Resolution (102 page)

‘Oh, Tom. Yes.’

‘What happened? What went wrong?’

‘Those orders of magnitude ... I misjudged a single factor in the equation, approximated it as a constant when I should have known ... Should have.’

‘How do we fix it?’

‘We can’t. We just... can’t.’

Tom kept his breathing shallow and calm. ‘
Theoretically,
what could we do to make it work? The devices perform their basic function, don’t they?’

‘I don’t know
...’

‘Do we just need more of them? To disperse them in a different configuration?’

‘
I
...’

‘Are the ones in orbit right now still operational, or do we need to start again?’

Tom paused. He was pushing too hard.

But we don’t have time.

In the image, another man’s hand appeared, offering a cup to Avernon with the murmured words:
‘Here. Drink this, my Lord.’

Tom waited.

Finally:

‘Most of them still work. We need more, but not many more. A new configuration ... Yes, kind of.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Tom, I ... There’s no way to work with the precision I need. The geometry ... It’s so sensitive to the initial placement that a tiny perturbation from the exact point throws the field wildly off kilter. It’s Chaotic!’

‘Send me the equations.’

‘
There’s no point. No-one can work in orbit to that exact a
—’

‘Send it now.’

‘I... Yes, Warlord.’

Tom held up the blank crystal, hesitated.

It seems appropriate.

So that was the crystal Tom used, downloading Avernon’s equations into the core which once held tales of ancient Pilots.

‘Is that everything, Avernon?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I hope to see you later. Out.’

The more Tom considered, the more he could think of only one person who might help: Brino of Kilware Associates. But even if he lived, Brino could be anywhere in Nulapeiron.

Elva will try to stop me.

Tom looked at young Pentor Vize.

‘Here.’ Tom began to pull off his black, bloodstained tunic. ‘I need you to—Mmph.’

He dragged the heavy garment over his head.

‘I need you to wear this,’ he told Pentor. ‘I’m sorry about the blood.’

Tom’s white undershirt was crimson where it had soaked through.

‘Um ... Yes, Warlord.’

Pentor Vize tugged the tunic on.

‘Keep the doorshimmer half-manifest,’ Tom said. ‘I want it translucent, so if anyone looks inside, they’ll think that you are me. Got it?’

‘Yes, Warlord. Um ... No, not really.’

‘Good.’

Tom plucked his blood-damp undershirt away from his skin, then shrugged and pulled it right off. He wiped blood from his bare torso, and tossed the garment aside.

The stallion talisman hung against his sternum. The air was cool against his bare torso, and welcome.

Moving quickly now, Tom inserted the crystal inside the talisman, sealing it up once more as he strode towards the doorshimmer.

‘Fate be with you, Warlord.’

In the corridor outside, if the carls were startled to see their one-armed Warlord bare above the waist, they revealed no sign of it.

‘I want three of you to come with me,’ Tom said, ‘and the rest to remain stationed here.’

‘But, Warlord. We took an oath to protect—’

‘I guessed that. And if anyone sees you here, they’ll think I’m inside the chamber. Right?’

‘Aye, sir.’

‘Then that’s how you’ll be protecting me. Because I won’t be here.’

‘Er ...’ Then a knowing expression spread across the carl’s face, and his voice grew hollow with disappointment: ‘Yes, sir.’

You think I’m fleeing.

But, ‘Good,’ was all Tom said. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

With three carls tagging along, Tom crossed to the corridor’s end, checked there was no-one to see, then took descending stairs to the next level down. They were near the highest level of drop-bug bays, designed for emergency escape.

‘Can you three clear that corridor? I don’t want anyone to see me.’

‘Aye, Warlord.’

The carls moved ahead.

After a moment, one of them waved Tom forward. ‘All clear,’ the carl said. ‘The drop-bug in that bay is ready to go.’

‘I’m using the other bay. Once I’ve gone, try to look ... unobtrusive.’

‘But sir...’

‘What, warrior?’

‘That
bay is empty. There’s no drop-bug inside it.’

‘I know.’ Tom grinned at him. ‘You don’t expect me to miss the fun, do you?’

Inside the bay, cold draughts moaned. There was no membrane sealing off the bay from the outside, nothing to obstruct Tom’s view of the cloudy lemon sky.

There‘ll be Anomaly vessels to darken it soon enough.

Tom did not know how much time he had.

But it can’t be much.

So why was he delaying?

Tom grasped the stallion talisman in his fist. He remembered Father’s big blunt hands moving the graser cutter, sculpting the raised hooves and flying mane from a featureless metal block. He remembered the Pilot, Petra deVries: her fine triangular olive features, and the tension in her voice when she secreted that first crystal inside the stallion, entrusting it to Tom before she fled.

Before she died.

It’s all led up to this.

Tom trembled from more than the chill.

Everything. Since I was fourteen SY old.

Trembled from more than fear.

Every single step since then.

Tom walked to the bay’s outer doorway and stopped. Wind caressed his bare chest. He moved so his toes were at the edge.

Standing at the threshold of the void.

~ * ~

59

NULAPEIRON AD 3426

Lashed to the terraformer, crucified before the elements, back arched against hard freezing piercing stone, Tom wept and whimpered and Saw.

It hurts.

Tom Saw everything.