“Why?” Monica asked. “Why are you helping us? It’s not that I’m ungrateful. But I am curious.”
“The Tyrathca were also correct when they said I exist to assist the progress of biological entities. Though the particular circumstances humans are currently facing were not the reason I was created.”
“Then what were you made for?” Alkad asked.
“The race which created me had reached their evolutionary pinnacle; intellectually, physically, and in their technology. A fact which should be self-evident to you, Dr Mzu. My sentience resides within a self-contained pattern of vacuum fluctuations. This provides me with an extensive ability to manipulate mass and energy; for me thought is deed, the two are one and the same. I used that ability to open a gateway for my creators into a new realm. They knew little of it, other than it existed; its parameters are very different to this universe. So they chose to embark on a new phase of existence living within it. They left this universe a long time ago.”
“And you’ve been helping various species progress along evolution’s track ever since?” Joshua said. “It’s your reason for existing?”
“I do not require a continuing reason to exist, a motivation. That psychology is a descendent of a biological sentience. My origins are not biological; I exist because they created me. It’s that simple.”
“Then why do you help?”
“Again, the simple answer would be because I can. But there are other considerations. It is an amplification of the problem your species has encountered millions of times during its history, almost daily in fact. You were even subject to it at Mastrit-PJ. When and where not to intervene? Did you believe you did the right thing by giving the Mosdva ZTT technology? Your intentions were good, but ultimately they were governed by self interest.”
“Did we do the wrong thing?”
“The Mosdva certainly don’t think so. Such judgements are relative.”
“So you don’t help everybody all the time?”
“No. Such a level of intervention—shaping the nature of biological life to conform with my wishes, however benevolent—would make me your ruler. Sentient life has free will. My creators believe that is why this universe exists. I respect that, and will not interfere with its self determination.”
“Even when we make a mess of things?”
“That would be a judgement again.”
“But you are willing to help us if we ask?”
“Yes.”
Joshua looked at the projected image of the singularity, vaguely troubled. “All right, we’re definitely asking. Can we have the list of solutions?”
“You may. I would suggest they would be more useful if you understood what has happened. That way, you would be able to make a more informed decision on which one to apply.”
“Seems reasonable.”
“Wait,” Monica said. “You keep mentioning we have to make a decision. How do we do that?”
“What are you talking about?” Liol asked. “Once we’ve heard what’s on offer, we chose.”
“We do? Are we going to put it to a vote here in the ship, do we go back to the Confederation Assembly and ask them to decide? What? We need to be certain about this first.”
Liol looked round the cabin, trying to identify the mood. “No, we don’t go back,” he said. “This is what we came here for. The Jovian Consensus thought we were up to the job. So I say do it.”
“We’re deciding the future of our whole race,” she protested. “We can’t just leap into this. And . . .” she indicated Mzu. “Bloody hell, she’s hardly qualified to be passing judgement on the rest of us. That’s the way I see it. You were going to use the Alchemist against an entire planet.”
“Whereas the ESA is an organization of enviable morality,” Alkad snapped back. “How many people did you murder just tracking me down?”
“You people have got to be fucking kidding,” Liol said. “You can’t even decide how to decide? Listen to yourselves! This kind of personal stupidity is what dumps humans into the shit every time. We just discuss it and make a decision. That’s it. Finish.”
“No,” Samuel said. “The captain decides.”
“Me?” Joshua asked.
Monica stared at the Edenist in astonishment. “Him!”
“Yes, I agree,” the serjeant said. “Joshua decides.”
“He never doubted,” Samuel said. “Did you, Joshua? You’ve always known this would end in success.”
“I hoped it would, sure.”
“You doubted this flight,” Samuel told Monica. “You didn’t fully believe it would end in success. If you had, you would have been prepared to make the decision. Instead, you have doubts, that disqualifies you. Whoever does this must have conviction.”
“Like yours, for instance,” Monica said. “A subset of your famous rationality.”
“I too find myself unqualified for this. Although Edenists think as one, to make a decision of this magnitude I find myself wanting the reassurance of the Consensus. It would seem Edenism has a flaw after all.”
Joshua gazed round at his crew. “You’ve all been very quiet.”
“That’s because we trust you, Joshua,” Sarha said simply, and smiled. “You’re our captain.”
Strange, Joshua thought, when you got right down to the naked truth, people actually had faith in him. Who he was, what he’d achieved, meant something to them. It was quite humbling, really. “All right,” he said slowly. He datavised the singularity: “Is that acceptable to you?”
“I cannot take responsibility for your decisions, collective or otherwise. My only constraints are that I will not permit you to use my abilities as a weapon. Other than that, you have free access.”
“Okay. Show me what happened.”
The possessed in the nave had dropped to their knees, concentrating hard on producing the stream of energistic power which the dark Messiah demanded from them for his summoning. Up on the gallery facing them, Quinn’s robe evaporated into pure shadow and began to flow out from his body, filling the air around him like a black spectre. At the heart, his naked body gleamed silver. He accepted the offering from his followers, and directed it as he pleased. It spilled down across the floor below the cathedral’s dome, prying at the structure of reality, weakening it.
Powel Manani and Fletcher Christian looked down at their feet in consternation as the tiles around them sprouted a luminous purple haze. The soles of their shoes became enmeshed with the surface, making it hard to lift their feet up.
“I need to get near him,” Powel said.
Fletcher glanced up at the swarthy occultation looming above. “I wish to be as far from this dread place as possible. But I will not leave without her.”
Powel exerted his own energistic power to yank his feet clear of the tiles. Even then it took considerable effort to move them. He shuffled right up in front of Fletcher, the two of them almost touching. The bottom of his sweatshirt was lifted a couple of centimetres, revealing Louise’s anti-memory weapon shoved into the top of his waistband.
“Very well,” Fletcher said. “But it will be no easy endeavour. I hear the fallen angels approaching.”
The haze was thrumming, issuing a howl of lament and greed. Below that, the fabric of the universe was thinning in accordance with Quinn’s desire. They could both feel pressure being exerted from the other side, a desperate scrabbling.
“Not good,” Powel said. The tiles were becoming insubstantial. He pulled his feet out again; they’d sunk several centimetres below the surface.
“I will make a stand and distract him,” Fletcher said. “You may have time to reach the stairs.”
“I don’t think so. This stuff is getting worse than quicksand.”
The purple haze vanished. Fletcher and Powel looked round wildly. A drop of ectoplasm dribbled up in a crack between two tiles, making a soft
