Flux - Xeelee Sequence Part 33

"But you'll die," he said, hearing a plea in his voice. "These wretched people can never survive anyway. There's no point..."

She pulled her arm from his grasp. She looked back into the ward, as if all this had been a mere distraction from her work.

When he placed his hand on the crude doorframe he felt a deep, shuddering vibration, coming from the very bones of the City, and s.h.i.+vers of turbulence crept across the bare skin of his arms and neck.

Maybe it was already too late. He pulled himself through the improvised doorway and into the open Air.

He looked back into the ward. Deni Maxx was making her way back into the chaos of patients and helpers, her face set. Already she'd dismissed his warning. Forgotten it, probably. But Farr still lingered close to the doorway; he looked back into the ward, apparently torn.

Well, Deni was lost; but not Farr. Not yet.

Adda grabbed Farr by the hair and, with all his remaining strength, hauled the boy backward out of the Hospital and hurled him into the Air. Farr came to rest in the empty Air, struggling; he looked like some stranded insect, dwarfed by the immense, wounded face of the City. He glared at Adda. "You had no right to do that."

"I know. I know. know. You'll just have to hate me, Farr. Now Wave, d.a.m.n you; Wave as hard as you've ever Waved in your life!" You'll just have to hate me, Farr. Now Wave, d.a.m.n you; Wave as hard as you've ever Waved in your life!"

There was a glow from the North, a deep, ominous red glow from all around the sky. It was a light Adda had never seen before. It soaked the Mantle in a darkness in which the starbreakers of the Xeelee glowed like opened-up logs.

Another shout of tearing wood and failing Corestuff was wrenched from the guts of the City. The Skin rippled; rippled; waves perhaps a micron high spread over its surface, and the wood broke open in tiny explosions. waves perhaps a micron high spread over its surface, and the wood broke open in tiny explosions.

Adda dropped his head and kicked at the seething Air, Waving away from Parz as hard as he could.

The Ring was reduced by distance to a sparkling jewel, lovely and fragile.

"I believed most of it," Dura said slowly, "most of the stories my father told me... But I don't think I ever quite believed in the Ring itself."

Bolder's Ring, the greatest engineering construct in the universe. So ma.s.sive - rotating so rapidly - that it had ripped a hole in s.p.a.ce itself.

"The Ring is a doorway in the universe, a way for the Xeelee to escape their unknown foe," she told Hork.

His fists clenched; dwarfed by the huge sky around him, his belligerence looked absurd. "I know your legends. But what foe?" He crowded close to Karen Macrae and drove his fist into the cloud of jostling cubes which comprised her face. His hand pa.s.sed through, apparently unaffected. "What foe, d.a.m.n you?"

Slowly Karen Macrae began to talk, the globes in her eyecups glinting. She spoke hesitantly, in fragments.

The Star was sp.a.w.ned in a galaxy, galaxy, a disc of a hundred billion stars. It was actually ancient, the cooling remnant of an immense explosion which had driven away much of a ma.s.sive star's bulk and devastated the gray companion which still accompanied it. As time wore on the Star had drawn material from the companion, knitted gas into planets. a disc of a hundred billion stars. It was actually ancient, the cooling remnant of an immense explosion which had driven away much of a ma.s.sive star's bulk and devastated the gray companion which still accompanied it. As time wore on the Star had drawn material from the companion, knitted gas into planets.

Then the Ur-humans came.

They downloaded the Colonists - images of themselves - into the Core; and the Colonists built the first Star-humans.

For five centuries the Colonists and the Star-humans worked together. Huge engines - discontinuity drives, discontinuity drives, Karen called them - were built at the North Pole of the Star. Teams of Star-humans wielded mighty devices under the instruction of the Colonists. Karen called them - were built at the North Pole of the Star. Teams of Star-humans wielded mighty devices under the instruction of the Colonists.

Hork's eyes narrowed. "Ah," he breathed. "So they do do need us, these Colonists. We are the hands, the strong arms which built the world..." need us, these Colonists. We are the hands, the strong arms which built the world..."

The discontinuity drive engines hurled the Star from its birthplace. It soared out of its galaxy and sailed free across s.p.a.ce.

The Ring was close to the Star's native galaxy - so close that light would take no more than ten thousand years to cross the void to the Ring, Karen Macrae said; so close that the immense ma.s.s of the Ring was already distorting the galaxy's structure, pulling it apart. The Star - with its companion, its planets and gas ring, and its precious freight of life - fell across s.p.a.ce toward the Ring, glowing in the darkness like a wood-burning torch.

