please, ask away.’

  Where to start? With the obvious one. ‘Where are my other two friends?’

  ‘Other?’ asked the figure, almost echoing Vy’s earlier question, then, ‘I assume you are referring to Captain Reen and the Sidhe Nual?’

  ‘Yeah, them.’ ’Cos if you’ve harmed Nual I’ll peel off your pretty gold skin and shove it down your ugly black throat.

  ‘They are, as far as we are aware, alive and well.’

  Even as he felt himself relax a fraction Taro noted the we. ‘They’re not here, then?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Are they still at the hab?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘And where exactly is here?’

  ‘Although you may ask any question you wish, some will not be answered at this time.’

  Oh yeah, definitely an avatar with an attitude like that. ‘I’ll try another one then: where’s Ain?’

  ‘We do not know to whom you refer.’

  ‘The lingua. The one on the hab.’ Who sold us out to you, apparently . . .

  ‘She is also still there, as far as we know.’

  ‘Is she working for you?’

  ‘No. She is lingua, and is loyal only to the Consensus. Your confusion arises from a logical but incorrect assumption. The individual who took you from the hab was not lingua. It was a custom-made simulacrum.’

  ‘You mean another avatar, like you?’

  ‘That is correct.’ The avatar sounded pleased that Taro had worked it out.

  ‘And whose avatar are you, then?’ Taro wasn’t sure if that was the right way to put it, but he reckoned the avatar would correct him if not.

  It replied with a question of its own. ‘Would you find it easier to use only the singular first pronoun along with a name in our dealings to give the impression that you are addressing a wholly independent entity rather than a semi-autonomous agent?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Taro, who wasn’t.

  ‘That is acceptable. In that case, I can be referred to as Device.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Device,’ Taro lied. He decided not to bother introducing himself. He guessed they already knew who he was. ‘So whose . . . who d’you represent?’

  ‘My patron is known as the Gatekeeper. The shiftspace beacon you arrived at lies in his domain.’

  ‘Were those coves in the lightship his people, then?’

  ‘I think you misunderstand how closely settled even the out-system portion of Aleph is. The Gatekeeper’s domain is not large; by the time your ship encountered the lightship, you had moved into neutral space.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Of course, in some ways the Gatekeeper has access to the largest domain of all, for he is keeper of the beacon. Although he has no populace of his own he takes a great interest in human-space. He designed the hab you and your companions were housed in.’

  Which explained why the place looked like a lifestyle beevee made by an exec with a shitload of credit and no sense of style. ‘Is that unusual, him being into human-space?’

  ‘Indeed it is. It has resulted in the Gatekeeper being held in low esteem by some of the other patrons – at least until your arrival. Now the knowledge he has gained from human-space is proving invaluable!’

  ‘There’s a lot of factions here, ain’t there?’

  ‘There are many septs, with many alliances within and between them. However you should not let such things concern you. I will keep you safe and comfortable.’

  Taro didn’t point out that being snatched from his lover and his friend and put in a white box with a loony avatar wasn’t his idea of safe or comfortable. Instead he made himself smile and say, ‘That’s good to know.’ Device seemed to be buying it, so Taro decided to risk asking, ‘How about Vy? He ain’t doing too well.’

  ‘No, it would not be. I will be observing its disintegration with interest.’ The avatar sounded almost eager.

  ‘You’re not going to help him? He’s really suffering in there.’

  ‘Indeed it is, although it is more tenacious than I expected.’

  Taro felt his anger rising; Vy wasn’t an ‘it’, Vy was a thinking being, a lot like Device himself! But he couldn’t afford to piss off his captor, so instead he changed the subject. ‘Won’t the Gatekeeper get into trouble with the other patrons for kidnapping me and Vy?’

  ‘That is a perceptive question, but the answer is no; removal of Khesh’s avatar was sanctioned by the Consensus. Your presence is an unexpected bonus.’

