Bringer of Light (13 page)

He slept long enough to banish the worst of the shiftspace hangover.

When he awoke, he suffered a moment of disorientation –
where the hell am I? Oh yes, in another galaxy:
holy shit! – but physically, he felt fine. When he sat up he realised he’d slept through someone coming into his room; there was stuff that didn’t belong to him strewn around, and from the look of the rumpled covers, someone had slept on the other side of the massive bed.
What the fuck?
Belatedly, Jarek worked it out: if anyone boarded the
Heart of Glass
and had a look around, they’d quickly spot the fact that the ship had only two cabins. And if he and Taro were going to follow Nual’s advice, then not only would they have to make sure no one suspected Taro and Nual were lovers; they’d actually have to give the impression that Taro was
Jarek
’s lover. It was good thinking by Taro, to move into the same room. He wondered how far the boy would take the ruse; the two of them had shared a bed once before, but Jarek had been under no illusions, then or now, about who Taro really wanted.

Between the knowledge that strangers were going over his ship and the cold realisation that they were entirely at the mercy of their hosts, Jarek’s initial good mood quickly soured. He got up and went to find the others.

Now he was awake enough to appreciate it, Jarek found himself impressed at their accommodation. The antiseptic stench of the decon-unit had dissipated and he could actually smell how new this place was. Every need was catered for – there was even a swimming pool, complete with artificial waves. The larger rooms, like the pool and the gym – Jarek assumed those devices were meant for exercise rather than torture – had curved floors and ceilings, a reminder that they were built into the inner surface of a sphere. But though he was used to seeing different styles on different worlds, somehow the décor didn’t quite match ideas of human norms: furniture designs looked subtly wrong, colour combinations slightly off. The layout was also weird; though there were corridors, rooms often opened straight into other rooms, and none of the rooms had doors, not even the bathrooms.

He found the dining area by following his nose; from the smell of it someone else had eaten in here recently. He was just working out the instructions on the food dispensers – they were marked with a mixture of hard-to-read script and pictograms – when he heard a shriek from nearby.

As he ran towards the shriek, the cry came again, followed by Taro’s voice, sounding placatory. He tracked the source of the fuss to a room on the far side of a cushion-filled lounge; the otherwise bare room had been set up as a hologaming cube. It looked like Taro and Vy had been running a game set in a jungle: the room’s walls were hidden by the convincing illusion of green and blue foliage, and a soundtrack of hoots, hisses and tuneful whistles was playing under the ongoing argument. When Jarek walked through the holofilled gap, Taro was brandishing a gaming headset at Vy. ‘Just keep playing, please? They’ll come and find us when they’re ready.’

Vy shook his head violently. ‘I can’t . . . can’t just . . .
It’s not enough!
The game . . . it’s not
enough
.’

‘Enough what?’ asked Jarek.

Taro turned to him, looking exasperated. ‘Wish I fucking knew!’

His com chimed; at the same moment he heard the jaunty tone of Taro’s com. Taro looked at Jarek as if to say,
Do you want to get this one?

Jarek was unsurprised to find that the caller didn’t have an ID-tag. He raised his hand and said, ‘Yes?’

‘Greetings and good day. Query: has sufficient rest been taken?’

Despite the lack of introduction, Jarek was fairly sure he was speaking to the woman who’d originally hailed him. ‘Yes, we’re feeling a lot better. Thanks for asking.’

‘Query: would a face-to-face meeting be convenient at this time?’

‘Sounds good to me. Where were you thinking of? We’re still finding our way around the place.’ Realising he should be a little more diplomatic he added, ‘This is a very impressive hab you’ve created for us.’

‘Statement: your compliment is appreciated. Request: kindly return to the lounge behind you. After that, turn left and carry straight on through the next three rooms. That will bring you to a garden area designed to be a pleasant place to meet and talk.’

‘Thanks. And does this invitation extend to all of us?’

‘Affirmative.’

The detailed instructions were confirmation, if he needed it, that they were under surveillance.

Vy trailed after them, looking close to tears, and they followed the nameless woman’s directions and emerged into a garden, which was filled with a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar plants, displayed in a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar ways. Jarek found himself taking a deep breath of the pleasantly scented air. The most obvious path led between a pair of bushes, clipped or force-grown to perfect cubes; they had identical green and white foliage. One bush was covered in pale pink flowers, the other in dark red fruits.

Jarek stopped and squinted up into the bright ‘sky’. He could make out a golden glow high overhead; the light was in a spectrum much loved by holodrama makers, said to be that of Sol, the star of Old Earth. Jarek had not yet visited Old Earth, though he planned to get round to it some day, even if the cradle of humanity was more of a destination for tourists than traders. Aleph’s own sun was a young, stable dwarf-star, and far redder than Sol. Since the machine-merged Sidhe males were effectively immortal, and had access to limitless energy, it made sense that they’d choose a system with a weak, long-lived star and plenty of loose raw materials.

‘We going to this meeting then?’ Taro asked, interrupting his reverie.

‘Sorry, yes.’ He followed Taro between the bushes. Nual, waiting for them on the other side, fell into step next to Jarek, on the opposite side to Taro.

The path led them through further pleasant landscaping, complete with a bubbling stream, to a clearing shaded by golden-leaved trees that emitted a faint but soothing rustle. The ‘land’ had been built up into shaped banks covered in soft grass, and one of these natural seats was occupied by a small dark woman wearing a black one-piece suit. She stood as they entered the glade. Jarek couldn’t tell her age, but she had an open, welcoming face. From the way she checked them over he guessed she wasn’t going to miss much.

Before she could speak Vy rushed over to her and gabbled, ‘I need to speak to your patron! It’s urgent!’

After a momentary loss of composure the woman replied evenly, ‘Apologies: your request is not feasible. There is no patron.’

