Except for the pilot, everyone was watching them. “He built the cross,” Stella said.
“And you climbed up on it, didn't you?” George said. “Even worse, you don't want to come down.”
His words sank into her, compounding her pain. She gripped her seat and tried to concentrate on her mission.
Jason slapped his knees. “You know something?” he said, “in a way it's kind of funny. All my life it's been women, women, women.”
His armored hand rose, pointing directly ahead. “And now where am I going? On a visit to see the freakin’ All-Mother, that's where I'm going! She's got to be the biggest damned woman of all.”
Hysteric laughter came from some of the passengers. The small pod rang with it. Even George laughed a little, but Stella wouldn't.
The biggest damned woman of all. Perhaps it was an even better term for the All-Mother than Pancho's ‘A dog of a whore,’ or the one she herself had recently harbored: ‘A god with three secrets.’ What was the All-Mother, anyway? Would she ever see her? Ever know?
“Stella,” the pilot called, “we're reaching the first ships.”
* * * *
They coasted through the greatest graveyard in history, passing endless wrecks of gutted, still-smoking metal. Ship after ship after ship. In some places bodies floated, revolving slowly. She saw one face with its eyes open in death, staring directly at her as they passed.
Now and then, they passed objects floating in the void that were even more disturbing than the blood-drenched remnants of devastation. Stella saw a crystal hologram of someone's smiling wife and children ... a delicate pink flower with a long graceful stem ... a shimmering green party dress that would never be worn at another Imperial ball.
Mostly splintered and broken ships met her gaze, and a limitless wasteland of bodies, some intact, some ripped to pieces. At one point Stella watched a disembodied leg glance off the shuttle pod and sail lazily on, its boot neatly fastened as if its owner had intended to be prepared.
As far as she could see, blasted hulls and countless corpses stretched before them. It seemed to go on forever.
“Stella!” Brett said, swinging from side to side. “Slug ships up ahead!”
“It's all right,” Stella said. “They won't attack. This is the All-Mother's show.”
On and on they went, passing charred hulks that represented the death of an empire. She read their names, trying to commit them to a roll call of memory. The S.S. Kolanera ... Atlas ... The Intrepid ... Valiant ... Galactica...
They didn't see the Spaceranger, but at one point they passed General Loran's flagship Victory. It was a blackened, gaping, twisted ruin.
Amid such vistas of destruction, the huge Slug ships hovered. In the bow of each, she knew, a swollen alien watched them. Any one could have blasted them to atoms.
“Stella,” Brett hissed, “I saw some comrades alive on that ship we just passed!”
“We can't stop for them now,” Stella said, hardening herself. “Pancho can pick them up later.”
“There must be hundreds, maybe even thousands on ships who are still alive.”
“All the more reason why we must attend to business first.” She stared straight ahead, remembering the soldier she had saved on the Slug ship. “If we don't kill the All-Mother, none of us will leave this place.”
They moved on and on. Occasionally, acting on the insistent call Stella began to feel within her mind, she gave the pilot directions to change their course.
Finally, like an immense, bulbous seed, the All-Mother's ship came into view. They stared at it in awe.
“You were right, Stella,” George whispered.
She watched the extended boarding tube as they grew near, knowing that things were finally coming to an end. Or perhaps it would only be the dawn of a new and more terrible beginning.
Expertly, the pilot extended the egress ramp and maneuvered alongside. They all left the pod quickly and entered the All-Mother's ship.
Stella led them, the All-Mother's call now sweet fever in her blood. The All-Mother wanted her and she wanted the All-Mother, and in dim glimpses she could almost see what it was they both wanted. She turned left then right, guided by her enemy, her plasma jet held ready as were the weapons of her crew.
Closer ... closer...
The corridors here were cavernous, far larger than those on the Slug ship. Vast and vaulted, they reminded her of a cathedral. Beneath her, the blue metal floor she had seen on the Slug ship seemed to lure the eye and glow with distant fire.
Right again, then left.
Ahead, rose a huge open portal. She knew it led to her final destination, the bow where the All-Mother waited.
Stella halted and glanced at them, this time meeting Jason's eyes. She wanted to say something to him, reach out.
Instead, she only brandished her weapon. “This is it,” she said. “May God bless our Emperor.”
“May God bless our Emperor,” they repeated.
Stella turned and moved on.
The bow was fifteen meters away ... ten...
Suddenly Scaleys leapt from side portals into the corridor, their weapons blazing. Stella seared two and they fell as her crew crumbled around her. She saw George thrown back against a wall and collapse, and then Brett cut in half. She whirled, burning another Scaley's faceplate, then another. There were just too many.
“Stella-to your left!”
Jason's voice rang in her ears and she swung to confront an approaching Scaley. But it didn't want her.
Jason thrust himself before her, his plasma jet burning into the Scaley's armor. The Scaley advanced, its own weapon trained on Jason's chest. A beam licked out.
Jason screamed and spun violently, his weapon pointed up at the ceiling. For a long moment he teetered on his toes like a dancer who had just performed a difficult pirouette. Then he fell, his weapon dropping from his hand.
