The Night's Dawn Trilogy (321 page)

“You haven’t visited for ages.”

“I know.” Kelly was almost crushed by the surge of emotion the girl triggered, the accusation in her tone. “I haven’t been
terribly well lately. I didn’t want you to see me the way I was.”

“Are you all right now?”

“Sure. I’m on the way back.”

“Good. You promised you’d show me around the studios you work in.”

“And I’ll keep it, too. Listen, Jay, I’ve got some really important questions. They’re about you and Haile.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“I need to know if you told Haile anything about Lalonde, especially in the last couple of days. It’s vital, Jay, honest.
I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

“I know.” She screwed up her lips, thinking hard. “There was some stuff about religion this morning. Haile doesn’t understand
it very well, and I’m not very good at explaining it.”

“What about religion, exactly?”

“It was how many gods there are. I’d told her about the Tyrathca’s Sleeping God temple, you know, the one you showed me, and
she wanted to know if that was the same thing as Jesus.”

“Of course,” Kelly hissed. “It wasn’t human possession, it was the Tyrathca section, we never released any of that.” She leaned
over and kissed Jay. “Thank you, poppet. You’ve just performed a miracle.”

“Was that
all?”

“Yeah. That was all.”

“Oh.”

“You snuggle down and get some sleep now. I’ll come visit tomorrow.” She helped pull Jay’s duvet back up and gave the girl
another kiss. Jay sniffed inquisitively again, but didn’t comment.

“So?” Kelly asked softly as she walked away from the bed. “You’ve been watching, you know this must be serious. I want to
talk to the Lord of Ruin.”

The pediatric ward’s net processor opened a channel to

Kelly’s neural nanonics. “Ione Saldana will see you now,”

Tranquillity datavised. “Please bring the relevant recordings.”

•  •  •

Despite being on what he considered excellent terms with the Lord of Ruin, Parker Higgens could still be chilled to the marrow
when she gave him one of her expectant looks. “But I don’t know anything about the Tyrathca, ma’am,” he complained. Being
dragged out of bed straight into a highly irregular crisis conference was playing havoc with his thought processes. Accessing
the sensevise recording of Coastuc-RT and seeing the strange silvery structure which the builder-caste Tyrathca had constructed
in the middle of the village didn’t contribute much to his composure, either.

When he glanced at Kempster Getchell for support he saw the astronomer’s eyes were closed as he accessed the recording a second
time.

“You’re the only xenoc specialists I’ve got, Parker.”

“Laymil specialists.”

“Don’t quibble. I need advice, and I need it fast. How important is this?”

“Well… I don’t think we knew the Tyrathca had a religion before this,” he ventured.

“We didn’t,” Kelly said. “I ran a full search program through the Collins office encyclopedia. It’s as good as any university
library. There’s no reference to this Sleeping God at all.”

“And neither did the Kiint, so it would seem,” Parker said. “They actually came and woke you to ask for the recording?”

“That’s right.”

Parker was somewhat put out by the reporter’s dishevelled appearance. She sat wedged into one corner of the sofa in Ione’s
private study, a thick cardigan tugged around her shoulders as if it were midwinter. For the last five minutes she had been
snatching up salmon sandwiches from a large plate balanced on the sofa’s arm, pushing them forcefully into her mouth.

“Well I have to say, ma’am, that it’s a relief to find out they don’t know everything.” A housechimp silently handed him a
cup of coffee.

“But is it relevant?” Ione asked. “Were they just so surprised they didn’t know about the Sleeping God myth that Lieria simply
rushed over to Kelly to confirm it? Or does it have some bearing on our current situation?”

“It’s not a myth,” Kelly said around another sandwich.

“That’s exactly what I said to Waboto-YAU; and it nearly set the soldiers on me for that remark. The Tyrathca believe absolutely
in their Sleeping God. Crazy race.”

Parker stirred his coffee mechanically. “I’ve never known the Kiint to be excited about anything. But then I’ve never known
them to be in a rush either, which they obviously were tonight. I think we should examine this Sleeping God in context. You
are aware, ma’am, that the Tyrathca do not have fiction? They simply do not lie, and they have a great deal of trouble understanding
human falsehoods. The nearest they ever come to lying is withholding information.”

