Dakota shook her head wearily. 'I don't know how I did it. I just-'

'Did it without even really thinking?'

Dakota averted her gaze, her expression defiant as the Shoal-member drifted closer.

'Upon us the Magi attempted most foul seduction, dearest Dakota. When first they arrived from faraway skies, they offered to us the pleasure of hunting the Maker caches by their side, through nebulous reef and abyssal depth. And, yet, any one of their ships was equal to our entire civilization at that time.

'No, what they most wanted, in its entirety, was to regain the lofty heights of their civilization, to build new temples and palaces and wonders even to rebuild their empires in place of our own. Oh, Dakota, it would have been grand beyond imagining. But it would have been their their empire, yes, not ours. Only ever in their shadows would we then live, and only upon their sufferance.' empire, yes, not ours. Only ever in their shadows would we then live, and only upon their sufferance.'

'So you destroyed them?'

'In order to protect ourselves! It was necessary to be cunning, to engage in conspiracies that lasted half a millennium while they repaired and maintained part of their fleet. Meanwhile, other ships of their fleet - we never knew just how many - scattered themselves throughout this fair spiral arm of ours, caught up in their grand quest.'

After a pause, he continued. 'And, for all their lofty ambitions, we found the means to subvert their systems and kill them from great distances. A few of their ships escaped from our world and were hunted down one by one, and continue, Dakota, to be hunted long after their navigators have become dust. Look there.'

Dakota looked up and saw a star simulation materialize out of the darkness around them: the Milky Way as seen from high above the galactic plane. Trader next caused their point of view to zoom in first towards the familiar glittering band of the Orion Arm, and then on the familiar borders of Consortium and Bandati s.p.a.ce. Markers appeared signifying Earth, Redstone, Nova Arctis, Bellhaven, Ocean's Deep and finally Night's End.

A line next appeared, cutting tangentially first through the Bandati territories and then through those of the Consortium, curving slightly as it did so. The line originated from deep within the galaxy, before zooming out into the relatively starless regions of the outer rim.

'Witness the path along which the last Magi chose to flee from our system. And also direct your attention upon both Nova Arctis and Ocean's Deep,' Trader continued, 'which, you will observe, lie close to that very same path, as does the world briefly occupied by the Uchidans.'

Dakota nodded, studying the map with undisguised fascination. It was clear that the fleet had also pa.s.sed through the territories of other species with which she was less familiar - particularly the Rafters and Skelites.

'We suspect,' Trader continued, 'the vessel secreted within the Ocean's Deep system might very well prove to be the last of its kind. Others may yet lie hidden, but their existence lies outside the realms of verification.'

Dakota moved closer to the walls of the chamber, drawing her fingers across the mult.i.tude of stars represented. Other, nameless, territories lay beyond the Rafters and Skelites, as tantalizing as they were unknown. Home, no doubt, to further species with whom humanity had been forbidden contact.

'So there might might be more of them?' she asked, turning back to Trader. be more of them?' she asked, turning back to Trader.

'May be, yes. Yet their navigators are dead, dead, dead, and their ships lost and adrift far and wide across an entire spiral arm. It is to be most readily a.s.sumed that the vast majority will almost certainly have been destroyed by time's slow and steady hand.' be, yes. Yet their navigators are dead, dead, dead, and their ships lost and adrift far and wide across an entire spiral arm. It is to be most readily a.s.sumed that the vast majority will almost certainly have been destroyed by time's slow and steady hand.'

Dakota wondered about that, for she had begun to feel a presence both familiar and new floating at the edge of her awareness: the Ocean's Deep derelict reaching out to her.

She had to fight to keep her voice steady as she spoke. 'We're at Ocean's Deep already, aren't we?'

'Indeed, our travels are done,' Trader replied, 'and our coreship set sail to that star's far light during these last few minutes. Within a pa.s.sing moment, you and I, we will pa.s.s through this great ship's centre, to join a fleet that will snare and destroy the unwary Emissaries.'