It was over as quickly as it had begun. The Scaleys inspected the bodies and then left, not even looking at her.
Slowly, she moved to Jason and knelt beside him, peering through his faceplate. Behind it, his eyes fluttered open.
“You damn fool,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It didn't want me. I was never in any danger.”
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “Sorry. Guess I mucked up again.” His face contorted and he writhed in pain. “Please ... forgive me, Stella.” He swallowed, and then parted his lips. “I always loved you.”
“I know you do,” she answered. She took his hand, pressed it against her. “I've always known it.”
As she said it, something broke inside her. “I love you,” she cried, wishing she could kiss his lips. “Sorry ... so stupid. Please forgive me, Jason.”
“Nothing to forgive,” he whispered. He raised his armored hand and touched her faceplate, and it was as if she could feel his fingers against her cheek. “I'll be with you forever amid the stars, Stella. Somehow, I promise, I'll find a way to wait there for you.”
He lowered his arm and closed his eyes. She watched his head roll slowly to the side.
Rising, she examined the others, the sonic cleaners in her helmet struggling to remove her tears. Oh God, they were dead-all her comrades. All except...
George opened his eyes as she knelt beside him. His faceplate was spattered with blood.
“You needed us, all right,” George said. He swore. “Guess we didn't make a difference. It looks like my luck's finally run out. Don't have nine lives after all.”
“It was bound to happen eventually,” she said. She forced a smile. “Anyway, you're too damn tough to kill.”
“I admire your confidence,” he wheezed. He closed his eyes, gathering strength to speak again. “You're the last one, Stella. Even if I make it, it's all up to you now.”
She touched his shoulder though he couldn't feel it, and rose. Turning, she faced the bow's entrance just a few meters away.
Last dance, my Stella, the All-Mother told her. I am waitin
g for you.
Last dance, All-Mother, she answered. She gripped her plasma jet, aiming it straight ahead. Get ready, you goddamned bitch, ‘cause I'm coming to get you.
Bracing herself, she entered the bow of the ship.
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* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The room she entered was vast.
She stopped and looked up, way way up to the hull or ceiling. Only there was no hull or ceiling, just silvery-gray reaches that confused and confounded the eye. She stood with her plasma jet held ready, not knowing what to do. Where was the All-Mother? Where was she hiding? And what was she going to do?
She fought down her uncertainties. The All-Mother was the queen of deception and treachery, and she could undermine one's spirit and resolve in an endless number of ways. She must expect anything, even her enemy's apparent absence. Stella took a step forward, and then stopped. No, let the All-Mother come to her.
No bow is this huge, she thought, gazing up into boundless space. It's too big.
And suddenly, as if she'd been conjured, the All-Mother was there.
She was stupendous, towering a hundred meters high. Great rocklike legs supported a mountainous trunk glittering with countless silver facets, and a dozen arms flashed razor-sharp claws that opened and closed with a vast hissing sound. At the top, far above, an immense head grinned down with fierce, slavering jaws. The eyes themselves were molten suns and in them she beheld her puny form. The All-Mother was God: all-powerful, invincible, unknowable. Compared to her, Stella knew she was less than an ant.
Frail, insignificant human, at last we meet.
Trembling, Stella raised her weapon, aiming at the titanic form. She raked it from side to side, moving her arm again and again. Something's wrong, her mind screamed. If I'm insignificant, why do you want me here? It's a lie!
Back and forth her weapon carved, severing gigantic chunks of the All-Mother's body. It crumbled, then finally collapsed to the floor with a sound like thunder, and lay still.
The All-Mother was dead.
Stella crept forward, still firing at the enormous carcass. Was it possible? Had she actually won? Hope stirred within her. Yes, she had won. The All-Mother was...
The All-Mother vanished.
She cut her power, staring at a vast bow that was empty except for a complex drive system far to her left.
“It wasn't real,” she said in boundless disappointment. “You're just a master of illusion like your sons, only more powerful in your ability to deceive. Is that one of your secrets?”
Silence.
Stella moved on, her footsteps echoing in the tremendous chamber. Through the bottom of a sweeping plexiport, she saw the black whirlpool of Cygnus X-1 approaching. How had they traveled so fast? This ship's power must be immense!
When she reached the bow's center, she revolved slowly, looking in all directions. “Are you only an illusion, All-Mother?” she called. “Something that doesn't exist?” How could something that didn't exist possess such power?
I AM THAT I AM, the All-Mother proclaimed.
Stella saw her hand rise, borne by another's will, and cast her weapon aside, leaving her defenseless. I can do all because I am all, the All-Mother told her. Behold, finite being, my very first act of Creation.
A vision appeared in Stella's mind, and she saw the monobloc of the universe before it was formed. Or perhaps it was the monobloc of the first universe, the primal mass that began the cosmic cycles.
Behold.
The monobloc exploded and worlds and stars formed as the universe expanded throughout aeons. Then entropy set in and energy died, devouring itself as planets and stars and nebulae and quasars contracted toward the center, toward the original, super-dense monobloc whose womb exploded again, re-seeding the void and finally contracting in yet another hundred-billion-year cycle. Each colossal cycle was but a single heartbeat in the infinite life of the All-Mother who was God, God the Mother and God the Father, God the Alpha and the Omega and the source of all fruitful and teeming life.