“You mean there really is a Sleeping God?” Kelly asked.

“There has to be a core of truth behind the story,” Parker said. “They are a highly formalized clan species. Individual families
maintain professions and responsibilities for generations. Sireth-AFL’s family was obviously entrusted with the knowledge
of the Sleeping God. At a guess, I’d say that Sireth-AFL is a descendant of the family which used to deal with electronics
while they were on their arkship.”

“Then why not just store the memory electronically?” Kelly asked.

“It probably is stored, somewhere. But Coastuc-RT is a very primitive settlement, and the Tyrathca only ever use appropriate
technology. There will be Tyrathca families in that village who know exactly how to build fusion generators and computers,
but they don’t actually need them yet, therefore the information isn’t used. They employ water wheels and mental arithmetic
instead.”

“Weird,” Kelly said.

“No,” Parker corrected. “Merely logical. The product of a mind that is intelligent without being particularly imaginative.”

“Yet they were praying,” Ione said. “They believe in a God. That requires a leap of imagination, or at least faith.”

“I don’t think so,” Kempster Getchell said. He grinned around, clearly enjoying himself. “We’re messing about with semantics
here, and an electronic translator, which is never terribly helpful, it’s too literal. Consider when this God appeared in
their history. Human gods are derived from our pre-science era. There are no new religions, there haven’t been for thousands
of years. Modern society is far too sceptical to allow for prophets who have personal conversations with God. We have the
answer for everything these days, and if it isn’t recorded on a flek it’s a lie.

“Yet here we have the Tyrathca, who not only don’t lie, but encounter a God while they’re in a starship. They have the same
intellectual analytical tools as we do, and they still call it a God. And they
found
it. That’s what excites me, that’s what is so important to this story. It isn’t indegenous to their planet, it isn’t ancient.
One of their arkships encountered something so fearfully powerful that a race with the technology to travel between the stars
calls it a God.”

“That would also mean it isn’t exclusive to them,” Parker said.

“Yes. Although, whatever it is, it was benign, or even helpful to the arkship in question. They wouldn’t consider it to be
their
Sleeping God otherwise.”

“Powerful enough to defend the Tyrathca from possessed humans,” Ione said. “That’s what they claimed.”

“Yes indeed. A defence mounted from several hundred light-years distant, at least.”

“What the fuck could do that?” Kelly asked.

“Kempster?” Ione prompted as the old astronomer stared away at the ceiling.

“I have absolutely no idea. Although ‘sleeping’ does imply an inert status, which can be reversed.”

“By prayer?” Parker said sceptically.

“They thought it would be able to hear them,” Kempster said. “Stronger than all living things was what that breeder said.
Interesting. And that mirror-spire shape was supposed to be what it looked like. I’d like to say some kind of celestial event
or object, that would fit in finding it in deep space. Unfortunately, there is no natural astronomical object which resembles
that.”

“Take a guess,” Ione said icily.

“Powerful, and in space.” The astronomer’s face wrinkled up with effort. “Humm. Trouble is, we have no idea of the scale.
Some kind of small nebula around a binary neutron star; or a white hole emission jet—which might account for the shape. But
none of those are exactly inert.”

“Nor would they be much use against the possessed,” Parker said.

“But its existence is enough to fluster the Kiint,” Ione said. “And they can manufacture moons, plural.”

“Do you think it could help us?” Kelly asked the astronomer.

“Good point,” Kempster said. “A highly literal race thinks it can help them against the possessed. QED, it would be able to
do the same thing for us. Although the actual encounter must have taken place thousands of years ago. Who knows how much the
account had been distorted in that time, even by the Tyrathca? And if it was an event rather than an object, it would presumably
be finished by now. After all, Confederation astronomers have catalogued our galaxy pretty thoroughly; and certainly anything
odd within ten thousand light-years would be listed. Which is why I’m inclined to go for the inert object hypothesis. I must
say, this is a delightful puzzle you’ve brought to us, young lady; I’d love to know what they did actually find.”

