The Fifth Science

by Exurb1a

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “What is it?” But the thing had already dawned on him, partially. “That second message, from the satellite. The voidship was from Al’Hazaad. There’s an Al’Hazaadian here, now?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And they’re aboard Glossia.”

  “I don’t know. But the timing seems coincidental.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  She closed her eyes. “There isn’t the time. There may be three days at most before this all spirals out of control, maximum chaos potential. There isn’t time. I needed you here. There’s nothing we can do that’s more important than finding the ancestor craft. Hare is with your brother. She’ll make sure Tarnovo’s protected.”

  A pause. Tisho said, “How dangerous are the folk from Al’Hazaad?”

  Io said, “They have somewhat...unusual customs.”

  Ha’Izaak butchered the novice guards first. Or technically we can say it was Ixtab.

  Seventeen bodies lay on Glossia’s outer deck. The battle alarm began to sound, a deafening bleat.

  Another guard appeared at the outer door. Ixtab launched itself at a vicious speed and vapourised the guard where he stood.

  Ha’Izaak entered the raft. He toured the faculties first, Mathematics, Glossian Literature, Psychodynamics. He executed those who resisted and largely ignored those who didn’t.

  There was some kind of clockwork elevator in the main lobby and he threatened the attendant until she agreed to take him up to the bridge. He ended her when they arrived.

  The bridge was full of guards. They shot off round after round from glinting brass guns. Ixtab ate all of the bullets, then dispatched the guards.

  Only the bridge staff remained. They cowered.

  “Thanks for your attention,” Ha’Izaak said. “I will be commandeering your vessel for the next few days. It is in your best interest to do as I ask. According to my artificial friend, there is a visitor on your world, I believe. She is in a habitat resembling this.” Ixtab took the shape of a raft of spires and bridges. “What is the raft’s name?”

  “Tarnovo…” someone said quietly.

  “Excellent. You will set a course for Tarnovo. What kind of weapons does Glossia sport?”

  A highly decorated military-looking woman said, “Seventeen thousand troops, sixty dreadnoughts, multiple attack craft, and cannons.”

  “All right. See to it that everything is kept on standby at all times.” He turned on who he assumed must be the steerage boy and the boy quivered. “Shall we get going then?”

  Tisho set the subnautical down on the worldsea bed and they donned their pressure suits. The airlock cycled. Water flooded the cavity. They were standing in the ocean.

  Io led the way in silence, Phaedrus, Majister Denyer’s sphere, hanging beside her.

  The structure was the length of three Tarnovos, at least. It was streamlined, no aberrations, no lips or fins. More fish than starship.

  When they reached the hull they found no airlocks. Nor were there any inlets that might lead to an in. Instead Io pushed her hand straight through the hull as though it were a projection. Before her whole body disappeared inside she turned about to Tisho and smiled encouragingly. He pondered following for a moment. Then he put a tentative hand to the hull and entered. Another push and he found himself inside a shining, cylindrical, silver chamber. Io had her helmet off already.

  “Why is there power?” Tisho said.

  “Old Empire ships carried…very big batteries. I’ll explain later.”

  “And we’ve been trying to get inside for centuries. How did you just do that?”

  Io shrugged. “Doors are boring. We haven't done doors for ages back home.”

  The chamber had grooves set in the ground that might have been seats, but no signs of instrumentation. Actually no signs of anything, save for geometrical carvings in the wall: strange ‘meta-shapes’, cubes with protrusions. Io walked them through a few brightly lit tunnels that were clean and ventilated. There were no doors here, no partitions, no sense of private ownership.

  They moved into a section that was blue-lit. The geometric murals were gone now, replaced with gigantic shards of crystal jutting from the ground.

  “What is this place?” Tisho said quietly.

