This time the moisture staining his cheeks wasn't coming from his brow.

"So when do you think Inigo is going to get to Makkathran?" he asked to distract himself from death, which was surely going to hit at any moment. He was still amazed at Paula Myo calling to tell Gore that Inigo, a weird duo-multiple Araminta, and a team of her agents had somehow raced Troblum's starship ahead of the Pilgrimage fleet.

"It really shouldn't be long, son. You'll be out of there and back with your girls before you know it."

"Yeah, sure." His one remaining satisfaction was knowing that he was doing something to help Lizzie and the girls. By contrast, it would have been awful to be stuck inside the Sol barrier with them, not knowing what was happening outside, whether there was any hope. Not much, but enough Not much, but enough, he promised his family. Given the not so small miracle Gore had worked in getting Inigo to help, he'd convinced himself there was a chance. A very small one, but it was real. All he had to do now was rendezvous with the siphon.

It took another fifty minutes to maneuver through the macrosurges of the convection zone's deathly environment before the fifty-kilometer circle of the siphon force field was directly underneath Last Throw Last Throw. Hysradar showed the torrent of two-million-degree hydrogen streaming in through the rim. The Delivery Man guided the starship across the curving upper surface of the giant lens shape and then slowly down until it was nose-on to the edge.

"That's the weak part," Gore said. "Show me what you can do."

The Last Throw Last Throw eased forward until its force field actually touched the protective shield around the siphon. That was when the Delivery Man finally got to feel some physical aspect of the flight. A low thrumming reverberated through the cabin as the starship was caught between the force field and the plasma hurtling past. He could feel the decking vibrate and grinned weakly. Maybe tranquillity was preferable, after all. eased forward until its force field actually touched the protective shield around the siphon. That was when the Delivery Man finally got to feel some physical aspect of the flight. A low thrumming reverberated through the cabin as the starship was caught between the force field and the plasma hurtling past. He could feel the decking vibrate and grinned weakly. Maybe tranquillity was preferable, after all.

Sensors could just manage to scan through the semipermeable segment of the force field it was pressed against. The smartcore began to probe what it could of the siphon's quantum signature, tracing ghostly outlines of the gigantic generator sheltered inside the force field. The map of its structure built slowly. Eventually there was enough for the Delivery Man to begin the second stage.

The Last Throw Last Throw activated several TD channels, which were directed with impressive accuracy at the siphon's control network. Low-level connections were created, and a software a.n.a.lysis was initiated. activated several TD channels, which were directed with impressive accuracy at the siphon's control network. Low-level connections were created, and a software a.n.a.lysis was initiated.

"It's not the same kind of semisentient that controls the elevation mechanism," the Delivery Man reported. "More like a distributed AI routine, although the parallels with Commonwealth genetic software are minimal."

"Can it be hacked?"

"There are a lot of safeguards, including an external override which will have to be neutralized, but the smartcore says we have several infiltrator packages which should work."

"Launch them."

It's Gore. That was the thought Oscar awoke to. The medical capsule's cover withdrew, showing a blurred figure peering down at him in the cargo hold's dim green-tinged light. Gore is expecting someone to join Justine, and that's what Aaron was committed to. Gore is Aaron's controller Gore is expecting someone to join Justine, and that's what Aaron was committed to. Gore is Aaron's controller.

The face above him resolved into Araminta-two, whose mind was badly agitated.

"It's Gore," Oscar croaked. Suspension had left him with stiff muscles everywhere and an embarra.s.singly full bladder.

"What is?" Araminta-two asked.

"The person behind Aaron, or at least one of them."

"Oh. You mean because he's directing everyone to Makkathran? Yeah, I figured that one out a few months back. Even Aaron agreed."

"Ah. Right. Need to pee." Oscar levered himself upright on his elbows and nearly banged his head on the ceiling of the forward cargo hold. There wasn't much room between the bulky medical cabinets. He saw that three of them were already empty.

I thought I was supposed to be first out. "Everything okay?"