  Not as far as Taro was concerned, it wasn’t. ‘You’re saying the males planned to kidnap Vy all along?’

  ‘That is correct. Normally, creating fully sentient simulacrum of lingua is prohibited, with punishments commensurate with those for mounting weapons on a ship or invading another’s domain, but the Gatekeeper was given permission by the Consensus.’

  ‘Why go to all that trouble? What did you want Vy for?’

  ‘Those are also questions I am not going to answer.’

  Taro clenched his fists, fighting the urge to rip the smug fucker apart. He had to stay calm and find out all he could.

  The avatar continued, ‘For the moment we must be careful, but when things are calmer I will provide somewhere much more spacious and interesting for you. I saw you fly in the hab – we were not aware that humans had access to that technology. I will make sure you have space to fly. Also, I will make you a simulacrum of Captain Reen. It may lack certain mental capabilities, but I can reproduce his physical details – I could enhance any, if you would like me to.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Taro, horribly afraid he did.

  ‘Taking Khesh’s avatar was planned in advance. The Consensus’ command was that it be removed from the hab and that the remaining visitors be convinced that it had died. As you can see, I have not killed it. That would be a waste: it will be far more interesting to observe its disintegration now it is cut off from its patron. It is a process rarely witnessed, and I intend to record and analyse every stage.’

  ‘And where do I fit in?’ Taro flashed on the idea of himself as next in the cage after poor Vy had died.

  ‘You were not part of the original plan, but you insisted on keeping company with the avatar, making its removal far more complicated. In a situation like that many patrons would just have killed you; you are hardly essential, whatever emotional strength you may lend to your captain. Fortunately for you, the Gatekeeper saw your value.’

  ‘My value? As what?’

  ‘As a source of information! The Gatekeeper is fascinated by human-space, but has had to exist on the few titbits that are beeveed in via our beacon. Yet here you are, a living being from mainstream human culture. You know so much of interest! The Gatekeeper looks forward to discussing your life and experiences in great detail.’

  ‘So he’s just going to keep me in a box for the rest of my life? Ain’t he worried my friends’ll try and find me?’

  ‘Oh no. As far as your friends are concerned, you died when the avatar did. Bodies will be provided, sympathies expressed, et cetera. But do not worry, you will not be imprisoned in a box. Your living area will be spacious and luxurious, and you will even be able to explore some of the Gatekeeper’s domain, provided you behave yourself. You will want for nothing. Your life will be long, safe and happy.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Unseen hands l
ifted Ifanna to her feet. She did not resist. She noticed in passing that the other side of the rocky chamber was dark again. She had a brief glimpse of Hylwen’s shocked expression as the monitors led the two of them from the room.

  Ifanna was shoved into another room, this one bare of any amenities, and the door was locked behind her. She felt disconnected, as light as an empty vessel. She held on to the one, impossible, truth: she was not to die – nor was she to endure the lesser fate that Hylwen had spoken of; instead, she was to be freed. This was totally unexpected – but the Cariad had not acted as anyone expected. Of course, she was a goddess and she could do as she wished, but Ifanna could not shake the feeling that her ruling had amazed everyone.

  As time passed she realised what the sensation of lightness was. It was hope.

  The door opened, and two monitors returned. She did not want to be bound and gagged again, but she knew better than to resist; at least they left the blindfold off, and only tied her hands. They took her out to Hylwen, who walked next to her, and they were surrounded by a cordon of monitors, with a priest at their head.

  The escort led them out of the Tyr, but this time, instead of the stern reverence she’d sensed on the way to the audience with the Cariad, the guards’ chilly demeanour hid a deep unease. And Hylwen was afraid, despite their reprieve. Ifanna tried to get her attention, and after a while Hylwen looked over at her.

  Ifanna spoke silently,

 

 

 

  Ifanna did not answer at once, for she had been trying to avoid that very conclusion. Surely she should have felt the goddess look into her heart? Yet she had sensed nothing. A foolish question perhaps, but the alternative was unthinkable.