  Io said, “Towards the end of the empire, when this ship set off, things were in a state. Total Galactic Narrative Collapse was getting nearer and nearer. The only way of carrying so many colonists with so many differing opinions was to set up separate areas in a voidship tailored to their individual narratives. This section used to contain folk who believed in the magical elements of mythology. The section we started in was for those who were more scientifically inclined.”

  They passed into a red-lit section then and flags covered the walls, as well as portraits of men and women in gleaming silver togas standing on mountainsides and striking heroic poses.

  “And this place?” Tisho said.

  “For the planetists, for the colonists who held to the myth of the sovereignty of individual planets. Plenty mistrusted the empire. Better to give them space to do it than try to shut them up.”

  Finally they reached a canyon. Tisho peered into the canyon and saw nothing but black. His breath echoed.

  Io sent the sphere down into the abyss. It reappeared a few moments later and said something in Ertian.

  “What is it?” Tisho said.

  “It’s worse than I thought.”

  “What?”

  She scrutinised Tisho as one might a child before telling of a marital affair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about your ancestors and the empire.”

  She gave a command to Phaedrus. It disappeared back into the canyon and re-emerged, this time tugging a huge cloud of blue phosphorescent dust below it.

  “This is materia,” Io said. “It’s a substance that can be injected into large-scale astronomical structures to make changes to the base configuration. The empire used it for the fifth science.”

  “To make stars awake?” Tisho said, feeling like an idiot.

  “In a manner of speaking. That was a project of the empire's for many years, coming to a star system, infusing the star with materia, then staying for a few generations to oversee the process. Materia must be injected slowly, over the course of a century or so for the effect to take hold. Actually, the idea at first was just to turn stars into computers of a sort. Empire mathematicians were finding insurmountable problems in their mathematics that they thought only organic computers could deal with, fuzzy logic and the like. It didn’t take long though before they worked out the same process could be used to create self-aware structures.”

  Tisho left a respectful silence and said, “So did they?”

  Matter-of-factly Io said, “Yes. I know of over seven hundred stars exhibiting apparent self-awareness.”

  “That’s why they’ve been changing position?”

  “Majister Denyer thought so. As do I.”

  “And Morae’s star…”

  Io gestured to the blue plasma before them. “All of this should’ve been used up by your ancestors when they came here. It wasn’t, and that means something stopped the process. They may’ve had a civil war or a rebellion of some kind before they could inject it all into your sun.” The sphere let the blue dust go and returned to Io’s side. Io continued, “Your star should’ve gone fifth millennia ago. Instead, it’s been ticking over. Not enough materia was injected and now it’s unstable. Had you ever wondered why your rafts are all biological? Your ancestors knew fifthing a star sets off solar flares that could wipe out electronics. They probably only meant to stay here a few centuries, but eventually decided to live in habitats that wouldn’t be affected by electromagnetic disruptions. Clever choice, I’d say. Still, something must have gone horribly wrong with their culture. We’ll probably never know what.”

  Tisho said, “We have enough philosophy on Morae for me to be a bit…unsure about this.”

  She
fixed him politely. “Go on.”

  “How do you know they’re self-aware? The stars, I mean.”

  “Because they talk to us.”

  “How?”

  “Gamma waves, sometimes. Other times they leave messages in the dust, or in the sand. Or in plasma in the sky. They’re clever. Very clever. They want things. They know things.”

  “You’ve…talked with one?”

  “Not personally, but I’ve seen the messages one left in a carbonara.”

  “What.”

  She led them through another few tunnels, through an atrium, through what might have been a bar, then into a hall of geometric instruments. A star appeared at the centre of the room, an entirely convincing projection. Io said, “I’d imagine this is your sun. It isn’t far from becoming unstable. The original dose of materia was enough to start the process. It’s been coming along fine ever since by itself. Another hundred years though and it will rip itself apart. We need to intervene before that happens. Either we remove all the materia from its core or we insert enough to push it over the fifth threshold.”

  The two of them were dwarfs before the projection. Tisho could not shake the feeling that man had amplified his imagination out beyond his head and refashioned the entire universe with it.