"Just about," Araminta-two answered with a whole load of glumness. Oscar gave him a good look; the Dreamer was wearing a baggy blue T-shirt and gray-green trousers that had a lot of spare fabric. For a moment Oscar thought he was dressing in Troblum's old clothes before acknowledging the style was deliberately feminine. "What's up? Have we arrived?"

"Our Skylord is decelerating us into Querencia orbit. Troblum has already detected the Silverbird Silverbird's beacon, so we know where Makkathran is. No need for observational orbits."

"That's good." He really really needed to pee. needed to pee.

"It's been touch and go with Aaron," Araminta-two blurted.

"Why?"

"His memories of the Cat are breaking through. He spends longer and longer asleep, wrestling with his nightmares. Yesterday he was only awake for five hours. And his body's having some kind of psychosomatic reaction, I think enhanced by his psychic ability."

"Oh, c.r.a.p." Oscar hunched down and made his way along the companionway to the main cabin. His u-shadow connected him to the smartcore, and an exoimage display showed him the planet ahead, expanding quite rapidly as they decelerated into orbit. "Seventy-three minutes out? And we spent three and a half months traveling. Not bad." He made it into the cabin to find Inigo, Corrie-Lyn, and Tomansio waiting for him. "Gotta go." He pointed urgently at the washroom cubicle. They all waved him on, offering sympathetic thoughts.

He was just sealing his fly when the deluge of senses. .h.i.t him hard, foreign thoughts slicing clean through his basic mental shield, bringing vertiginous light, sensation, sound, taste, along with a primeval fear that numbed his hands as he tumbled down into someone else's life.

It had been a fabulous holiday. When evening came, they'd taken one of the hundreds of tourist boats that nosed around the piers of Tridelta City and headed up the Dongara River for a night of partying and native spectacle. The planet's native bioluminescent vegetation didn't disappoint, glowing vividly against the dark skies. And the lounges on the boat provided a lot of wild fun, impressing even the most jaded pa.s.senger.

They disembarked at dawn and went back to their hotel on the top of the old Kinoki Tower three kilometers above the muddy waters of the rivers that shimmied around the city groynes. Daytime was spent eating, sleeping, and having furious s.e.x. The Cat had no inhibitions, which was yet another reason he loved her so. Provocative and daring, she exhausted him and still wanted more, telling him what she expected his poor old flesh to perform.

"Let me have just one break." He laughed, reaching for some of the chilled wine. But the bottle was lying on its side where it'd been kicked. He gave it a depressed stare and told his u-shadow to connect to- The Cat rolled him onto his back and straddled him. A delightful victorious smile lit up her cute face. "Wrong answer," she said, grinning. Her hand closed around his wrist, and the skin burned beneath her fingers. He screamed as the charred flesh welded itself onto the mattress. She gripped the other hand and seared that down, too. "n.o.body denies me," she told him.

He screamed again as she began on his ankles, spread-eagling him so he was held immobile by the stringy remains of his own smoldering flesh. Then her hands stroked nimbly along his chest. She stiffened her fingers and powered them down like a knife. Bones cracked, and blood welled up in deep punctures. "With your body gone, I will take your mind and finally your soul," she promised. He screamed and screamed and twisted with all his strength to escape, prizing himself free- "s.h.i.t!" Oscar juddered back, cracking the side of his head on the bulkhead of the tiny compartment. "Ow!" He pressed his hand to the rising bruise as biononics hurried to ease the damaged flesh. That was when he saw the red markings around his wrist. He stared at them in shock. They were an identical shape to the injury the Cat had inflicted on Aaron in the dream. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l." He stumbled out into the main cabin, holding up both arms incredulously to show his colleagues the sores.

"Yeah!" Tomansio said heartlessly. "You have to guard yourself against that. He got me half an hour ago. I just hope to Ozzie they're not genuine memories."