A century pa.s.sed inside the Star. Thousands of years fluttered by in the universe outside the Crust. (Dura could make nothing of this.) The Ring neared.

The Colonists grew afraid. The Star-humans grew afraid.

"Why?" Dura demanded. "Why should they fear the Ring? What will happen when we reach it?"

The Colonists retreated into the Core. They had constructed a wonderful virtual world for themselves in there - unreal Earths... And they believed they would be safe there, that they could ride out any disaster which might befall the Star.

The Star-humans were left bereft in the Mantle like abandoned children. They had their wormholes and other gadgets, but without the guidance of the parent-Colonists the devices were like so many gaudy toys.

Resentment grew, displacing fear. The Star-humans determined that they would follow the Colonists into their Core haven if they could - or if not, they would make the complacent Colonists as fearful as themselves.

Wormhole Interfaces were ripped from their anchor-sites in the Mantle and hurled downward into the Core. Armies, grim-faced, lanced through the wormholes in improvised s.h.i.+ps. The technologies which had once built the discontinuity drives were pirated to craft immense weapons.

"The Core Wars," Hork said slowly. "Then they really happened."

Hork's anger was intense; it was as if, Dura thought, the huge injustice of abandonment had occurred only yesterday, not generations before.

The Colonists, insubstantial Core-ghosts as they were, had nevertheless retained immense material power. The War was brief.

Power failed; weapons exploded, or dissolved, killing their operators. The Interfaces were dragged into the Core, or fell into uselessness, their linking wormhole tunnels collapsed. Once the Mantle had sustained a single community of Star-humans, united by the wormhole network. In a few heartbeats that Star-wide culture collapsed.

Humans, naked, defenseless, fell into the Air.

A huge silence fell over the Star.

With the War ended, the Colonists retreated into the Core and prepared for eternal life.

Hork pounded his fist into his palm. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. The cowardly b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. They abandoned us, to generations of suffering. Illness, disease, Glitches. But we showed them. We built Parz City, didn't we? We survived. And now, five centuries after dumping us, they need us again..."

Dura couldn't drag her eyes away from the Ring. Lights flickered over the huge construct, dancing silently. "What's happening to the Ring? I don't understand."

Hork snorted. "Isn't it obvious? The Ring is under attack. It's a war, Dura; someone is attacking the Xeelee."

He pointed at the incongruously delicate patterns of light. "And it would be too much of a coincidence for us to arrive here, aboard this Star, just as the first battle is being waged. Dura, this war - the a.s.saults on the Ring - must have been enduring for a long time." He rubbed his chin. "Generations, perhaps; centuries of war..."

She felt a pulse pound in her throat. "Humans? Are they Ur-human s.h.i.+ps?" She stared at the tableau, willing herself to see more clearly, seeking the huge s.h.i.+ps of those spectral giants.

The battle unfolded, slowly, even as she watched. Some of the sparkling s.h.i.+ps disappeared, evidently destroyed by Xeelee defenders. Others plummeted through the Ring, she saw; and if the old stories were correct those s.h.i.+ps were now lost in different universes. She wondered if the crews of those s.h.i.+ps would survive... and if they did, what strange tales they would have to tell.

"Oh, yes," Hork said grimly. "Yes, the a.s.sailants are humans. Ur-humans, anyway."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because the Star is heading straight for the Ring. heading straight for the Ring. Don't you see it yet, Dura? The Star has been aimed at the Ring. We're going to collide with it..." Don't you see it yet, Dura? The Star has been aimed at the Ring. We're going to collide with it..."

Dura stared at the remote, twinkling battlefire. Was Hork right? "I don't know how big the Ring is. Perhaps it's bigger than the Star; perhaps it will survive. But surely the Star is going to be devastated."

Hork raised his fists to his chest. "No wonder the Xeelee have been attacking the Star; they're trying to destroy it before it gets to the Ring. Dura, the Star has been launched on this trajectory, straight at the Xeelee artifact, as a missile." missile." His tone had become hushed, almost reverent. Dura looked at him curiously; his eyes were locked on the images of distant battle, evidently fascinated. His tone had become hushed, almost reverent. Dura looked at him curiously; his eyes were locked on the images of distant battle, evidently fascinated.

She wondered if he were still quite sane. The thought disturbed her.