  Io said, “Phaedrus, search the voidship’s stores, please. See if you can find a materia injector. The manifest says there are three on the Engineering Deck.”

  Phaedrus zipped off into the black of the surrounding corridors.

  Tisho said, “What did they want? The colonists, I mean. Why did they come all this way to inject a star with this stuff?”

  “Wouldn’t you build God if you could?”

  Tisho thought about that. He had no good answer.

  They exited ribbondash. The two of them were thrown against the hull.

  “Stabilise, stabilise now,” Majister Denyer shouted. The whirling continued. “Phaedrus, go,” he yelled to his sphere. Phaedrus passed through the hull and darted about making little electrical repairs to the outside. The whirling slowed and Phaedrus re-entered. It broke apart into text for a moment: Inertial systems all entropic.

  “What?” Io shouted, still pinned to the hull.

  “Phaedrus, how far is Morae?” Denyer yelled.

  Seventeen minutes by standard propulsion.

  “Can you get us there?”

  I will attempt it.

  The spinning slowed a little more and Io was able to push herself away from the wall. She took a proper look at Majister Denyer. He appeared gaunter than usual, his eyes sunken.

  “Bashta,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.” He surveyed the stars about them. “We’re in the right place at least.”

  They admired the sun at the heart of the system: Beelzesh, as it was officially known to stellar cartographers. It looked no different to any other star Io had seen in pictures. They tracked another star; no, a planet. It neared, presenting a blueness.

  “It’s beautiful…” Io said.

  Phaedrus returned from another expedition outside. Inertial systems inoperable. Landing not recommended.

  Io said, “What is he talking about?”

  “Silly spheres, they’re always so skittish. Everything’s fine. Might be a bit of a bumpy landing, that’s all.”

  Majister Denyer was quiet for a time, his eyes glazed, and Io suspected he was talking to his sphere mentally, something he generally condemned as extreme rudeness.

  Finally he said, “Little bird, there are some things we will need to go over now. Just in case of the worst.”

  “Worst?”

  “I’m sorry, but we’ll be making our entry in a few minutes and this is important.” He switched to Mandala, not waiting for her ritual approval of the change.

  He signed in the mode of Reluctant Delicate Matter, a first for their conversations. He said, We are not here to forestall a solar event. An extinction may happen. It may not. We are here to ensure Al’Hazaad does not gain control of the star’s temperament.

  Io stared.

  The star is close to fifthing, on the threshold. My old master confirmed this long ago. It is very important that it be born correctly. Just a small alteration and it will develop along the path of absolute self-interest. It will wreck Morae. It will wreck the entire system. It will join forces with the Black Ruby Stars. We cannot allow that to happen.

  Io made the universal Mandala symbol for, “What is the alternative?”

  We find a way of delivering the star to infancy in the proper way. If there is a voidcraft on Morae, it must be found. There will be empire technology aboard, materia. The materia must be set to a neutral configuration and injected into the star. We have good reason to believe Al’Hazaad already knows this will be our approach. They will try to swing the star in the opposite direction, make it an agent for ill.

  He wiped his brow, turned to approaching Morae, squinted.

  There is a war in progress, little bird. I believe some of the Fifths are amassing for the right reasons, forming into a union to protect the current state of things. I believe others wish to initiate a chain reaction that will ignite the universal mass field, turning the galaxy into a novovacuum.

  Why? Io asked with her fingers.

  It will allow the birth of a new physics, the nature of which we can’t even begin to guess at. Miraculous things may be possible under that regime. Biological life will not, however. We cannot allow this to happen under any circumstances. Our only way of stopping it is by adding another good soldier to their politics, the sun you see before us now.

  Io swallowed. She signed: What does Al’Hazaad want?

  They have no idea, he said.

  They were very near to Morae now, only moments from atmospheric entry. Majister Denyer folded his robe about himself. He said, “If the worst happens, keep your head.” Then, quoting the old line, “Learn the flowers, go light.”