A m.u.f.fled scream sounded across the cabin. Everyone looked at the sealed door of the sleeping cubicle where Aaron was brawling with his own mind. "Can't we wake him up?" Oscar's shield was as strong as he could make it, and he could still sense the nightmare flooding out of the sleeping man's mind.

"Troblum and I tried that once," Araminta-two said. "Won't be doing that again. Thankfully, my third hand is stronger than his." He gave a nervous smile. "Actually, Aaron was the one who's been making me practice and develop my abilities."

"We're losing him," Inigo said. "And if we lose him ..."

"No," Corrie-Lyn said. "We won't lose him, not to her. Not before we reach Makkathran. He's stronger than that. I know."

"Yeah, but this?" Tomansio gestured at the sleeping cubicle.

"Less than two hours," Corrie-Lyn said. "And we'll be walking though Makkathran's streets. His subconscious knows that."

"His subconscious is the problem," Oscar muttered dourly. "Where's Troblum?"

"Where he's been for most of the flight," Araminta-two said archly. "In his sleeping cubicle."

"Has he got problems, too?" It came out before Oscar really thought about what he was asking.

A mildly guilty flash of amus.e.m.e.nt shimmered across the cabin, a brief intimate connection shared by everyone equally.

"Okay," Oscar said, desperate not to let any thoughts wander in the direction of the big man's cubicle. "Why?"

"Wouldn't like to guess, but his solido projector is in there with him."

"Wow, this must have been a great trip for you."

"Wonderful," Araminta-two admitted. "Being on the Lady's Light Lady's Light was just about preferable." was just about preferable."

"Did the Pilgrimage fleet make it through?"

"Yes. About a week ago. I had a spot of trouble with Ethan afterward, but that's settled now."

Oscar was curious, but instinct made him hold back from asking for details. "And Ilanthe?"

"Oh, yes, it's here. It killed a Skylord and consumed its abilities."

"Christ. So where is it now?"

"The other Skylords say it's on its way to the Heart."

Oscar almost wished they'd left him in suspension. "Let's wake up the others," he said.

Aaron emerged from his sleep cubicle just as Beckia was taken out of her medical cabinet. Oscar took one look at him and drew in a sharp breath. Aaron was in a bad way. His face looked as if he'd had some kind of capsule smash, with scars and bruising contaminating his skin. Eyes bloodshot.

"Good to see you," Oscar lied.

Aaron gave him a sour glance. "Where's Troblum?" Without waiting for an answer, he thumped his fist on Troblum's door. Oscar saw that each fingernail was black and bleeding.

Troblum emerged, his mind spilling resentment into the cabin. He gave everyone a sullen glance and dropped his gaze to the decking like a censured teenager.

"Land us," Aaron said. "Come on, we don't have time for your personal c.r.a.p; you need to focus on this. Justine encountered some difficulties on the way down."

"I'm ready," Troblum replied sullenly.

Acceleration couches rose up out of the floor.

"Talking of personal c.r.a.p," Tomansio said levelly. "Have you considered what you've been spilling into the Void?"

"What?" Aaron snapped.

"Well, let's just hope your ex-girlfriend hasn't been replicated like Kazimir was. I'd hate to b.u.mp into her down there."

Oscar gripped the sides of his couch. The first amber warnings flickered into his exovision. Several systems were glitching. He wished they'd left him in suspension until they were down and this particular h.e.l.l was over.

It was late afternoon in the Anomine city, and the air was already starting to cool. Gore pulled on a black cashmere sweater as he moved along the intrusion systems lying like a giant spiderweb across the plaza. The strands were sticky, glistening black in the rose-gold sun. His field function a.n.a.lysis of the individual strands was showing up few imperfections amid the long-chain molecules that were twined together around their active penetration filaments. Production quality had been high, which was impressive given that the replicator had never been designed with anything quite like this in mind.

He gave Tyzak an un.o.btrusive look. The big old Anomine was squatting on his hind legs on the other side of the plaza, close to Gore's little camp. It still had no true idea of the web's actual purpose.