The huge eyes stared down at Dakota questioningly. 'You understand your role in all of this? You can prevent the derelict here from falling to the Emissaries. You will then deliver it to me, so that the Shoal may seek to stem the fount of forbidden knowledge from which the Emissaries seek to drink.'

Dakota shook her head, incredulous. 'And you really think I'm going to bring the derelict to you? I already know what you did to the Magi.' She laughed. 'Sometimes you almost sound convincing, but most of the time I just wonder how you think I could believe your bulls.h.i.t.'

Trader moved closer again, until his field-bubble hovered millimetres from Dakota's face. 'By careful implementation of technologies manifestly dangerous in fins of lesser forms, the Shoal most demonstrably are the only force capable of maintaining peace and preventing war. Once you brought the derelict to Night's End, were you not tortured, imprisoned, and made witness to the outbreak of war between two great Hives? And so it would always be, should control lie outside our grasp. Upon reaching the derelict, dear Dakota, you will endeavour to bring it to the coreship, and thence will it travel at last to the Shoal home world, where its knowledge may be studied in safety.'

Dakota's reply was calm. 'I already destroyed one derelict. And I'll destroy this one, too, before I let you or anyone else get control of it.'

'Would you indeed?' asked Trader, moving up to the edge of the field-bubble that was closest to her. His fins and manipulators wafted gently as he floated closer. 'Or have you finally succ.u.mbed to the seductive voices whispering to you from within this newfound derelict? To whom or what, I wonder, do your loyalties now actually lie?'

Dakota felt her face grow hot. 'Go to h.e.l.l.'

'Most certainly, given time. The structures in your brain, Dakota, mark you now as a Magi navigator, however much you might deceive yourself that you are still human. That you would try to flee upon reaching this latest Magi ship is a given, hence the necessity of making certain that you then do with it only what the Shoal and I wish.'

Dakota took a breath and ducked her head down defensively, her voice trembling surprisingly little. 'I already told you to go to h.e.l.l, Trader. There's nothing you can do to make me follow your orders.'

'Excuse me that I should be so bold, but may I a.s.sume you are at least pa.s.singly familiar with the history of the First Civil War on your own world of Bellhaven?'

Dakota stared back at the Shoal-member. 'What?'

'If you will please recall, State and Church struggled more than once for control of your world. The Elders fought hard to gain victory and yet, if not for a healthy trade in technologies with other worlds throughout the vastness of the Consortium, Bellhaven might easily have slipped into obscurity and political chaos. Praise be, then,' Trader concluded, 'that so few of their stockpiled nuclear weapons were ever used.'

'Get to the point,' Dakota snarled between gritted teeth.

'Near-orbital s.p.a.ce around Bellhaven is littered with the ruins of military platforms, some of them centuries old. Many are heavily irradiated, so that to approach them is not permitted. This, supposedly, is because they are tainted with the active remnants of biological or nanotechnological weaponry. The truth is perhaps more complicated.'

Trader navigated his bubble back across the narrow viewing chamber, casting his gaze again across the face of the galaxy. 'It is of no surprise to man or fish that many of those platforms have been secretly maintained to this day. To acquire the requisite launch codes proved scandalously easy, and your world does not lack in competing factions to take the blame for a sudden all-out strike upon the Free States. Which, I do believe,' Trader added with relish, 'include your own city-state of Erkinning.'

Dakota stared back with frightened eyes. 'You wouldn't dare.'

Trader's tentacles wriggled with amus.e.m.e.nt. 'That I might guarantee your cooperation? I cannot help but feel disappointment that, despite our acquaintance, you would yet underestimate me. Do only as I require, and your world will be safe.'

Dakota crouched on the floor and fought back tears of frustration. Too much was happening too quickly. n.o.body could be expected to carry such a burden of responsibility.

The breath hissed between her teeth as she fought for control. She despised feeling so powerless, so, so . . .

Human ?

