The Night's Dawn Trilogy (188 page)

This was a threat which simply had to rank higher than individual concerns.

Then there was the flight itself.
Oenone
had never flown anywhere without Syrinx’s subliminal supervision, much less performed a swallow manoeuvre. Voidhawks could
fly without the slightest human input, of course. But as ever there was a big difference between theory and practice. They
identified so much with the needs and wishes of their captains.

The crew’s general affinity band had rung with a powerful cadence of relief when the first swallow manoeuvre passed off flawlessly.

Ruben knew he shouldn’t have doubted
Oenone
, but his own mind was eddying with worry. The sight of Syrinx’s injuries… And worse, her mind closed as if it were a flower
at night. Any attempt to prise below her churning surface thoughts had resulted in a squirt of sickening images and sensations.
Her sanity would surely suffer if she was left alone with such nightmares. Cacus had immediately placed her in zero-tau, temporarily
circumventing the problem.

Hello, Ruben,
Eden said.
It is pleasant to receive you again. Though I am saddened by the condition of Syrinx, and I sense that
Oenone
is suffering considerable distress.

Ruben hadn’t conversed directly with the original habitat for over forty years, not since his last visit. It was a trip which
most Edenists made at some time in their life. Not a pilgrimage (they would hotly deny that) but paying their respects, acknowledging
the sentimental debt to the founding entity of their culture.

That’s why I need to speak with you, Ruben said. Eden, we have a problem. Would you call a general Consensus, please?

There was no hierarchy in Edenism, it was a society proud of its egalitarianism; he could have made the same request of any
habitat. If the personality considered the request valid, it would be forwarded to the habitat Consensus, then if it passed
that vote, a general Consensus would be called, comprising every single Edenist, habitat, and voidhawk in the Sol system.
But for this issue, Ruben felt obliged to make his appeal direct to Eden, the first habitat.

He gave an account of what had happened on Atlantis, followed by the prÉcis which was Laton’s legacy. When he finished, the
affinity band was silent for several moments.

I will call for a general Consensus,
Eden said. The habitat’s mental voice was uncharacteristically studious.

Relief mingled with a curious frisson of worry among Ruben’s thoughts. At least the burden which
Oenone
’s crew had carried by themselves during the flight was to be shared and mitigated—the fundamental psychology of Edenism.
But what amounted to the habitat’s shock at the revelation of souls returning to possess the living was deeply unsettling.
Eden had been germinated in 2075, making it the oldest living entity in the Confederation. If anything had the requisite endowment
of wisdom to withstand such news then surely it must be the ancient habitat.

Disquieted by the habitat’s response, and chiding himself for expecting miracles, Ruben settled back in the acceleration couch
and used the voidhawk’s sensor blisters to observe their approach flight. They were already twenty-five thousand kilometres
from Europa, curving gently around its northern hemisphere. The moon’s ice mantle glinted a grizzled oyster as distant sunlight
skittered over its smooth surface, throwing off the occasional dazzling mirror-flash from an impact crater.

Behind the moon, Jupiter occluded half of the universe. They were close enough that the polar regions were invisible, distilling
the planet to a simple flat barrier of enraged orange and white clouds. The gas giant was in one of its more active phases.
Vast hurricane storm-spots geysered through the upper cloud bands, swirling mushroom formations bringing with them a multitude
of darker contaminates from the lower levels. Colours fought like armies along frenzied boundaries of intricate curlicues,
never winning, never losing. There was too much chaos for any one pattern or shade to gain the ultimate triumph of stability.
Even the great spots, of which there were now three, had lifetimes measurable in mere millennia. But for raw spectacle they
were unmatched. After five centuries of interstellar exploration, Jupiter remained one of the largest gas giants ever catalogued,
honouring its archaic title as the father of gods.

