Gods and the Stars (Gods and the Starways Book 2)

by Steve Statham

  The space above the dome continued its writhing dance.

  ****

  Once the immediate chaos of the plunge into Divine Space subsided, Talia realized, with a shock, that she was unable to judge the passage of time. How long had it been since they’d slipped out of the comforting reality of normal space-time? Days? Weeks?

  The chronometers that were tied into every control system under the dome all gave contrary readings. The impression was as if time was expanding and contracting, and not at the same rate across the moon they called home.

  And if she couldn’t assess how long Skyra had been hurtling through Divine Space, riding the immense currents of gravity that dragged entire clusters of galaxies across the cosmos, then certainly everyone else in The City was equally confused.

  No, she decided. That’s not right. They don’t all rely on chronometers to mark time. They aren’t plugged into a complex network that strips more of their humanity with every passing day. They’ll know how many times they’ve filled their bellies since Apollo threw us all into the void.

  Talia disconnected herself from the internal timekeeping systems and switched to monitoring the public commissaries and cafeterias to judge the passage of time. Surges of popularity would indicate mealtimes, and the rhythms of food consumption would mark the days.

  She demoted the passage of time to a lower priority level and turned back to the basics. Most functions inside The City were performing normally, at least part of the time. But random crashes of key systems cropped up with alarming regularity and required nearly all of her attention. And much of it she was delegating. The few Fixers that still toiled in the UnderWorks were working nearly non-stop chasing down glitches.

  It was during one such emergency repair, a reboot of the water distribution system for the central administration district, that the sky above the dome erupted once more. Colors in one point of the sky faded, and a small point among the background of Divine Space expanded into a stable black disc.

  “Apollo? Are you there?” Talia asked as the object approached. “This would be a really good time to offer some guidance.”

  She was mildly surprised when, after long moments, she heard Apollo whisper in her mind.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not aliens,” he said. “Although we may wish it was by the time this is all over.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know why she’s here. She doesn’t need to make an appearance like this. Maybe she wants to help, or maybe just judge for herself the true state of The City.”

  “She?”

  He was no longer transmitting the raw, maniacal emotions of earlier, but Apollo’s undercurrents of conflicting feelings still agitated the blood riders of every human being in The City.

  Before Talia could question him further, a new feeling pushed aside the jumble of fervent impulses from the god of suns. Her mind reached out in desperate relief as a sense of bravery and calm pervaded her soul.

  Through her Aspects, Talia watched as people stopped what they were doing and looked to the blank spot in the sky. The look of wonder in their eyes reinforced the new sense of strength she felt.

  Only one type of being could reach right into the core of human identity and uplift someone so thoroughly.

  Another god had arrived.

  All eyes followed the pulsing circle above them. She spied movement in the center.

  Something came through.

  Even with all her resources, Talia could not describe the thing that drifted down toward the dome. It gracefully unfolded like some newly-born life, yet it gave gave off readings that could only come from exotic materials forged by a high civilization.

  And then there came a whisper in Talia’s mind, and judging by the reaction of everyone else, it was a message the whole City was receiving. The voice firmed up, majestic and strong, yet soothing at the same time.

  “Be at ease, loved ones. No danger will touch you in this place,” the voice assured. “I am Grey Wolf, and I send blessings upon you, now and forevermore. I cannot accompany you to the new world; I am here merely to help shepherd you on your journey. But know that your cousins on the Wandering World send their love, and their hopes, with you. We are two branches of humanity that must walk different paths, but someday we shall meet again.”

  The feeling of relief that washed through Talia was overwhelming. She felt like a part of the crowd again, not an experiment forever separated by a technological divide. Her human self yearned for the comfort of the god’s protection. She allowed her thoughts to leak outward toward this strange Aspect of the reclusive god, sharing messages of welcome and peace.

  Talia’s euphoric experience didn’t last long.

  A probing presence sliced down from the object, focused on her. The powerful mind of Grey Wolf spoke through multiple City systems, roaring inside her head.

  “What are you?”

  She was taken aback by the forcefulness of the god’s challenge. “My name is Talia. I was an acolyte in Tower’s temple. Before he fell, he altered me to be the will that controls The City.”

  “You are no god. Yet you have been granted total control over the lives of nearly all humanity?”

  “When Tower called, I answered,” Talia said, and for perhaps the first time in her life, she felt a rising anger at one of mankind’s seven deities. “And when the Otrid came, I defended The City, even when several of the gods couldn’t be troubled.”

  “You greet your god with insults?”

  “I’ve spoken nothing but the truth.”

  Talia felt a pressure settling over her as Grey Wolf’s strange Aspect probed the connections that bound her to The City. “This newfound power has made you arrogant.”

  A jittery laugh erupted from deep inside Talia. What can you do when one god commands you to act in one way, and another disapproves? “I’m famous for my modesty,” she said, and didn’t attempt to hide the edge in her voice.