She pushed that thought away and realized that the image of the galaxy was beginning to fade from around them once more, to be replaced by a fresh view of the lightless ocean. Directly ahead lay three tiny points of light, at first bunched close together but spreading apart with increasing speed, and getting closer to their viewpoint. She guessed the yacht was now approaching another pa.s.sageway, which presumably led back up towards the coreship's outer layers.

'Just tell me what you want me to do,' Dakota muttered listlessly.

'An Emissary Fleet arrived within Ocean's Deep during these last few hours. At the heart of that fleet is a vessel known as a G.o.dkiller, and it is considered to be extremely formidable. This Shoal-member, with the utmost certainty, can inform you that both Lucas Corso and the Piri Reis Piri Reis are inside this G.o.dkiller, accompanied by a much smaller Immortal Light fleet. In these circ.u.mstances, and with threats of destruction hanging over the skies of your homeland, your path from this moment on must surely be clear.' are inside this G.o.dkiller, accompanied by a much smaller Immortal Light fleet. In these circ.u.mstances, and with threats of destruction hanging over the skies of your homeland, your path from this moment on must surely be clear.'

Dakota stood as the Shoal-member's field-bubble began to rise up through the chamber. 'I'll kill you!' she screamed up at him. 'I swear it, Trader!'

'I imagine the derelict's song must be sweet,' he replied from far above her. 'Listen to it, dear Dakota, and entwine yourself in its song. You and I will meet again when you return with the derelict and, if your thirst for revenge is as yet unabated, perhaps I may even allow you the opportunity to confront me. But first you have a long journey ahead of you. Be prepared.'

And with that, Trader slipped back the way he had come, through a ceiling pa.s.sageway, leaving her alone. The Ocean's Deep derelict whispered to her, yes, like a long-lost lover, and she realized that Trader had been entirely right in one respect. She could never destroy a Magi ship again; without its presence in her mind and her thoughts, she had felt more alone than she could have imagined possible. Even losing her original implants had never been so hard.

Before the map of the galaxy had faded, Dakota had felt some exterior force directing her gaze to the unmarked territories lying beyond the Magi's route . . . towards the dim lights of countless barren stars scattered across the face of the galaxy.

And, as she did so, knowledge came to her; and with it a revelation.

She sat in the darkness for a while, her mind numb, and then she began to grin.

Either she'd finally gone completely insane ... or she finally had an inkling of just what the Magi intended for her.

Eighteen Several hours before Dakota's encounter with the Queen of Darkening Skies, Corso awoke from a feverish dream to the sound of a ship's alert blaring.

He'd dreamt he was back on Redstone, back on the icy sh.o.r.es of Fire Lake, facing a deadly opponent, and with a knife gripped in one hand. But instead of Bull Northcutt, he found himself confronted with a creature that was little more than a vague blur.

His knife flashed in the subzero cold, but whenever he tried to make out his opponent's face, it remained indistinct. Its angles and shadows kept slithering past each other in an indistinguishable blur. And as he shifted and turned and dodged, never quite able to get close enough to inflict any damage, he slowly realized he was actually fighting one of the Magi.

He had fallen asleep inside a programming suite that had been hastily a.s.sembled for him, and when he opened his eyes it was to a series of projections displaying the fragments of protocol he'd pulled out of the Piri Reis's Piri Reis's stacks. His work had been made that much harder by the fact that the programming interfaces hadn't been designed with humans in mind, so he'd had to hack about with the equipment for a while until he had a.s.sembled something he could actually make use of. stacks. His work had been made that much harder by the fact that the programming interfaces hadn't been designed with humans in mind, so he'd had to hack about with the equipment for a while until he had a.s.sembled something he could actually make use of.

But not too quickly, of course. That would never do.

The alert - a steady, almost subsonic thrumming - was not unexpected. A few days had pa.s.sed since they had departed Ironbloom, and Honeydew had warned him that, although they would be reaching the culmination of their deceleration before very long, he should strap himself into a gel-chair provided for him. This made little sense, since deceleration would normally be followed by weightlessness; nevertheless he strapped himself in, once the alarm began to sound, and waited.