Kelly made an impatiently dismissive gesture and leaned forward. “See?” she said to Ione. “This is critical, just like I said.
I’ve provided you with enough to go on. Haven’t I?”

“Yes,” Ione said with considerable asperity.

“Do I get my flight authorization?”

“What is this? What flight?” Parker asked.

“Kelly wishes to visit Jupiter,” Ione said. “To do that she needs my official authorization.”

“Do I get it?” Kelly was almost shouting.

Ione’s nose crinkled with distaste. “Yes. Now please be silent unless you have a cogent point to make.”

Kelly flung herself back into the sofa, a fearsome grin on her face.

Parker studied her for a moment, not at all liking what he found, but forwent any comment. “The evidence we have so far is
depressingly small, but to my mind it does seem to indicate that the Sleeping God is something other than a natural object.
Perhaps it is a functional Von Neumann machine, that would certainly have godlike abilities ascribed to it by any culture
with inferior technology. Or, I regret to say, some kind of ancient weapon.”

“A manufactured artefact which can attack the possessed over interstellar space. Now that really is an unpleasant thought,”
Kempster said. “Although the sleeping qualifier would admittedly be more pertinent in such a case.”

“As you say,” Ione said. “We don’t have nearly enough information to make anything other than wild guesses at this time. That
must be rectified. Our real problem is that the Tyrathca have severed all contact with us. And I really don’t think we have
any alternative but to ask them.”

“I would certainly advise we pursue that avenue, ma’am. The very possibility that the Sleeping God is real, and may even be
able to defeat the possessed on some level, warrants further investigation. If we could .. .” His voice died away as Ione
gripped the arms of her chair, blue eyes widening to express something Parker had never thought he would see there: horror.

•  •  •

Meredith Saldana drifted into the
Arikara’s
bridge; every one of the acceleration couches in the C&C section of the bridge was occupied as his staff officers dedicated
themselves to scanning and securing space around Mirchusko.

He slid onto his own acceleration couch and accessed the tactical situation computer. The flagship was hanging a thousand
kilometres off Tranquillity’s counter-rotating spaceport, with every sensor cluster and communications system extended. Some
spacecraft moved around the habitat’s spaceport and outlying industrial stations, a couple of blackhawks were curving around
the spindle to land on the outermost docking ledge, and three He3 cryogenic tankers were rising over the gas giant’s natural
rings en route for the habitat. Apart from that, the only ships flying were squadron members. The frigates were moving smoothly
into their englobing positions, forming a protective eight thousand kilometre sphere around Tranquillity, complementing the
habitat’s own formidable SD platforms. His squadron’s nine voidhawks were currently deployed right around the gas giant in
an attempt to probe the rings for any observation system or hidden ship. An unlikely event, but Meredith was aware of just
how much was riding on the Toi-Hoi ambush. When it came to this duty, he was a firm believer in the motto: I’m paranoid, but
am I paranoid enough?

“Lieutenant Grese, our current situation, please?” he asked.

“One hundred per cent on-line, sir,” the squadron intelligence officer reported. “All starship traffic is shut down. Those
blackhawks you can see docking are the last of the flight deploying sensor satellites looking for an energy displacement signature
from the Laymil home planet. All of them have obeyed the recall order. We’re allowing personnel commuters and tugs to fly
out to the industrial stations providing we’re informed of their movements in advance. Tranquillity is supplying us with a
direct feed from its SD sensor network, which is extremely comprehensive out to one million kilometres. Our only problem with
that is that it doesn’t appear to have any gravitonic distortion detectors.”

Meredith frowned. “That’s ridiculous, how does it detect emerging starships?”

“I’m not sure, sir. We did ask, but it just said we’re receiving the full datavise from each sensor satellite. My only explanation
is that the Lord of Ruin doesn’t want us to know the habitat’s full detection capability.”

Which wasn’t something Meredith believed. Somewhat to his surprise, he’d been quite impressed by his young cousin; especially
as he’d gone in to meet her with a lot of firmly held preconceptions. He’d been forced to revise most of them under her unyielding
dignity and astute political grasp. One thing he was sure of, if she was deliberately imposing limits on her cooperation she
wouldn’t be duplicitous about it.