The Ascendant Stars (52 page)

Robert turned away and hurried off along the curving tunnel, wincing as he heard the repeated impacts. Yet this was the meta-quantal thoughtscape of the Godhead and since his own subconsciousness was determined to have Reski Emantes as a companion it was very likely that the drone would show up again.

The tunnel was strewn with pebbles and grit and lit by strange veinlike growths that erupted from the walls every ten paces or so, giving off an amber glow. The curve tightened into an upward spiral and the tunnel floor began to look clean, swept and surfaced in some dimpled plastic material. The glowing veins became chevron-shaped light sources pointing in the direction he was going, which made him smile.

At last he came to a large triangular entrance with double doors which smoothly swung upwards when he approached. As he walked through he was met by a tall woman in a dark trouser suit and carrying a slim datapad. She had short black hair and pretty features offset by a formal, somewhat impassive air.

‘Thank you for coming, Ambassador,’ she said with a slight Scottish accent. ‘Now that you’re here, we will shortly bring in the guests. If you follow me I’ll introduce you to the observers.’

Robert smiled and nodded, feeling almost used to the incongruities being presented by the Godhead’s subconscious.
But is this merely an elaborate stage for me to caper across, or some form of challenge or test?

Through a pale blue lobby he was led into a high-ceilinged auditorium, emerging from a side door. To the left was a curved bank of empty seating and on the right was an elevated platform with a cluster of low easy chairs, two of which were occupied. Behind the platform a row of tall windows looked out on an astonishing sight, what appeared to be the towers, blocks, domed gardens and covered walkways of a city in the sky. Architectural styles seemed to derive from the old sleek, mirrored teknokratia school but its application to an airborne metropolis was breathtaking.

And made up
, he thought.
All this is just the fancy and spectacle of the Godhead’s subconscious reflecting my own experiences back at me via the meta-quantal flow
. He smiled.
But this is one place that I could imagine being real. In fact, it does have a certain consistency to its design, a kind of purposeful authenticity
.

His guide led him up to the platform, where two other women were waiting.

‘Ambassador, this is Observer Catriona and Observer Corazon.’

They were both diminutive women, dressed as formally as the first, but the contrast in their demeanour was marked. Observer Catriona was slight as a dancer with straight, shoulder-length brunette hair and an expression as unperturbed as that of Robert’s greeter. Observer Corazon, on the other hand, had black curly hair and an elfin face that positively glowed with a kind of bold charisma. When she smiled it was like being dazzled.

He shook hands and was offered a chair between them. As he sat, he looked questioningly at the woman who had welcomed him.

‘Pardon me, but are you not allowed to tell me your name?’

‘I am Supervisor Julia. We will now admit the guests.’

Behind the top tier of seats a line of doors opened and the
audience, all women, filed steadily, quietly into the hall. Although they were all ages and various physiques, they all had sandy blonde hair and the same unmistakable features.

They were all Rosa.

Robert could feel the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. There had to be at least three hundred versions of Rosa arriving, settling into seats, chatting with neighbours, glancing or peering or staring at him with expressions of delight or accusation or indifference.

A new species of nightmare
, he thought, wondering if he would be allowed to leave. But when he glanced over at the door by which he had entered he saw only a blank stretch of wall. Same with the entrances at the top of the seat tiers, gone. Swallowing, he smiled nervously.
There is an element of purpose to this
.

The woman called Supervisor Julia walked to the front of the dais.

‘Thank you all for attending. As you know, this is only an informal hearing, therefore the duration is expected to be malleable. Now, Observer Catriona will open the case for the reproach.’

The slender brunette got to her feet, took a silver penlike object from her pocket and pointed it at midair. A blur-edged cube appeared with frozen darkness within it.

‘This should be familiar to all present,’ Observer Catriona said.