I guess mistrust and suspicion are greater in humans than Anomine. Shame, but there you go, it gives us an edge. And yet ... they went postphysical. Though not this variety. It's almost as if they bred two strains of themselves, the go-getters and the naive.

A theory as good as any. Somehow he couldn't imagine Tyzak and his kind achieving postphysical status.

Maybe that's true biological evolution. Achieve the pinnacle and decline back into peaceful extinction, irrelevant once your true achievement has elevated itself out of this universe. Perhaps s.p.a.cetime has no other purpose than to be an embryo for sentience.

He tried to recall how many species the navy exploration ships had found that had backed away from the apex of science and intellect without achieving the leap to postphysical. The statistics eluded him, but he didn't think there were many.

Something ripped noisily through the clean air above the city, bringing a wave of joy and relief. Tyzak hadn't heard it; therefore- Gore smiled contentedly to himself. He felt surprising calm for a mere meat body as his u-shadow opened a link to the Delivery Man. "How's it going?"

"Well, amazingly, I'm still alive. No change up here. The incursion package is loaded. I'm just waiting for you to say go to activate it."

"Go."

"What?"

"Initiate the wormhole and start the siphon power-up sequence. We're going to need that energy soon."

"Oh, c.r.a.p. Okay, I'll try."

"Thanks. For everything." Gore closed his eyes, opened his mind, and watched the sky.

The sonic boom crashed across Makkathran without warning, sending the local birds wheeling through the sky, their wings pumping in alarm. Panicked animals across the city started an ugly bawling. Justine looked up and smiled widely in utter relief. She wanted wanted Dad to know this, a wish that surged out of her, as strong as any Void-derived psychic ability. It took a moment, then she found the pure white contrail sketching a beautifully straight line high across the turquoise sky. The dark tip was already out across the Lyot Sea. It started to curve back around again. Dad to know this, a wish that surged out of her, as strong as any Void-derived psychic ability. It took a moment, then she found the pure white contrail sketching a beautifully straight line high across the turquoise sky. The dark tip was already out across the Lyot Sea. It started to curve back around again.

"Finally!"

The starship vanished from sight behind the high wall surrounding the little courtyard garden at the back of the Sampalok mansion. Justine told the two ge-chimps to carry on raking the new section of the vegetable patch she was preparing. The funny little creatures swished the crude tools back and forth across the soil as she directed. Sculpting them had been one of the most satisfying moments she'd had in ages, even though the first had one arm longer than the other and the second seemed to have a hearing difficulty.

Justine hurried out into the central square and stood on the specific spot she'd been using for the last seven weeks. "Take me down," she asked the city. The ground beneath her feet changed changed, and she fell through the city substance to the travel tunnel underneath. And that was the the single most satisfying achievement just about ever. She still hadn't talked to or even sensed the city's primary mind, buried heaven only knew how many kilometers below the buildings and ca.n.a.ls. But she had finally managed to impress her thoughts on the more simple routines that regulated the fundamental aspects of the city structure. Whatever Makkathran actually was, its management network was a h.o.m.ogenized one. Farsight had showed her that electricity powered the lights and some of the pump systems. Gravity was manipulated to make the travel tunnels work. All of that confirmed everyone's original belief that the city had come from outside the Void. But it still didn't tell her anything she wanted to know. single most satisfying achievement just about ever. She still hadn't talked to or even sensed the city's primary mind, buried heaven only knew how many kilometers below the buildings and ca.n.a.ls. But she had finally managed to impress her thoughts on the more simple routines that regulated the fundamental aspects of the city structure. Whatever Makkathran actually was, its management network was a h.o.m.ogenized one. Farsight had showed her that electricity powered the lights and some of the pump systems. Gravity was manipulated to make the travel tunnels work. All of that confirmed everyone's original belief that the city had come from outside the Void. But it still didn't tell her anything she wanted to know.

