The anger that had kindled within her ebbed away. “There are others like you? Pockets of rebels all over the galaxy waiting to answer the call and take the fight to Concordance?”
The question seemed to amuse Ondo. “Precious few. There are many people harbouring resentments, no doubt, but there is no organized rebellion. No disorganized one either, come to that. Concordance does a fine job of keeping us segregated. How could an insurgency begin without a functioning comms network? There are a few freebooters who eke out a living fleeing from Concordance here and there, individuals who would kill to have the Refuge as a base. Most would gladly sell the data flecks in the Vault to the highest bidder. And of course, if Concordance knew where we were, they would come and obliterate us immediately. But perhaps there is someone, somewhere who might continue what I've started. That is my hope. Have you come any closer to deciding which planet you would like to live your life on?”
She'd tried; she'd spent hours flicking through planetary profiles but hadn't found anywhere that looked to her like home. Still, she was looking; at some point she'd decided to carry on living after all. “I'm thinking about it. When will you go to Maes Far?”
“I'll prep for planetary incursion once I've finished work on your skin, and once I can get the Aether Dragon fully active. As I say, it's not as powerful as the Radiant, but it will get you where you need to go. Perhaps three months?”
Three months. She had that time to decide what person she would be for the rest of her life. Her name, her identity, her homeworld, who she would be and what she would do. It would be a fresh start, a chance to move on. Yes. And after she'd left, she would never see Ondo Lagan and his Refuge again.
5. Primo
Secundus Godel paused outside the ornate doors that led to the audience chamber of Primo Carious.
She'd had no choice but to comply with his summons to the God Star. Primo Carious spoke with the voice of Omn, and that was not to be questioned or denied. If the Primo instructed her to travel half the width of the galaxy in order for him to relay some new command to her, she could only meekly comply.
For now.
She calmed her thoughts, made sure a neutral expression showed upon on her face, then knocked. The Primo made her wait for ten, twenty seconds before summoning her inside. It was part of the game he played. She refused to show any irritation.
He sat in his golden throne at the far end of the chamber, reading something from a black book held in one of his heavily-jewelled hands. This was the sanctum sanctorum from which he directed all the affairs of the galaxy, handing down and interpreting the commandments relayed to him by Omn. Sitting in that chair, everything was his to control.
Two Void Walkers stood unmoving beside him, grey-robed, shaven-headed, their attention clearly focused upon her. It was a clear warning. All of it – the wait at the door, the shining splendour of the room, the fixed stares of the Walkers – it was all a message. Behind them, the turquoise-green planet that they orbited filled the scene through the transparent wall, the limb of the world framing the Primo. Distantly, Godel could see that lights sparkled upon the surface. Reflections from the suns, perhaps.
She crossed the room, taking thirty paces to reach him, emphasising the hard sound of each footstep upon the stone floor, imagining each clack was the crack of a blaster-shot. When she reached the throne, she knelt in the prescribed manner. There she waited, head bowed, trying to ignore the mounting pains in her knees.
“Ah, Godel,” Carious said at last, his words a sign that she might rise and look upon him. He tore his attention from the book, as if what was written there was infinitely more interesting than she was. “Your journey through the void passed off without incident?”
He was, she noted, and not for the first time, an unimpressive figure. He could have been a barkeeper on any backwater world if Omn hadn't chosen him to be the figurehead and Primo of Concordance. He was portrayed to the galaxy as a glorious figure, made of light, but all she could see was the pattern of blotches on the backs of his hands, the sagging flesh of his chin.
“By the grace of Omn, I remain whole and complete,” she said. “My soul still glows within me.”
“Excellent; how fortunate we are to bask in his protection. And how is the work on the sacred tally progressing?”
It was a barbed question; a verbal stab. Something they fundamentally disagreed on. She let the blow glance off her. “It remains a fascinating area of theological research.”
“And one you are pursuing very actively, I hear.”
“As an intellectual pursuit.”
“Ah, of course. And tell me, how close to the seventeen sevens are we now?”
“We … are still counting. Was this what you summoned me to discuss, my lord?”
“It is a different matter. I'm told that you believe it is time for another shroud to be deployed,” he said.
“I continue the work of Omn.”
“And yet, we still have a survivor from the last one to deal with. This Selene Ada. Do we know anything about her?”
“She is just a woman. She is unimportant.”
“Nevertheless, her survival is a situation that cannot be allowed to continue. The galaxy must see that our control is absolute. Omnipotence does not allow for exceptions.”
“It is very likely that she is dead,” said Godel. “Her ship was struck as it attempted to escape Maes Far.”
“And yet I hear rumours that she was rescued by the renegade, Ondo Lagan. That she still lives. Are our enemies so organized that they can
