I remember numbness, the not-knowing as I gently, tenderly laid her body down to sleep. Silver tears from her eyes, mouth open but silent, pale skin fading to gray as silver catalyst solidified, deprived of her bioelectricity. I don’t know if God perished with its host, but Judith was no more. Hannon closed his eyes.
Hurried to the tube, hurried to the surface to find the sky on fire, a new moon hanging in orbit around the imprisoned system’s first planet: Gary. Guerra. Mother had brought her war to Hannon’s world at last.
Gary engaged the fleet of destroyers and planetships. Hannon’s men had waited for centuries, millennia for this moment, and they fought with unmatched ferocity, but they were no match. One by ten by a hundred, they fell. They’d struck, and struck hard, but
Into orbit, into the fray. I knew that Mother would escape from her wounded vessel, that she’d take Lilith and the others. Hostages? Guarantee. That we wouldn’t just kill them in orbit.
Judith’s weapon burned at my side.
I saw planetships crumble under Gary’s fire, great swarms of tiny vessels erupt into light. Fireworks. Splashes and ripples of dissolving phase. It reminded me of the day my mother died, the way the sky had looked. It would have looked like that if it had been night instead of morning.
I felt it about to
and then it did. Gary opened up and the combined silver of Maire and Lilith lanced outward, punching into and through the Heaven planet. Hannon deftly maneuvered away from the line of fire, but many of his vessels were caught in the backlash. The planet below glowed with Catalyst, shimmering, glittering Catalyst.
She thought that she’d killed Heaven, but I knew that God had died in my arms. I knew that Maire’s was an empty victory.
Planet venting plasma into orbit, but the silver strike wasn’t enough. I saw a slither detach from Gary’s underbelly, tiny dot compared to the warship, which increased speed and slammed down onto Heaven, shattering into fire and ash, sending great chunks of continent into the sky.
I knew that Lilith was safe on that slither. It entered the burning atmosphere. Landing? The touch of her
I saw the webs then, the faint tendrils spreading out from Heaven, tearing through the silica expanse of the systemship. Like the halo spreading from Berlin’s vessel to all of the original worlds, it was happening again.
It’s not at all like Ender, like science fiction books or movies. War isn’t that glorious. It’s a series of shocking images slamming into your mind one after another, giving you no time to react. There is no glory in this, only loss, only raw despair as you just try to survive, to inhale and exhale one more time. Everything becomes that singular goal of seeing her again, holding her hand, kissing her. Everything becomes survival until you detach, watch it all in silence, and just breathe.
I saw the shell of the systemship crack from the silver pressure, plates the size of planets lift and spin away. I saw stars outside, more and more stars. And I saw the silver, spreading like spiderwebs, forever outward, forever
I knew there would be no escape for anyone out there. This time, the silver won.
A shard of Gary cut through the atmosphere and impaled our slither. Phase flak. The side of Hannon’s head erupted and we began to depressurize before I even knew we were hit.
He slumped forward in his vacuum chair. Alarms roaring to life, protective bubble washing over me. I saw his jaw move on unspoken words and his eyes blink once. He died.
Chaos to order to chaos: life dissembles. We lose humanity in those moments between and
We lose them all in time, those we love, those whom we’ve learned to love. I didn’t stop to think about the dead mass of flesh in the cockpit next to me. I knew that I owed him my life; he could have killed me immediately upon removing me from Machine, but he didn’t. He knew. And now
He’d given so much, lost so much. I hoped that he was now somewhere better than this dying universe, somewhere beyond the reach of a child, of silver, of loss. I hoped.
I took over the shiver controls and followed Maire’s slither down to the surface. It was time.
No way to stop it now. With this much phase packed into such a convenient containment, I don’t know how far the silver will spread. I have no hope of ever finding anyone else out there. There is only this desert plain, this little girl. And me. Only this, and soon, nothing.
It’s won, but not before I
landed the shiver on the ravaged surface, illuminated by the false incandescence of the silver in the atmosphere, wind still blowing over the scoured expanse. I landed near them but not too close.
They got out of their slither one by one, Whistler helping the child down, then Hank. The ninth incarnation of Hunter Windham. And then
She
saw me from across the winds and dust. Looked from Nine to me to Nine to me. Started running toward me.
but Maire reached out and her footsteps stopped, dust still swirling up from the impact.
The child continued forward.
I remember that tugging, the sensation of silver speaking without words, without even the whispers. It was everywhere, everything, and we were the focal point. We were everything on that barren plain, the beginning and the end of the war. We were
One.
Whistler and the cowboy Hank stood on either side of Lilith. Hank lit a cigarette and I shot him.
Moving between times and places, speed beyond vision or comprehension, even too fast for Mother to see. I was becoming, and still am, and the last of her is within and I can be
Hank’s projection dissembled from the phase slug. A tiny silver marble fell to the desert hardpan. No place for a cowboy, not on this world, not in this story.
I saw Whistler swallow hard.
He had no idea, this ghost of a painter, stalked on Paris streets eons before by a woman from below, chosen for his personality and code, not knowing that he would be resurrected again and again to serve her purposes, never knowing that she loved him as a child although she was now the child, a dying child, and the mind dissembles in this, under this sky.
He was probably the best of us. At least he had created something beautiful in his life. Les soldats perdus had only destroyed, had only mindlessly spread the contagion throughout systems, following orders they were born with, living lives pre-determined by a criminal child from another galaxy.
I saw him reach inside of his cloak for his weapon. He paused, cape billowing out in the gusts, had poised, but then it fell to his side. He looked at me with tired eyes and nodded. I pulled the trigger and Whistler was no more.
Maire clapped her hands. Big smile. She was enjoying this. She’d won. She knew that I would kill her and her pain would be gone before the silver consumed her entirely.
Such peace in that moment. Six reduced to four, but not really four. Nine looked at Mother, as if he expected her to order him to kill me. I was the only one with weapon drawn. I was the only combatant in this final battle.
Such peace in that moment. I looked at Lilith and she looked at me. There was nothing more we could do. There was no reason for Mother to kill me now. She’d won. I had the gun, but she’d won. Gary’s attack had been successful. She thought she’s killed Heaven, killed God. She knew that the silver was sweeping out across everything.
Such peace in that moment, in her gaze. We were together again, no matter what. It didn’t matter how much time we had left; we were together, separated by only feet of gravel and dust and sand, not thousands of years of space. We were together, and that’s all that mattered.
Nine pulled his weapon.
I remember Maire smiling. Knowing. You know, you do and