The darkness unfroze, became a replay of vid footage he was indeed very familiar with, the news report of the clash between the Life and Peace flotilla and a Hegemony cruiser at a waypoint on the Metraj border. The warning messages, the visual excerpts from those aboard the
Pax Terra
, the fleeting glimpse of Rosa among them, the cruiser opening fire, the explosions, the awful images from aboard the smaller craft. It took place nearly a year ago, but no matter how many times he saw it the rawness of his grief remained a black corrosive thing.

The recording ended with the peace vessel
Pax Terra
reduced to a leaking, battered wreck, after which the holoprojection vanished. Robert drew a deep, shaky breath and exhaled, feeling some of the sorrow ease.

‘A number of factors contributed to this tragedy,’ said Observer Catriona. ‘Yet the most significant were the actions of Rosa’s father, Robert Horst – as a high-ranking Earthsphere diplomat it was well within his abilities to compel his daughter to abstain from taking part in such a hazardous exploit … ’

‘Rosa would never give in to browbeating,’ Robert said.

‘You could have had her restrained, or confined,’ the woman said. ‘If you had, she’d be alive today.’

‘What kind of father would lock up … ’ But the words died in his mouth when he realised that everyone in the Rosa audience was watching him intently.

‘The other main factor was the macro-political one,’ Observer Catriona went on. ‘Robert Horst was the senior Earthsphere negotiator, both before the invasion of the Yamanon Domain and after. If anyone was in a position to engineer the withdrawal of Earthsphere and Hegemony forces it was him. Yet here we are eight years and millions of deaths later … ’

‘Excuse me, Supervisor Julia, but has this hearing not strayed from its original focus?’ said Observer Talavera, who got to her feet, smiled at Robert, smoothed her black suit and faced the audience.

Supervisor Julia nodded. ‘Observer Talavera may now state the case for the probity.’

‘My esteemed colleague has made an immense leap in her logic,’ she began. ‘Ambassador Horst started as a tragic mourning father but has turned into a vee-drama supervillain! Such a vigorous method of reproach, such an active examination!’

Talavera positively glowed with a kind of combative wit while her adversary, Catriona, remained composed as she returned to her chair.

‘In fact the truth is that Horst was simply a good father. Not a perfect father, just a good one. And certainly, parents have a duty of care but when a child reaches its maturity how much responsibility do they still carry? Is a parent still responsible if their child murders someone? What if the child becomes a parent in their turn – is the grandparent responsible for the grandchild?’

Talavera’s demeanour was now level, compassionate with a dose of humorous puzzlement.

‘The truth is that Ambassador Horst and his wife did the best they could till, at last, their daughter was able to fly free on her own, make her own decisions, yes, and mistakes.’ She put one hand out towards Robert. ‘The truth is that the ambassador deserves our support and our sympathy, not condemnation. He has done nothing to feel guilty about – his daughter made up her own mind, she made her choice and the consequences were hers alone. Guilt lies with those whose fingers pull the triggers, whose hands hold the knife, or push the button, or measure out the poison. Only they are guilty … ’

‘But that’s not true.’

Every pair of eyes looked at him. Talavera turned her head to regard him, a cool smile on her lips, eyebrows arched slightly, as if awaiting an explanation. Robert could only speak the feelings that came from that old ache in his chest.

‘It’s not true because I still carry the guilt,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t matter how it’s explained, or how rationally or logically it’s interpreted, I know the fault is mine. I should have done something, done what was needed. But I didn’t … didn’t even try. So the guilt is still mine to carry.’

Smiling, Talavera shook her head and, without taking her eyes off Robert, made a sweeping gesture with her arm. The audience of Rosas and the other women vanished. Startled, Robert stared about him for a moment, then back at Talavera in a kind of slow-dawning comprehension.

‘Not so much an entrance as an unveiling,’ he said. ‘It’s a great honour to finally meet you.’

The Godhead shrugged. ‘Actually, it’s a little over a thousandth of me, but that still amounts to a considerable portion of my attention. Ever since you became involved with Darien and the Construct I’ve been watching the changes and quandaries you’ve managed to survive. The sheer resilience you’ve displayed has been inspiring, which is why this matter of guilt is so bothersome.’