A hundred thousand kilometres in from Europa, the habitats formed their own unique constellation around their lord, drinking
down its magnetosphere energy, bathing in the tempestuous particle winds, listening to the wild chants of its radio voice,
and watching the ever-changing panorama of the clouds. They could never live anywhere else but above such worlds; only the
magnetic flux spun out by gas giants could generate the power levels necessary to sustain life within their dusky-crimson
polyp shells. There were four thousand two hundred and fifty mature habitats in Jupiter orbit, nurturing a total Edenist population
of over nine billion individuals. The second largest civilization in the Confederation—in numerical terms. Only Earth with
its guesstimated population of thirty-five billion was bigger. But the
standard
of civilization, in both economic and cultural terms, was peerless. Jupiter’s citizens had no underclass, no ignorance, no
poverty, and no misfits, barring the one-in-a-million Serpent who rejected Edenism in its entirety.

The reason for such enviable social fortune was Jupiter itself. To build such a society, even with affinity-enhancing psychological
stability, and bitek alleviating a great many mundane physical problems, required vast wealth. It came from helium3, the principal
fusion fuel used throughout the Confederation.

In comparison with other fuels, a mix of He3 and deuterium produced one of the cleanest fusion reactions possible, resulting
mainly in charged helium with an almost zero neutron emission. Such an end product meant that the generator systems needed
little shielding, making them cheaper to build. Superenergized helium was also an ideal space drive.

The Confederation societies were heavily dependent on this form of cheap, low-pollution fusion to maintain their socioeconomic
index. Fortunately deuterium existed in massive quantities; a common isotope of hydrogen, it could be extracted from any sea
or glacial asteroid. He3, however, was extremely rare in nature. The operation to mine it from Jupiter began in 2062 when
the then Jovian Sky Power Corporation dropped its first aerostat into the atmosphere to extract the elusive isotope in commercial
quantities. There were only minute amounts present, but minute is a relative term in the context of a gas giant.

It was that one tentative high-risk operation which had transformed itself, via political revolution, religious intolerance,
and bitek revelation into Edenism. And Edenists continued to mine He3 in every colonized star system which had a gas giant
(with the notable exception of Kulu and its Principalities), although cloudscoops had replaced aerostats long ago as the actual
method of collection. It was the greatest industrial enterprise in existence, and also the largest monopoly. And with the
format for developing stage one colony worlds now institutionalized, it looked set to remain so.

Yet as any student of ekistics could have predicted, it was Jupiter which remained the economic heart of Edenism. For it was
Jupiter which supplied the single largest consumer of He3: Earth and its O’Neill Halo. Such a market required a huge mining
operation, as well as its associated support infrastructure; and on top of that came their own massive energy requirements.

Hundreds of industrial stations flocked around every habitat, varying in size from ten-kilometre-diameter asteroidal mineral
refineries to tiny microgee research laboratories. Tens of thousands of spaceships congested local space, importing and exporting
every commodity known to the human and xenoc races of the Confederation—their assigned flight vectors weaving a sluggish,
ephemeral DNA coil around the five-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-kilometre orbital band.

By the time
Oenone
was two thousand kilometres away from Kristata, the habitat was becoming visible to its optical sensors. It shone weakly
of its own accord, a miniature galaxy with long, thin spiral arms. The habitat itself formed the glowing core of the nebula,
a cylinder forty-five kilometres long, rotating gently inside a corona of Saint Elmo’s fire sparked by the agitated particle
winds splashing across its shell. Industrial stations glimmered around it, static flashing in crazed patterns over external
girders and panels, their metallic structures more susceptible to the ionic squalls than bitek polyp. Fusion drives formed
the spiral arms, Adamist starships and inter-orbit craft arriving and departing from the habitat’s globe-shaped counter-rotating
spaceport.

A priority flight path had been cleared through the other ships, allowing
Oenone
to race past them towards the docking ledges ringing Kristata’s northern endcap, although the starship was actually decelerating
now, pushing seven gees. Ruben observed the habitat expand rapidly, its central band of starscrapers coming into focus. It
was virtually the only aspect of the external vista which had changed after travelling a hundred thousand kilometres from
their swallow emergence point. Jupiter remained exactly the same. He couldn’t even tell if they were closer to the gas giant
or not, there were no valid reference points. It seemed as though
Oenone
were flying between two flat plains, one comprised of ginger and white clouds, the other a midnight sky.