After half an hour of waiting in the gel-chair, Corso started to get bored. Perhaps, he thought, they were going to transport him down to the surface of some other world in the Night's End system, somewhere the derelict was presumably kept.

But instead the weightlessness was suddenly replaced by gravity somewhat stronger than the point-eight Terran gees of Redstone. He knew they weren't accelerating, so he guessed they were in an artificial gravity field of the kind used regularly by the Shoal.

He pa.s.sed the time considering his options. It was impossible to be sure if Honey dew believed one word of his excuses, but ever since his encounter with the Piri Reis Piri Reis he'd been left very much to his own devices. he'd been left very much to his own devices.

Yet, instead of working on rebuilding the protocols he'd sabotaged, he'd spent his time trying to work out what had happened to the Piri Reis, Piri Reis, and if there was any purpose to the baffling alterations to its core systems. and if there was any purpose to the baffling alterations to its core systems.

Corso eventually levered himself out of the gel-chair and stood upright, feeling as if a million tiny hands were trying to drag him down onto the floor. Before very long, two Bandati entered the suite and pulled him away from where he'd been working. The Bandati lacked interpreters, so they were reduced to clicking at him futilely for a few moments before grabbing him by the shoulders and marching him along the ship's corridors.

Game's up, he thought. he thought. They know I tricked them. They know I tricked them.

He soon realized he was being led back to the docking bays where the Piri Reis Piri Reis was stored, but this time they took him to a much larger bay that was entirely empty, bar an enormous sculpture of jagged black gla.s.s that had to be the size of a city block. was stored, but this time they took him to a much larger bay that was entirely empty, bar an enormous sculpture of jagged black gla.s.s that had to be the size of a city block.

Only it wasn't a sculpture, he registered after a few moments' contemplation. It was a ship of a kind he'd never seen before.

A hatch opened in the side of the craft, and something emerged. Something big, big, and mean-looking. It reminded him of an elephant crossed with a sea-urchin - a very angry one, too. It loped rapidly towards them, as if intending to attack, and Corso developed an overwhelming urge to turn and run the other way. and mean-looking. It reminded him of an elephant crossed with a sea-urchin - a very angry one, too. It loped rapidly towards them, as if intending to attack, and Corso developed an overwhelming urge to turn and run the other way.

'Stay very still,' said a voice from behind his shoulder.

He'd started struggling with his two guards, desperate to flee to some small, safe dark corner where he could hide from big, angry-looking monsters. Somewhere in his panic he'd realized there was a tiny figure perched on top of the monster, but that observation didn't make him any less terrified.

He managed to twist around to see who had spoken, despite the firm grip the two guards still had on him. Honeydew was standing directly behind him, staring past Corso towards the monster. He turned back and watched as it came stamping to within a few metres of them before finally, mercifully, coming to a halt.

Corso found himself confronted by a vast, dripping maw, flanked by twin in-curving tusks. A spiked carapace encompa.s.sed the upper body of the monster, which looked capable of skewering a Tyrannosaurus rex, a.s.suming the T-rex lacked the good sense to turn and run on sight. What had resembled an elephant's trunk from a distance now revealed itself to be a tight knot of about a dozen long and narrow tentacles dangling down between the creature's eyes. Some of these appendages reached out and slithered messily across Corso's face and shoulders.

He nearly dislocated one of his shoulders trying to pull himself free. If Honeydew was trying to scare the total c.r.a.p out of him, he was doing a fantastic job.

After several seconds of this unwanted attention, the monster did the same to each of the two guards, the long, wet feelers playing across their upper torsos. Then the monster took a step backward, the deck vibrating under the broad stumps that were its four legs.