The Godhead, looking like a woman called Talavera, came and sat on the arm of the chair next to Robert’s.

‘You see, this is all about body chemistry and mind-body image imprinting. Just as a child makes its parents part of its world, so too do parents with their offspring. You’ve admitted that the rational arguments are correct yet you still carry this terrible burden – well, that is nothing more than your mind-body image still trying to cope with the loss of a vestigial part, and the turbulence that it causes in your body chemistry.’ The woman laughed and patted his shoulder. ‘That’s it, that’s all. I hereby pronounce you innocent of all charges, by virtue of the powers invested in me by myself, et cetera.’

Robert gazed at this improbable personage, listening to its rationalisation for a guilt-free existence, wanting to shout in its face that his feelings weren’t merely the flow of chemicals in his bloodstream, yet held back by the urge for self-preservation.

‘I literally don’t know what to say,’ he muttered.

‘Then listen,’ the Godhead said. ‘My origins stretch back to the dawn of an earlier universe. I’ve seen empires and entire species rise and fall; some I’ve aided, others I’ve sabotaged. I’ve seen intellects of surpassing enlightenment pierce the workings of reality to the interlocking enigmas beneath, and I’ve seen minds full of blankness devise and build star-spanning tyrannies of regimented cruelty and turn whole planets into machines of pain.

‘And yet existence is not merely confined to cycles of struggle – there is also transcendence, the elevation to a higher plane of being. After a great many centuries of study I have found the way, Robert, and very soon I will ascend to a superior continuum. If you wish, you can accompany me.’

The Godhead watched him closely, dark eyes intently fixed upon him. How strange it was to hear such grandiose pronouncements and offers come from the lips of a black-haired Human woman. Yet Robert could sense the presence behind that stare, speculating that it consisted of a bit more than a thousandth of its colossal attention.

He swallowed. Time to throw self-preservation to the wind.

‘I’m humbled by this astonishing offer – I can hardly see how I could be considered worthy of such an honour … ’

‘You deserve it, Robert,’ Talavera said. ‘Down through the aeons, only a handful of sentients have reached the place where you now stand.’

‘Understanding this adds new lustre to my good fortune,’ Robert said as he moved round to sit on the back of the chair, gazing out at the city in the clouds. ‘But before I decide one way or another, I wonder if you could clarify a few puzzles for me.’

Talavera was still smiling, yet motionless in her regard. ‘Go on.’

‘The Vor and the Shyntanil, a pair of barbaric predatory species which you brought back from the brink of extinction … ’

‘Hardly relevant,’ Talavera cut in. ‘There are many subspecies and sophont offshoots performing a range of tasks for me, some of whom you would find highly commendable.’

Robert watched a soft billow of cloud pass through the towers and domes outside.

‘I do not doubt what you say – it’s just my experiences which raise these questions, but I’ll leave that one aside. Another thing which puzzled me was the vermax, which are apparently technivores, yet which are also your servants. Why would you use such creatures?’

‘Again, this is not relevant.’ Talavera stood, smile replaced by a dark look. ‘This strikes me as a technique of hesitation or even avoidance, Robert, this questioning and judging. Come now – I am offering you the ultimate prize, transcendence, an eternity of enlightenment, the chance to converse with those who have already ascended to a greater wisdom. My patience is wearing thin – you must choose!’

‘Oh fool, fool, powerful fool! – don’t you understand? He has already chosen!’

Snarling, Talavera turned towards the source of the voice. Robert looked also and laughed when he saw the drone Reski Emantes gliding smoothly across the empty auditorium, drawing near. The drone had returned to its original flattened ovoid shape,
only now its exterior shimmered with a beautiful polychromatic, shifting aura.

‘He has already chosen,’ the drone went on, ‘because he’s seen through you. Despite your godling powers and near-limitless array of elaborate spectacle, he has discerned the cold death force that lies at the root of your every thought and deed.’