So that is why we are here, she thought. she thought. That's the purpose of the whole project. The Colonists, the manufacture of Star-humans... That is the meaning, the purpose of my race. My life. That's the purpose of the whole project. The Colonists, the manufacture of Star-humans... That is the meaning, the purpose of my race. My life.

We are expendable weapons' manufacturers, serving a huge war beyond our comprehension.

And when the Star destroyed itself against the Ring - or was destroyed first, by the Xeelee starbreakers - then they would all die with it, their purpose fulfilled.

No.

The word was like a shout in the turmoil of her mind. She had to do do something. something.

Without allowing herself to think about the consequences, she Waved briskly across the chamber toward the floating control seat.

"What are you doing? Dura, there's nothing we can do here. We're in the grip of immense forces; forces we barely understand. And..."

She took her place in the seat. Around her the ghostly Ur-human seat swiveled, trembling in response to her touch. She grasped the twin handles fixed to the seat's arms.

A globe swelled into existence in the Air, fat and sullen red; a neat grid covered its surface, laid out like the anchor-bands around Parz City.

Dura, startled by this sudden apparition, lost her nerve; she screamed.

Hork laughed at her. His voice, thin and shrill, betrayed his own tension. "d.a.m.n it, Dura, you've just witnessed a battle, immense beyond our capacity to comprehend. You've learned that our world is doomed. And yet you're scared by a simple conjuring trick like this!"

"But what is it?"

The globe was about a mansheight across; it hovered just in front of the seat. "Isn't it obvious?" Hork snapped. "Take your hands off the levers." She did so; the globe persisted for a few seconds, then deflated gracelessly, finally disappearing. "It's an aid," Hork said briskly. "Like..." He gestured vaguely. "Like a window in an Air-car. An aid to a pilot."

She tried to focus on this new puzzle. She glanced across the chamber and out at the Star, that scowling yellow-red speck at the center of its immense setting of gas and light. "But that globe looked like the Star itself."

Hork laughed, the shrill edge still present in his voice; his eyecups were wide with excitement. "Of course it did! Don't you see? Dura, one is meant to pilot the Star pilot the Star with these wonderful levers..." with these wonderful levers..."

"But that's absurd," she protested. "How can a Star - a whole world - be driven, directed like one of your Air-cars?"

"But, my dear, someone has already done so. already done so. The Star has been launched at the Ring, with deliberate intent. That we have found a device to do this is hardly a surprise. And this is a map-Star, to help you pilot a world..." The Star has been launched at the Ring, with deliberate intent. That we have found a device to do this is hardly a surprise. And this is a map-Star, to help you pilot a world..."

She grasped the handles again and the globe sprang into existence, wide, delicate and ominous. She gathered her scattered courage. "Hork, we can't let our world be destroyed."

He moved closer to her. His eyecups were wide and empty, his breathing shallow. He seemed huge. His hands were held away from his body. She closed her fingers tighter around the chair handles, watching, half-expecting him to lunge at her.

"Dura, get out of the chair. For a thousand years our Star has crossed s.p.a.ce. We have a duty to fulfill, a destiny."

She shook her head. "You've lost yourself in this, Hork. In the glamour of it all... It's not our battle."

He frowned at her, his bearded face a ferocious mask. "If it wasn't for the battle we wouldn't even exist. Generations of humans have lived, died and suffered for this moment. This is the purpose of our race, its apotheosis! I see this now... How can a person like you take the fate of a world in your hands?"

"But I can't - accept accept - this. I've got to try something. We must try to save ourselves." - this. I've got to try something. We must try to save ourselves."

Doubt - a kind of longing - spread across Hork's broad face. "Then consider this. Suppose we're right. Suppose our world really is a missile aimed at the Xeelee. Then - if it really is possible to aim the Star with this device - why is the device here?" why is the device here?"

She was frightened of him - not just physically, but of this new, unexpected side of his character, this self-immolating fanaticism.

"Think," he demanded. "If you were the designer, the Ur-human who planned this fantastic mission, what would you intend the occupant of that seat to do, now, at the climax of the project?"

She hesitated, thinking. "It's meant to be used to refine the trajectory. To direct the Star even more precisely at its goal."

He threw his arms wide. "Exactly. Perhaps there are devices lying dormant here, messages instructing us - or whoever was planned to be here - how to do just that. And what if we don't, Dura? what if we don't, Dura? What if we don't complete our mission? Perhaps the Ur-humans themselves will intervene, to punish our arrogance." What if we don't complete our mission? Perhaps the Ur-humans themselves will intervene, to punish our arrogance."