Corso now had a better view of the diminutive figure perched high on the monster's back, and seated just behind the broad expanse of its skull. It looked tiny and helpless, but clearly possessed some close relationship with the creature it sat atop. It was covered in a fine fuzz of hair the same colour as its mount, and it similarly sported a rope of facial tentacles. Its eyes appeared like small pink dots, and it slumped across the monster's back as if resting after a hard day's toil. When those eyes briefly settled on Corso, he had the feeling there was little or no intelligence behind them.

'This is Emissary KaTiKiAn-Sha,' Honeydew muttered into Corso's ear.

'What?' Corso gasped. 'Which one?'

'The unpleasantly large one,' Honeydew replied quietly. 'The smaller one is its mate, the male of the species. Please, be polite when you answer her questions. Our lives are in danger.'

'Your lives?' Corso hissed, his voice cracking. 'What the h.e.l.l do you want from lives?' Corso hissed, his voice cracking. 'What the h.e.l.l do you want from me me?'

'Answer the Emissary's questions,' Honeydew replied, his electronic voice still pitched low. 'And, please, be very, very, very polite.'

The h.e.l.l you you say, Corso almost replied, then realized to his horror that Honeydew was just as scared as he was. say, Corso almost replied, then realized to his horror that Honeydew was just as scared as he was.

The Emissary mount reached up, with its multi-fingered trunk, to what Corso had at first taken to be a saddle of sorts strapped to its back, just behind its pink-eyed mate. It retrieved a large and bulky microphone that looked distinctly primitive in comparison with the s.p.a.cecraft the Emissary had recently emerged from. The microphone disappeared quickly beneath the tentacles.

A moment later a crackling roar filled the vast empty s.p.a.ce of the bay, before suddenly dropping in volume; but the monstrous baying continued as a savage, guttural howl emerging from the Emissary's mouth, hidden behind its tentacles.

'You!' an electronic voice bellowed over the monster's roar, this simultaneous translation reverberating, too, from the bay's distant walls. 'I am Emissary! Of great anger and volume! We bring salvation! And light! I ride with my lover to find G.o.d! Tell me! Where. Is G.o.d!'

The Emissary paused, and then Corso realized it was asking him a direct question. Its ma.s.sive, boulder-sized head had swivelled to stare straight at him with huge, angry eyes.

'I . . . what?' Corso replied weakly.

'Answer,' Honeydew urged quietly from behind.

In the grasp of his guards, Corso twisted to stare at the Bandati agent incredulously.

'Please,' Honeydew whispered.

'I ... I don't know what it wants me to say'

What happened next was something that would fuel Corso's nightmares for the rest of his life.

The Emissary took a step forward and, reaching out with its knotted tentacles, grabbed one of the two Bandati guards, effortlessly lifting him into the air. The guard struggled desperately, and Corso tensed, ready to make a break for it.

'Lucas.' It was Honeydew, still behind him. 'Believe me when I say she can run much faster than you. Just answer her question.'

The Emissary then took a half-step back, and ripped the struggling warrior's head from his shoulders in one swift movement. Corso gaped, appalled, as the head hit the deck and rolled to a halt some distance away. The torso was dropped at Corso's feet a second later.

Dark, wine-coloured blood spilled around his feet.

Honeydew's voice was clear in Corso's ear. 'Please answer, Lucas, or we are all all dead. She might not kill anyone else if she finds your answer satisfactory' dead. She might not kill anyone else if she finds your answer satisfactory'

The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d's hiding behind me, Corso realized, as he stared up at the Emissary. Corso realized, as he stared up at the Emissary.

He opened his mouth, but at first he couldn't get anything out. All he could do was stare at the headless corpse slumped at his feet.

'I . . . I . . .' He cleared his throat and started again. 'I . . . G.o.d is . . . here?' he finally stammered, improvising.

The Emissary stared down at him. 'G.o.d? Is here?'

'I ... I suppose he might,' Corso mumbled, completely terrified.

The Emissary reared back to peer over Corso's head. 'You have G.o.d's ship?' she demanded.

This time, Honeydew stepped forward and himself addressed the Emissary.