  “Foolish child. The Seven were chosen by acclamation of all surviving humans after enduring the worst calamity in history. Only we are allowed to bear the blessing and the curse of so much power. I relieve you of this burden.”

  The connections that bound Talia to the missile launchers five kilometers from the dome went dark.

  With shocking swiftness, the links to the data archives that she constantly accessed dulled to nothing.

  She thrashed in her creche, even more aware than usual of the hair-fine cables and wireless implants that chained her to the countless systems. Losing the extra senses felt like limbs being hacked off her body.

  Yet, even in the throes of her diminishment, it was not lost on her that this must be how Tower felt when the Otrid broke down and stripped away his godly powers. Did Grey Wolf even realize her actions mimicked those of humanity’s worst enemy?

  Is this how everything ends? Surviving the Otrid’s final attack only to be eliminated by one of my own gods?

  Talia felt her control of her Aspects start to flicker, and put her full concentration into maintaining them. She detected Grey Wolf attempting to cut the link to the primary generators that powered the projections, but Talia diverted power from an alternate source.

  The voice returned, cold and taunting. “You are plugged into every corner of The City, but I was there when the first supports were sunk into Skyra’s soil. I know the arteries of this metropolis like they were my own. The City is nothing more than a godship planted on a moon, and it holds no secrets from me.”

  “Grey Wolf, if you remove my control, large parts of The City will go dark. You’re risking lives for no good reason.”

  “No reason? And what will you do at your new world, with your new powers? You’re an anomaly, Talia fake-god. My only motivation is the long-term survival of the human race. But you’re no longer truly human. How can any of us know what danger you’ll pose in the future? There are few enough gods remaining to hold you in check, should the need arise. Will you be the serpent introduced into the garden…” />
  “Enough, mangy wolf-hag,” came Apollo’s voice, forceful and clear in Talia’s mind. She immediately felt quiet reserves of strength building inside her as Apollo caressed the blood riders that raced through her body. “Talia is under my protection, just as she was under Tower’s, and she owes you no explanations. She’s done more to ensure the survival of the human race than any of us have lately, and your blundering only endangers us all. You’re leaving now, whether you like it or not.”

  Talia could sense the clash of forces that were grappling for control of The City, and for her. She lent what powers she had to Apollo, but found the probes from Grey Wolf and counterstrikes from Apollo were racing by too quickly for her to follow.

  Her senses contracted, and she found she could no longer communicate with The City.

  She exhaled deeply as the blessed silence settled over her thoughts. There was only her mind, her body, and the cold indifference of the underground chamber.

  You’ve done all you can do. It’s all truly in the hands of the gods now.

  Talia reached across her body and cradled her right hand in her left. For a moment it reminded her of Mik’s touch, and the impression made her smile.

  I wish you were here, Mik.

  She felt herself drifting away to she knew not what.

  Maybe nothing at all.

  Chapter 30

  Small Blue Globe

  Mik woke with a start, a momentary surge of panic running through him. Multiple inputs from the Hightower’s sensors flooded in, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. His mind stood at the intersection between the physical reality of his starship and the incomprehensible strangeness of Divine Space outside the hull, and its first reaction was a defensive crouch.

  Slowly, he ordered his thoughts and took stock of his situation.

  He hadn’t meant to sleep, but in the aftermath of the battle—and the strange clash between Apollo’s godship and Grey Wolf’s emissary—relief and weariness overcame him. In Mik’s previous journey through Divine Space to the new world, the excitement and fear that powered him had kept him awake, and the trip hadn’t actually taken very long. But he had no idea how long this transit was supposed to take. Did it matter if one was flying a single starship, compared with dragging an entire world through this bizarre subspace environment?

  He didn’t know, and the gods were damned skimpy with details like that.

  Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Almost the entirety of the human race was committed to this course of action, and it would play out no matter whether he understood the details or not.

  His mind finally cleared, followed by a strengthening sense of resolve.

  Our lives are in the hands of the gods now, but I’m still admiral of the fleet with duties to carry out.

  Mik focused the ship’s scanners—never very reliable in Divine Space—and searched for signs of Otrid pursuit. Finding none, he narrowed the search to locate the remaining ships of the fleet. He was relieved to find they were still in the same tight formation they had been in before he fell asleep. He called up a live image of the Red Dagger off his starboard bow. Seeing its burnt and scarred hull, he dreaded reading the after-action reports. He would have to deliver grim news to many families, just as the human race entered its most hopeful era in generations.

  It was strange, almost reckless in Mik’s mind, to have the ships so tightly packed together. But Apollo had sent instructions with assurances that if they stayed within a certain distance to each other above the surface of Skyra, they would all transit Divine Space together. Yet the distance was much closer to the surface of Skyra than any of his ships would normally orbit. The moon was immense below him, giving the impression that he was about to be swallowed by the worldlet.

  He scrubbed his hands down his face and stretched muscles that had been confined to fixed positions for too long. He shook his head to clear it a final time, then ordered the Hightower’s self-repair systems to do what could be done. Mik then unlatched himself from his command seat and went to the spare cabin where he kept his personal items and tools. He wiggled his stiff fingers. Even on so advanced a ship as this, there had to be something a Fixer could get his hands on and repair.