They swept around the counter-rotating spaceport and headed in for the northern endcap. The violet haze of glowing particles
was murkier here, disrupted by slithering waves of darkness as the energized wind broke and churned against the four concentric
docking ledge rings.
Oenone
experienced a prickle of static across its blue polyp hull as it slipped over the innermost ledge at a shallow tangent; for
a moment the tattered discharge mimicked the purple web pattern veining its hull surface. Then the bulky voidhawk was hovering
directly above a docking pedestal, slowly twisting around until the feed tubes were aligned correctly. It settled on the pedestal
with all the fuss of a falling autumn leaf.

A convoy of service vehicles rolled towards it. The ambulance was the first to reach the rim of the saucer-shaped hull, its
long airlock tube snaking out to mate with the crew toroid. Cacus was still discussing Syrinx’s status with the medical team
as the zero-tau pod containing her body was rolled into the ambulance.

Ruben realized
Oenone
was hungrily ingesting nutrient fluid from the pedestal tubes.
How are you?
he asked the voidhawk belatedly.

I am glad the flight is over. Syrinx can begin to heal now. Kristata says all the damage can be repaired. Many doctors are
part of its multiplicity. I believe what it says.

Yes, she’ll heal. And we can help. Knowing you are loved is a great part of any cure.

Thank you, Ruben. I am glad you are my friend, and hers.

Rising from his acceleration couch, Ruben felt a flush of sentiment and admiration at the voidhawk’s guileless faith. Sometimes
its simple directness was like a child’s honesty.

Edwin and Serina were busying themselves powering down the crew toroid’s flight systems, and supervising the service vehicles
as umbilicals were plugged into the ledge’s support machinery. Tula was already conversing with a local cargo depot about
storing the few containers remaining in the lower hull cradles. Everyone seemed to have acknowledged that they would be here
for some time, even
Oenone
.

Ruben thought of her injuries again and shivered in the bridge’s warm air.
I’d like to talk to Athene, please,
he asked the voidhawk. The final duty. Which he’d put off as long as possible, terrified Athene would pick up his shame.
He felt so responsible for Syrinx. If I hadn’t let her rush down there. If I’d gone with her…

Individuality is to be cherished,
the voidhawk told him stiffly.
She decides for herself.

He barely had time to form a rueful grin when he was aware of the voidhawk’s potent affinity reaching out across the solar
system to Saturn and the Romulus habitat.

It’s all right, my dear,
Athene told him as soon as they swapped identity traits.
She’s alive, and she has
Oenone
. That is enough no matter what the damage those fiends inflicted. She will come back to us.

You know?

Of course. I always know when one of
Iasius’s
children returns home, and
Oenone
informed me straightaway. Since Eden called for a Consensus I’ve been listening to the details.

There will be a general Consensus?

Certainly.

Ruben felt the old voidhawk captain’s lips assume an ironic smile.

You know,
she said,
we haven’t called one since Laton destroyed Jantrit. And now he’s back. I suppose there is a certain inevitability about it.

He was back,
Ruben said.
We really have seen the last of him now. It’s funny, in a way I almost regret his suicide, however noble. I think we’re going
to need that kind of ruthlessness in the weeks ahead.

The general Consensus took several minutes to gather; people had to be woken, others had to stop work. All across the solar
system Edenists merged their consciousness with that of their home habitats, which in turn linked together. It was the ultimate
democratic government, in which everyone not only voted but also contributed to and influenced the formation of policy.

Oenone
presented Laton’s prÉcis first, the message he had delivered to the Atlantean Consensus. He stood before them, a tall, handsome
man with Asian-ethnic features and black hair tied back in a small ponytail; dressed in an unfussy green silk robe, belted
at the waist, alone in a darkened universe. His studied attitude showed he knew they were his judges, and yet did not quite
care.