  He took her hand and held it a moment. She felt his age through his grip, through the thousands of wrinkles and wear.

  Fire began to pool outside. The voidsphere span about. They were pinned once again to the hull, spinning so quickly Io wanted to vomit. About them were only flames then, fire and light, a mad plunge through hell.

  Io locked eyes with Majister Denyer. He looked perfectly calm, huddled there in his robe. He smiled to her. He nodded. Then he whispered something. His sphere exploded into a blanket. Io’s did the same. They both wrapped about Io, head to foot, a protective shield. She cried out, trying to break free, but Hare said in her mind, Please don’t, Io. It will only be another minute. Just stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…

  She was smashed against the hull repeatedly. The hull cried out a few times, a scream of twisted plasma. Then there was a quiet, the sound of wind whistling by, and finally a jolt and the splosh of water. Hare and Phaedrus pulled back.

  The world swam into focus.

  Night. Stars. Sea.

  The voidsphere had landed in the lap of an infinite ocean.

  Majister Denyer was lying unmoving, his face bloody.

  The subnautical was just a few feet from the worldsea surface. The journey back had been uneventful, passed mostly in silence; the weight of Io's speech still heavy on the two of them. Then, with a final gasp from the ballast tanks, they broke out of the water.

  Daylight and sky and fire.

  Tisho grabbed his telescope.

  Tarnovo and another raft were less than a mile distant from one another. Great energetic plumes of purple light were being fired from both habitats. Balloons were crossing the space between, payloads dangling from their underbellies. Tarnovo’s upper decks were alight.

  Tisho said slowly, “It’s Glossia. We're fighting Glossia.”

  Io sent out a mental packet. Within thirty seconds Hare was racing towards the subnautical. She opened the airlock. The sphere zipped in, exploding into text: Mass slaughter aboard. Perilous battle.

  “What started all this?” Io said.
>
  A visitor from Al’Hazaad. He believes you’re aboard the raft. Glossia is far superior. They will end the battle by attrition in maximum time of two hours from now. Several thousand dead aboard Tarnovo. One thousand four hundred dead aboard Glossia.

  “Board Glossia,” Io said quickly. “Neutralise the military.”

  Impossible. The Al’Hazaadian visitor has set up impenetrable EM zones predicting this move. I’ve tried puncturing the hull but technology is also prohibiting this.

  “What happens if the Glossians try to board Tarnovo?” she said.

  “Meto will use the gravity well. Both rafts will be sucked under,” Tisho said.

  “Meto wouldn’t commit suicide…”

  “He would if his pride’s on the line.”

  Flares continued to shoot back and forth. Balloons tangled with balloons, the occupants leaning from ropes to fire off pistols and swing swords.

  From Glossia came an enormous flurry of water. Tisho submerged the craft a few feet. Clearly ahead could be seen a mess of legs and bodies, creatures the width of twenty men. “Animal warfare,” he said. “They’re bred for battle. Barbaric.”

  The creatures reached Tarnovo’s hull and began to tear the outer struts apart with their teeth and claws.

  They surfaced again. The worldsea was a palette of fire and vapour. Tarnovo was retreating, Glossia powering towards it.

  Tisho said, “Could we sneak aboard Glossia?”

  “No, it’ll be expected. If Hare can’t get through, we certainly can’t either.”

  “Then what?”

  Io took a breath. “We have to disable the gravity drive on Tarnovo.”

  “What?”

  “I know it sounds mad, but look. Whoever the visitors from Al’Hazaad are, they’ll want to know I’m dead. If we blow Tarnovo sky high they won’t be sure they've dispatched me and their mission can’t be completed. They’ll have to board at some point. If they try to board though, your brother might throw the switch and take them both down to the worldsea bed. We’ll disable the gravity generator, wait for the visitors to board, and I’ll take care of the thing. It's the best option.”