Ondo's face was creased as he picked through his thoughts. “Yes, agreed, but this might be our only chance to progress. We have to think before we leap; the trail might end here if we don't make the right move. There's a time to be patient, and there's a time to act. I think we have to take the chance.”
“This is you saying this?”
Ondo actually chuckled. “This is me saying this.”
“Would Marita have approved?”
“I think she might.”
Selene replayed the images she'd recorded in the Depository. “The bead embedded in the artefact: I assumed the totem was simply incomplete, that the other beads had been lost over the years. You're suggesting that the object is, in fact, complete, and that the bead identifies the one lesser circle it is tied to. Like a key?”
“It's a possibility, isn't it? And I think, before anything, that we should upload all the data you recovered onto a nanosensor and send it out into the network, get it to the Refuge. Whatever happens, we can't lose it; it's vital proof that Concordance's version of history is wrong. If we don't survive, then hopefully someone will find it one day. We've achieved that, at least. I'll also tell the sensor to spread the data everywhere it can; get it broadcast to any worlds that are listening. We need to fight their lies with the truth.”
Selene returned her attention to the telemetry images. More detail had been filled in as the Aether Dragon overlaid the readings captured by more of the nanosensors. The radiating lines joining the circles were clearer. Insignificant as they looked, they had to be impressive structures, hundreds of kilometres long, presumably built upon the ocean floor and rising from the depths to the surface. The islands too: all were either circular or some regular polygon. Were they all artificial or had existing landmasses been repurposed? The smaller circle corresponding to the bead looked to be intact, undamaged by any meteorite impact. Which didn't mean a damn thing; there might be nothing there but a circular lump of rock lashed by tsunami waves and death-force hurricanes. But they had to find out.
“Okay,” she said, “so we're going to do this? Attempt the journey back through Dead Space, seize the object from the clutches of the Warden, hope the Radiant Dragon doesn't go insane or explode from the trauma of it, then return to Coronade and attempt to penetrate an extremely volatile atmosphere without Concordance seeing us but before they act to completely annihilate the planet? And then escape the planet and the Concordance blockade strung around it? All in the hope of uncovering the next clue in this imaginary trail you think we're following?”
“Yes,” said Ondo. “I think that's what we should do.”
“In that case, leave the Aether Dragon where it is, EVA over, and we'll get started.”
4. The Metakey
Once again, the Radiant Dragon struggled against Selene's navigational inputs as she attempted to steer it along the complex path through Dead Space. It felt like multiple personalities were warring inside the ship's Mind, some friendly to her, others hostile. She flew manually, not trusting the ship to obey the course if she laid it all in beforehand, fearing the ship might simply refuse to fly, or steer them into a star rather than face the pain of repeating the journey to the Depository.
So far, the navigational controls were more-or-less responding, but with each jump she sensed more resistance from the ship, a swelling reaction that was something like anger and something like fear. She was forcing the ship to take a series of actions that went fundamentally against its nature, and the effect was inflicting further damage upon the ship's core. She found herself apologizing out loud at each shudder running through the bulkheads. She tried to reach that inner Mind, offer it explanation, but it remained locked away. Sweat trickled down her back from the effort of directing the vessel.
She caught Ondo's eye. “Can you hear it, too? The screaming? The whole ship cries out for us to stop.”
“I hear it,” said Ondo quietly. His distaste at what they were doing was clear in his eyes.
“Perhaps they're locks put in place by Concordance to stop anyone using the ship to reach the Depository,” she said. She knew she was saying it to make herself feel better. The ship's resistance went too deep; it felt terrified. “Are similar strictures built into the Aether Dragon?”
“In my experience, all vessels built by pre-Omnian War civilisations had such bars embedded into their navigational systems. Whatever the perceived danger is, it goes deep.”
“It may have been a cultural response to revered sites. Like, sacred ground.”
“I could have believed that if it was only a few cultures, but not all of them.”
“This golden age of yours – perhaps this was one of their spiritual beliefs or their social taboos. Regions of space only the elect few could approach.”
Ondo shook his head. “It seems so unlikely. We know little of the culture, of course, and all cultures are complex, conflicted melanges rather than a single, simple thing. But from all I've learned, I don't believe it. They seemed so enlightened, so advanced.”
“But those are all subjective concepts, and you're defining what you consider to be advanced. Besides, they weren't so superior that they didn't crumble when Concordance burst out of the galactic centre.”
Ondo was about to reply when a shock jolted through the ship, as if they'd struck something solid – impossible as that was in metaspace. A look of anxiety shot between them.
“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” he said. “Even if the ship doesn't refuse to follow your instructions, it might tear itself to pieces before we get there.”
“If we do get there, let's just hope it feels better about getting away afterwards. Flying like this is agony, it's tearing my head in two.”
In the end, they stuttered rather than jumped into existence within visual range of the blue dwarf