  Time to get back in fighting trim. No telling if there are any beasties waiting on the other side.

  ***

  The exit from Divine Space was just as abrupt as the entry had been. Even though Mik had been through the transition before and was expecting it, he still yelled out in shock as the liquid strangeness disappeared and unfamiliar stars burst into view above him. He could only imagine the reactions of the people looking up through the dome.

  When the immediate shock subsided he called out for status reports from his ships and was relieved to find that all had made the transit intact. He sent them new courses, up and away from Skyra’s gravity well and out into a standard patrol position. He guided the Hightower into a new orbit around the moon and cast his sensor net wide, in search of anything unexpected.

  Nothing beyond the human presence revealed itself.

  Only then did he allow himself the luxury of taking in the view, and let a sense of wonder and cautious optimism escape.

  By the gods, they actually did it. They did it!

  Across a distance of approximately 300,000 miles he saw the blue and green world that would be their new home. It looked so much smaller than the gas giant Lodias, whose furious moods had dominated their lives and culture for longer than anyone could remember.

  He watched in wonder as messages from Apollo and Apex dominated every feed, urging calm and patience while the gods secured a stable orbit for Skyra. It might be several frustrating days, the gods said, as they gauged the effect on tides and weather of a new body orbiting the planet. With the news came soothing emotions that could only be from the gods caressing his blood riders, which no doubt was being played out across all of human space.

  Mik tuned it out after a while.

  The only thing that mattered now was Talia. But no matter how often he tried to reach her, he got no response. A feeling of trepidation that outweighed even the emotional manipulation of the gods overcame him.

  He set course for the spaceport outside The City.

  His body had survived the war and made it here, but his life was still buried in a deep chamber beneath the dome.

  Chapter 31

  Life or Legend?

  The three gods walked together on the surface of a planet for the first time in centuries.

  Apollo had manufactured an android body on his godship, fitted with a blank mind core, for Maelstrom to occupy. The formerly bodiless god moved in lurches and stumbles as he acclimated to his new form.

  He reached out and laid a hand on Apex’s shoulder, using the weathered god’s spindly frame to balance himself.

  Apollo, all ten feet of him, his body glowing golden in the sunlight, looked on in amusement as the artificial body of Maelstrom and the aged human form of Apex steadied each other.

  “Yes, this will surely inspire the masses. Put your faith in the magical farmer and his mechanical man! Behold the wonders of the gods!”

  Apex snorted in disgust, while Maelstrom fixed the lens holes that were his new eyes upon the god of suns. His irises expanded and contracted as he mastered the art of focusing his visual center.

  “Thank you, Apollo, for generously crafting this body for me,” Maelstrom said. “But had I known that it would come with the burden of unending insults, I might have selected an underused servitor bot for a new home.”

  “No mere servitor bot could contain your ego,” Apollo said, raising his voice in mimicry. “All hail! I am servitor-Maelstrom, here to change the temperature regulator on your food storage unit!”

  “And he says that without a hint of irony,” Apex grumbled as he continued down the path on which he was leading them.

  Apollo laughed, and it was the laugh of someone freed from worries, freed from the knowledge that one false step could mean the
end of everything. He realized he was being an insufferable ass, but didn’t much care. When life was sweet, you drank your fill. Already he was composing in his mind a symphony that would commemorate this day.

  The mad god that had whispered in Apollo’s ear during the fighting had retreated to the darker crevices of his mind.

  They marched on in silence for a while, through a very Earth-like savannah. Low trees were clustered here and there, and the sky was such a clear blue that Apollo envied The City’s population, with their pure human eyes, that would witness this beauty in a way that Apollo’s varied sensory inputs could never quite replicate.

  Apex had chosen a remote area for this newest project, as Apollo had requested, far away from the new debarkation points where the people where taking their first tentative steps onto the new world.

  The three of them at last stopped as the land fell away, revealing a broad canyon. On the far side, a cliff face glowed with the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

  “This is where we should put them,” Apex said, sweeping his arm to indicate the stark cliffs. “Even though I still think we should let the people build their own monuments to their gods.”

  “They can build all the monuments they want,” Apollo said. “This one is to be our remembrance of our friends and comrades. Tower, Faraway and Triton deserve no less. Yes. I can see it. We can carve their likenesses into the stone cliff face, to be forever animated by the light of this sun. Although I admit,” he said, a mischievous look brightening his features, “I’d love to see the looks on their faces when the first explorers come to this part of the world and see the images of their lost gods already carved into the mountainside.”

  They talked for a while about how they would execute their plan, how each fallen god should be presented, and what resources would need to be harnessed.

  As the sun set, Apex waved in a group of servitor bots that had been following at a discreet distance. Without him saying a word, they set about erecting a camp—large tents, sturdy throne-like chairs, and a central fire.