a level where they were only pampered children, given selected toys their parent-masters could later render harmless. And all for the sake of that precious obscenity, the water of life, that seduced the Hegemony's privileged and powerful with the hope of eternal youth.
If Tiamat developed a technologically-based world society of its own, if it were left to mature untended during the century that it was cut off from the Hegemony, who knew what they would find when they returned? A world able to stand up to them, one which no longer craved their technological toys because it could make its own — a world which had decided that it preferred to keep immortality to itself, and was tired of exploitation? Or a world which had decided that its own exploitation of mers was immoral ... worse yet, one which had turned itself into a radioactive cinder the way Caedw had done. Tiamat had something that no other world could offer, and what it had was more of a curse than a blessing.
It was a situation that TJ had found intolerable. Knowing she couldn't stop him, she had gone with him again, as she had always gone with him, always been unable to refuse him any desire. And as always, she had been caught up in his passion in the end ... and after his death, she and Silky had carried on his crusade, the only thing in her life that had seemed to have any purpose after he was gone.
And now chance had swept the girl Moon into her life, as if to prove that it had all been worthwhile — the image of the child that she and TJ had never had. He would have been proud. It would be no burden to be guardian to Moon's new life; it would be a privilege. .
Elsevier felt a sickening vertigo as the irresistible force of the tidal stress sucked at her immobile body. Even with the protective fields functioning, the ship could not protect them entirely. She looked toward the glowing heart of blackness once again. Oh, heaven, I'm not ready; it happens too fast, and lasts too long. At least Moon was free of the heat and pain, with her mind held captive somewhere halfway across the galaxy... 7 wouldn't have done it, except for Cress... It wouldn't have happened, except for Cress... Oh, gods, let him be all right. He still lay in the emergency prism; they hadn't dared to move him to a safer spot. But the whole of the ship and all its equipment had been designed to survive this passage; surely he would survive, too — if any of them did...
She felt the sockets of her bones loosen and shift again, felt the less acute but growing discomfort as the temperature inside the ship rose. She imagined the outer hull incandescent now with stress as it plummeted toward the black hole's horizon, a part of the flaming distress call endlessly broadcasting as the damned were gathered in to then: final reckoning. The ship was constructed of the strongest, most resilient materials known to man, and equipped with counter fields to protect and stabilize its descent into the maelstrom.
It was as small in size as possible, and shaped like a coin; the stabilizers kept its flat broad face always aligned with the gravitational gradients as it fell. Because the walls of the black hole's gravity well in space were so steep, if the ship ever lost its stability and began to tumble it would be ripped apart in seconds by tidal stresses. Death would come to them all in an instant's blazing agony, and their death scream would echo in that well forever. Passage through the Black Gate taxed human and mechanical endurance, and the limits of Kharemough's technology. Only the symbiosis of a computer and the astrogator's human brain could hold them together and guide them down to the precise point of entry at the horizon.
And what if Moon held them together, but they missed the tiny opening to the hyperspace conduit that would spit them out two light-years from Kharemough? Kharemough had redeveloped the principle of Black Gate travel over a millennium ago, working from the Old Empire knowledge given to them by sibyls. The Old Empire had had a hyper light star drive that let it extend its control across distances still impossible for the Hegemony; but even it had used the Black Gate as a local center for its far-flung communications. The Hegemony had used its cosmic shortcut to reestablish this small part of the Empire's network of worlds, and used its fossil wisdom to get them safely through. But they still had no real understanding of the forces they manipulated... If this ship did not pass through the horizon at the proper coordinates, it might emerge in an entirely unexplored sector of space, with no system nearby and no coordinates for their return ... or it might never emerge anywhere in the known universe. Ships had been lost before; and they had been lost forever.
Elsevier felt her eyes bulging against her closed lids, no longer able to watch the coruscating fire of the black hole's surface swallow her universe. She heard the ship groan, and her own groan as she felt herself coming apart at the seams. The rippling bright blackness echoed inside her as her consciousness gave way; she let all her doubts and fears fly up like a shower of sparks and surrendered herself at last, gladly, to oblivion.
The Black Gate opened.
Chapter 17
It doesn't happen like that. Jerusha stood in the elegant den of the upper city townhouse, staring out through the diamond-patterned window, hands behind her back. Children danced among circles scrawled on the timeworn pavement, caught in some inscrutable childhood fantasy — children of wealthy Winters and wealthy off worlders together, oblivious to the distances of space-time and outlook that separated their parents. She tried not to think about the distances, the differences, the terrible-It just doesn't happen like that!
But even the furious denial couldn't keep it out of her mind, keep her from reliving the unexplained summons that had taken her away from the night duty desk at police headquarters, up into the darkened corridors on the second level. She couldn't keep from remembering the sounds that had drawn her — not human sounds but the sounds of some tortured thing — to open the final door and turn on the light.
She had not screamed in half a lifetime, but she had screamed that night. One raw cry of denial: that she did not see the bleating, bleeding animal that lay tearing at itself on the floor of that stinking room ... the filthy, raving ruin of what had been a human being. Not just any human being, but the Commander of Police for all of Tiamat — who had burned out his brain with an overload of k'spag. Gods, if she lived to see the New Millennium she would never forget that sight! She blinked fiercely as the children swam out of focus. No matter how hard she tried to put it out of her mind, it clung like the odor of death, corrupting every emotion, every thought. She had seen enough ugliness in this job to harden the weakest woman; but when it happened to one of your own... She had not liked much about LiouxSked, but no man deserved to suffer such degradation before the eyes of an entire world. Though he would probably be beyond caring, forever.
But that left his family. It had been her duty, devolved upon her by Mantagnes, the new Acting Commander, to help LiouxSked's wife make the arrangements for the family's departure from Tiamat. 'Marika needs another woman's presence at a time like this, Jerusha,' Mantagnes had said, quite sincerely. She had bitten her tongue. Well, damn it, maybe she does.
She had wondered how she would be able to face Lesu Marika LiouxSked and the two little girls, with the knowledge of what she had seen that night still branded on her memory. But she had kept control of her emotions with a success born of long practice, and it had seemed to have a good effect on the distraught and grieving woman.
Lesu Marika had always been distant and disapproving during their previous encounters — usually when LiouxSked had made her play glorified nanny on family expeditions into the Maze. But, like most of the force stationed here — like herself — LiouxSked and his family had come from Newhaven; and so now they spoke together in their own language of home, like strangers met in an alien land. Marika and the children were returning home to family and friends (and the Commander was returning with them, to spend the rest of his life in an institution; but they did not speak of that). Jerusha encouraged safe, nonspecific recollections of the world they had all longed to see again: the sun bleached heat of the days; the vital, quicksilver people; the star port metropolis and trade center of Miertoles lo Faux — where she had first seen the glory of the Prime Minister's visitation, and been awed by its splendor. Where she had dreamed her own dreams of other worlds ...
Jerusha felt someone come to stand silently beside her; glanced over and then down at ten-year-old Lesu Andradi, the younger of LiouxSked's two daughters. She was a bright, eager girl, very unlike her simpering older sister, and Jerusha had grown fond of her. And the gradual realization that the child hanging on her hand looked up at her uniform with the same near-awe that she had always felt toward her own uniformed father and brother had made the humiliation of her nursemaid duty bearable.
Now Andradi imitated her own pose at the window unthinkingly — a small, forlorn figure in a shapeless