If this is you, Stella thought, I myself am nothing.
Of course, the All-Mother said. But you've always known that.
Something was still not right. If she were nothing, why did the All-Mother care? Why should her enemy want her?
“No,” she screamed, “it's all a lie, just another illusion! For all I know, you aren't even real!”
Rage shot through her like lightning. Her God was angry. The cosmic cycles the All-Mother showed her acquired yet greater gloss and glory, seeming to sing their divine provenance. Who was she to question?
“You're too eager to convince me,” she shouted. “Why do you do this? What do you need?”
The cyclic procession grew even more lustrous and sublime, as if her adversary were determined to sweep away her stubborn doubts. As the monobloc exploded yet again in new splendor, the psychic link with her enemy strengthened. Stella glimpsed something she hadn't seen before, something the All-Mother did not want her to know.
“You aren't God,” Stella said. “You didn't even have the courage to show me your true form. It must be so monstrous, so hideous that you have no choice but to hide behind illusions.”
She reached out and seized one of the All-Mother's secrets, turned it to see its facets. “You didn't cause the birth of the universe at all. You only take your powers from that birth, from the explosion of energy that begins each cycle. Somehow you store it like a battery.”
Then she knew and flung her laughter at the All-Mother. You were spewed from the first explosion like a dry, worthless piece of dung, weren't you? Cast out from the womb of creation into your endless, miserable night. You had no father and no mother, no family and no species to call your own. And that's why you call yourself the ‘All-Mother’ and use such terms as ‘seed’ and ‘fertile womb’ and ‘Pregnant Song.’ You want to embody all life because you yourself are life's antithesis, sexless and sterile and dead. ‘All-Mother'-ha! You are All-Dead, not a she but an It, and the first of your secrets is that the only way you can have children is to steal them!
No! the All-Mother answered. You are misguided, and for your pathetic insolence I shall spin...
You shall spin nothing, Stella retorted, holding tight to their bond so she could see more. That's why the Slugs call you All-Mother, isn't it? You killed their race, the females, and seized their infant sons whom you reared as your own. You absorbed their history and passed it on to them, but you made a few changes, didn't you? You erased their parents as if they had never been and set yourself up as their only one. I should have put it all together at the beginning, for the son George killed never even saw you, did he? If he had seen how vile and monstrous you are, he would have known you weren't his mother at all. If he had seen you just once, he would have spurned and repudiated you.
Stella turned, seeking her nemesis. “What is your true form?” she cried aloud. “What unmentionable horror are you hiding? Come out and let me see you!”
Silence. About her the great bow waited. Through the plexiport, Stella saw the black funnel of Cygnus X-1 grow as they streaked toward it.
This first secret of the All-Mother ... was it the greatest of the three? A sentient, barren being without a single other of its kind. How it must have envied and coveted the abundant life it found in universe after universe! How many species had it destroyed, how many children had it torn from their parents and deceived about their birthright?
Footsteps. Stella whirled, weaponless, to see a naked figure walking toward her. The body was beautiful and the face made her moan. Slowly, she raised her hands to remove her helmet, knowing that when the figure reached her and touched her cheek, everything would be all right again.
She watched the figure stop before her and smile, a lock of dark hair curling over his forehead.
“Hello, Stella,” Jason said, his fingers warm upon her skin. “Do you still love me?”
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> * * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
She tried to retreat, but before she could, Jason's arms were around her body, his lips pressed against her own. For one long moment she forgot everything-the ship, the All-Mother, even the protective armor she wore.
When she finally pushed back, Jason seized her arm, his strength equal to her own. No, it was greater; she couldn't break his hold. He held her like gentle steel whose strength she felt only when she resisted.
“Let me go,” she said. “You're just another of her illusions.”
“No, Stella.” Jason loosened his hold but did not release her. “I'm still Jason,” he said. “The man who loves you.”
She raised her free hand and struck his face, only to feel it absorb her blow like tar. He took her fist and pressed it to his lips until her fingers opened.
Jason's dark eyes and beloved face-so close, so real. “It is me, Stella,” he said. “I've come back.”
“How?”
“Listen,” he murmured, his breath sweet and warm on her face. “When I was dying, she came to me and preserved all my memories, offered me another chance at life. It's me, Stella.”
She looked down at his naked, beautifully molded body, feeling memories of its touch on every part of her. Beneath his lip, she saw the scar a little girl had once given him.
“I can tell you things I never had a chance to,” he said. “The name of my favorite aunt, the touch of sunlight on my parents’ pond, even how it felt the first time I launched a ship.”
“No!” She tried again to pull away. “She stole those memories from you. You're not real!”
He brushed her cheek with his lips. “All my feelings for you are still intact, as well as the memory of the terrible way I betrayed you.” She pulled back a little, and she could see his tears. “It is me, Stella. The Jason that you know, the one that you love.” He gazed at her and touched her face. “I still think you have a cute nose.”
This time she wrenched free, but he pursued her with a speed Jason never possessed and trapped her again with his embrace.
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