‘You’re human, aren’t you?’ asked Vy rudely, thrusting his face up at hers.

is
human, by the way. I can read her freely.
>

Jarek started at Nual’s mental observation. For a moment he was illogically worried that even their thoughts were being monitored, but that was rubbish, of course. Only female Sidhe could read minds. The males’ talents lay in different areas.

‘Assertion: this individual is lingua,’ the woman was saying, ‘and as such does not answer to any one patron. You are Khesh’s avatar, aye-okay?’

‘Yes, yes. I need to speak to someone in charge,
now
.’

‘Your request is conveyed. However, the situation is complicated. Please allow explanations to be provided, after which all may ask questions freely.’ She didn’t sound offended at being shouted at by a crazy kid-avatar. Her gaze flicked from Vy to Jarek. ‘Query: is the preference for conversing whilst sitting, standing or walking?’

‘I’m fine standing if everyone else is,’ he said, looking at the other two, who both nodded. Given Vy’s unreasonable behaviour, he wanted their hosts to know that the rest of them weren’t going to be any trouble.

Vy waved his hands. ‘It’s
urgent
,’ he said, offended that their host dared pay attention to anyone else when he was there.

‘Clarification: the relevant parties are now aware of your request,’ she replied gently. ‘Any response will be passed on at once.’

Her reply satisfied Vy enough to make him back off. He flopped onto the ground and started to pull up grass.

‘Sorry,’ said Jarek, ‘he’s been like this since we got here. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?’

‘Clarification and apology: this individual is lingua, and lingua do not generally employ names when fulfilling their function.’ Seeing Jarek’s confused expression she continued, ‘Further clarification: lingua act as natural speakers, mediating between the patrons – those you call Sidhe males – and as such, lingua speak with one voice, or rather, as a conduit of many voices.’ Her smile softened. ‘However, lingua –
we
– use names amongst ourselves, and mine is Ain. The choice is yours, whether to use a designation or a name when dealing with this individual.’

‘Names are good,’ said Jarek carefully. He wondered if she was having to do some mental gymnastics to fit in with his world-view.

Ain went on, ‘Statement: this lingua forms the interface between you and the patrons. Please be aware, if you were not already, that your presence is controversial. For this reason it has been decided that only a single lingua should have face-to-face contact with you.’

‘So we don’t get to meet any of the old males, then?’ Taro asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Jarek tried not to wince. Their assigned lingua was their only source of info, and as the males were no doubt listening in, he’d been planning on avoiding that kind of awkward question, at least to begin with.

‘Affirmative: you will not meet any patrons.’ Was that amusement in her tone, or shock?

‘What about avatars? You got them here?’ Taro asked.

‘Affirmative: most patrons support avatars, but to let any one avatar come here would be seen as favouritism to the patron it represented.’

‘Shame.’ Taro’s tone was sarcastic. He looked down at Vy, still sulking at their feet.

Jarek noted her use of
it
to refer to an avatar. ‘You were going to explain the complexities of the situation?’ he prompted.

‘Clarification follows. Please interrupt if this lingua repeats known facts, or if you require additional information regarding any points raised.

‘Know that Aleph has many patrons. The patrons rarely agree, but they have the wisdom not to let their disputes become disruptive to the system at large.’

‘When you say “many patrons”,’ said Jarek, ‘how many are we talking about?’

‘Clarification: just over twenty thousand hold voting rights in the Consensus. The Consensus is both the place and method of our governance. Any decisions affecting multiple domains must be taken in the Consensus.’

‘And a domain is the extent of a given male’s influence?’ Jarek asked. Twenty thousand non-cooperative Sidhe males living in one system certainly qualified as complicated in his eyes.

‘Aye: domains vary greatly in extent and nature. Some patrons live entirely virtually, taking little or no interest in the universe outside. Others support self-sufficient worlds or habitats.’

‘And humans live on these worlds? I mean, aside from your people.’

‘Affirmative. Humans live in or on approximately one third of the domains. Lingua have no homeworld, unless you count the physical site of the Consensus, where we are birthed.’

Jarek had a sudden suspicion. ‘Are you a clone?’

‘Affirmative. All lingua are clones.’

Jarek quashed his uneasiness; because of their problems breeding true, most female Sidhe were clones. But Nual said Ain was human. ‘How about the humans in the domains: are they clones?’

‘Negative: cloning is forbidden save to make lingua.’

‘So the understandably-peeved pilot of the lightship I spoke to when we first arrived is an ordinary human?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘That ship looked like it was heading out-of-system; where was it going?’

‘It travels to the nearest star, possibly beyond. I am not party to the intentions of its patron.’

‘I thought you – well, the patrons – were stuck in the one system.’

‘Affirmative, to an extent. As you now know, journeying here is a more traumatic experience than making a transit within humanity’s home galaxy. For the patrons it was worse still. Even you’ – for the first time she directly addressed Nual – ‘only experienced a fraction of what they endured. When added to their previous transit experience, this was enough to destroy many who made the exodus. Insanity or death took them. Most of the survivors built themselves into constructions too large to enter shiftspace. Even those still relatively unencumbered would never risk repeating the journey. However, the patrons used up much of the matter in this system in building the structures they now rule and inhabit. To procure more, patrons occasionally send ships crewed by humans to nearby stars, where they secure rare resources, returning them via mass-drivers; they may also set up colonies there. Other patrons send human crews out to explore without knowing what they will find. Without shiftspace travel, such missions take many years, and the crew must either pass the time in stasis or else live out several generations.’

‘How about the patrons themselves? Do they ever leave?’

‘Affirmative. Any patron who feels unable to live within the Consensus may fix a drive to his domain and leave. Some of these remain in contact with the Consensus. Some do not.’