Her palms were slick with sweat; his words were like the articulation of the conflict inside her. Who was she to decide the fate of a world, of generations?

She thought back over her life, the extraordinary, unfolding sequence of events that had led her to this point. Once, not a very large fraction of her life ago, she had been adrift in the Mantle, at the mercy of the smallest stray Glitch along with the rest of the Human Beings. Stage by stage, as events had taken her so far from her home, her understanding of the Mantle, the Star, and the role of mankind had opened out, like the layers of perception opened up gradually by the seeing-walls of this Ur-human construct.

And now she was here, with more power over events than any human since the days of the Core Wars. She was dizzy, vertiginous, a feeling she remembered from her first trips to the fringes of the Crust-forest, as a little girl with her father.

Her awareness seemed to implode. She became aware of her body - of the wide, dilated pores over her skin, the tension in her muscles, the knife still tucked into the frayed rope tight around her waist. She looked into Hork's wide, staring eyes. She saw recklessness there, exhilaration, intoxication, the fringes of insanity. Hork, overwhelmed by the journey, the realm of Ur-humans, Colonists and stars, had forgotten who he was. She hadn't. She knew who she was: She knew who she was: Dura, Human Being, daughter of Logue - no more, and no less. And she was no more, no less qualified to speak for the peoples of the Star, at this moment, than anyone else. And that was why it was she who would have to act, now. Dura, Human Being, daughter of Logue - no more, and no less. And she was no more, no less qualified to speak for the peoples of the Star, at this moment, than anyone else. And that was why it was she who would have to act, now.

Her uncertainty congealed into determination. "Hork, I don't care about the goals of these d.a.m.n monster-men from the past. All I care about are my people - Farr, my family, the rest of the Human Beings. I won't sacrifice them for some ancient conflict; not while I have some hope of changing things."

The wide, distorted mouth of Karen Macrae was opening again; as she spoke, Dura saw, distracted by the detail, that Karen's lips were not quite synchronized with her rustling words.

Time is long, inside our virtual world. But still, it is coming to an end. The Glitches have damaged us. Some have already lost coherence.

Stop the flight. We discover we do not want to die.

Dura closed her eyes and shuddered. The Colonists could no longer act. And so they had brought Star-humans - they had brought her her - to this place, to save their world. - to this place, to save their world.

When she looked at Hork he was grinning, throwing his head back like some animal. "Very well, upfluxer. It seems I am outvoted, and not for the first time - although it doesn't usually stop me. We are humans too, whatever our origins, and we must act, rather than die meekly as p.a.w.ns in somebody else's war!" He shouted, "Do it!"

She cried out; she felt remote, numb. She hauled on the levers as hard as she could.

Crimson fire erupted from the base of the map-Star.

27.

BLUE XEELEE LIGHT ILLUMINATED the Air. Fragments of shattered vortex lines hailed around Adda. He Waved furiously, squirming in the Air to avoid the deadly sleet, disregarding the pain in his back and legs. But even Waving wasn't reliable; the strength and direction of the Magfield was changing almost whimsically, and he had to be constantly aware of its newest orientation, of which way his Waving would take him among the lethal vortex fragments.

He came to a clearer patch of Air. He twisted, his hips and lower back protesting, and Waved to a halt. He looked back toward the City, now about a thousand mansheights away. The great wooden carca.s.s was tilting noticeably, leaning across a Magfield which no longer cradled it. Its Skin was still a hive of activity, of kicked-out panels and scrambled evacuations; Adda was reminded of corruption, of swarms of insects picking over a dying face.

There was no sign of Farr.

Adda looked back to the upper Downside, to the location of the Hospital. He could see motion inside that widened gash in the Skin, but he couldn't make out Farr himself. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n... d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n... He shouldn't have let go of the boy; he should have dragged him physically away from the City, from the d.a.m.n Hospital, until either his strength ran out or the City fell apart anyway. He shouldn't have let go of the boy; he should have dragged him physically away from the City, from the d.a.m.n Hospital, until either his strength ran out or the City fell apart anyway.

I'm an old man, d.a.m.n it. He'd had enough; he'd seen enough. Now all he wanted was rest. He'd had enough; he'd seen enough. Now all he wanted was rest.

Well, it looked as if he still had work to do. Shaking his head, he dipped his body in the Air and Waved back toward the groaning City.