She descended into the dazzling illumination of the travel tunnel and pushed her sungla.s.ses firmly back on her nose before asking the city to take her to Golden Park. Gravity began to shift, and she made sure she was leaning forward as it altered. She'd made the mistake of falling feetfirst once and didn't want to repeat that. Flying headfirst, now, that was another matter. It was more exhilarating than Inigo's dreams had ever conveyed. She punched her fists out in front and whooped joyously as she performed her first corkscrew roll.

Justine rose up into Golden Park beside one of the white pillars along the Outer Circle Ca.n.a.l. The melded domes of the Orchard Palace gleamed with a burnished sheen behind her as she waited. After all the weeks of antic.i.p.ation, half convincing herself that she might have decades to wait, she was finally giving in to her body's hormonal rush of anxiety as she watched the starship appear above the Port district. It was flying a lot slower now, though its wingtips were still trailing faint vapor trails across Makkathran's cloudless sky. Wait-wings? Wait-wings?

The starship circled around over Ysidro district and began a steep descent. It was suffering the same way Silverbird Silverbird had, Justine decided. The flight wasn't as stable or as slow as it ought to be; the Void was glitching its drive units. Once or twice she sucked down a sharp breath as it wobbled in the air. Then long landing struts popped out, and it dropped the last ten meters out of the sky to skid a way along the thick tangle of gra.s.s before coming to a halt not a hundred meters from the had, Justine decided. The flight wasn't as stable or as slow as it ought to be; the Void was glitching its drive units. Once or twice she sucked down a sharp breath as it wobbled in the air. Then long landing struts popped out, and it dropped the last ten meters out of the sky to skid a way along the thick tangle of gra.s.s before coming to a halt not a hundred meters from the Silverbird Silverbird.

A circular airlock opened in the starship's midsection, and some old-fashioned aluminum stairs slid out. People trotted down, radiating a mixture of joy and disbelief that Justine's farsight recognized easily. It was identical to her own.

There were nine of them standing together on the gra.s.s as she approached, a surprising number for a ship that size even if they'd used suspension. Then their farsights perceived her, and they turned to greet her as she jogged over.

Shouts of welcome reached her when she was still twenty meters away. Several were waving jubilantly. A couple of them even started to run toward her. They all seemed to be smiling wildly.

Not true, she corrected herself, and pushed her sungla.s.ses up.

The big man standing at the back with a formidable shield around his thoughts-he wasn't smiling. Nor was the one who looked as if he'd been in a bad street fight and lost. But the others were all genuinely happy to see her, which was good enough.

The one who was in the lead flung his arms wide and gave her an effusive hug. Something oddly familiar about his face- "Justine Burnelli," he exclaimed. "It's been awhile."

And that smile was so sinfully teasing, she couldn't help but grin back. "Sorry. Who ...?"

"We met at the Second Chance Second Chance departure party," he said wickedly. "Oscar Monroe, remember." departure party," he said wickedly. "Oscar Monroe, remember."

"Oh. My. G.o.d G.o.d. Oscar? Is that you? I thought you were still ... I mean." She shrugged awkwardly.

"Yeah, they let me out eighty years back. I didn't make a fuss about it."

"Good to see you, Oscar," she said sincerely. "Gotta admit, I wasn't expecting you."

"n.o.body does. I think that's the point of being me these days."

She laughed, then glanced over his shoulder at the others. "Inigo, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Inigo didn't go for the whole hugging scene. He stuck his hand out formally. That was when Justine realized she might be slightly overdoing the whole Queen of the Wild City act. All she wore was boots, a small black bikini top, and some denim shorts with the cattle prod, a pistol, and a machete hanging off her belt. The sun had tanned her skin a deep honey brown at the same time it'd bleached her hair almost white, and that hadn't been styled since she arrived; these days she just tied it back with some straps in a loose tail. Quite a change for someone who back at the start of the twenty-first century used to spend over a hundred thousand dollars a year on personal grooming, and that was before her clothes bill. All in all, she must've been quite a fright sight.