The Alliance had established wormholes and portals across nearly a third of the galaxy. Not every star, of course; that would require a colossal – and unnecessary – network. But thanks to the corpus ships racing ever onwards, their coverage was comprehensive. Alpha Defence was receiving many reports of clashes with the remnants of the Olyix, but so far, the Alliance was undefeated.
But the galaxy isn’t safe. That it could ever be so was a foolish belief, rooted in their childhood, where fear of the other lurking outside the Immerle estate fence had been indoctrinated right from birth. And knowing it is a false belief should allow me to reject it. I am rational above all else. Yet she was scared to have a child. What might happen to it if the Olyix returned? So very, very stupid.
She kissed him and ran her hand over his neat constable’s uniform. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Huh? Well . . . I’ve got another batch of meetings with the I and M policy board tomorrow.’
‘So what’s up with Implementation and Monitoring?’
‘Nothing much. How do we best encourage compliance with laws when people are struggling with re-body trauma and disassociation?’
‘Carefully, I’d guess.’
‘Yeah. But some constables are being attacked, because they’re the authority figures. So there’s an argument for light armour when you’re on street patrol. They want my opinion on increased unarmed combat training, and maybe some non-lethal peripherals.’
‘That sounds paramilitary.’
‘Yeah, but ordinary people who have recovered are entitled to a degree of safety from their neighbours. The alternative is segregation based on mental status. That’s too stigmative.’
‘Sounds like what we need is more therapists.’
‘Yes, but that’s not Implementation and Monitoring. It’s not too bad with populations from the exodus worlds. But – wow – people from Earth? Their norms are very different.’
‘So are you looking forward to it?’
‘Am I . . . You’re kidding, right?’
‘You’re bored senseless, aren’t you?’ She watched his face struggle to expel the guilty expression.
‘Maybe,’ he conceded. ‘This is not what I trained for. It takes some adjustment, that’s all. I’m no different from anyone else. I mean, are you enjoying the assessment committee?’
‘Never have, never will.’
‘Ah. So?’
She held both his hands and smiled contentedly, her nose a centimetre from his. ‘You want to get out of here?’
‘Saints, yes!’
‘I’ll call Immanueel. They can start designing a search ship for us.’
‘Oh, Saints, thank you!’ He kissed her. ‘Hey, maybe we can find your tachyon signal while we’re looking for Lolo Maude.’
Yirella twisted her lips in an awkward grimace. ‘Maybe . . .’
Yirella1
Deep Space
The domain was spherical, which Yirella had found somewhat disconcerting at first. A globe five kilometres in diameter, an almost unbroken green from the luxuriant jungle landscape. At its heart far above, eight tiny bright stars whizzed around one another in circular orbits, moving so fast they appeared as solid lines – electrons in a classic atom model.
She had no idea why corpus humans always favoured a tropical climate. Something to do with having a neutron star as your home sun, maybe? But the warm and humid domain was peaceful and gave her time to come to terms with everything that had happened. Endless time, if she needed it. Time when reflection eventually passed into resolution. She used her morning walks through the gently steaming vegetation to banish doubts. Afternoons were mostly spent reviewing memories the armada had extracted from the oneminds. Then there was yoga, which was calming – especially now. And she learned how to prepare food that had actually grown – on plants. Not that she’d abandoned printed meals, but there were days when she found cooking therapeutic.
Then there was the news. Immanueel’s ship scanned space through a wide array of sensors, with a baseline over a thousand AUs across. There was violence out there; they’d seen it. Huge battles had been fought, powerful enough for their radiation aftermath to shine brightly across a thousand lightyears – corpus fleets falling upon Olyix outposts. Every time they detected the embers of those melees, she was reminded of the squad – of Tilliana and Ellici, of Alexandre. Of him. Of the loss.
This is all for you, she told the memories. So you can be safe.
The course they’d flown since leaving the enclave had not been straight. They’d stopped every few centuries to mine and refine new material reserves from the planets in lifeless star systems; constructors formed new warships for Immanueel’s ever-expanding number of aspects. So eventually it was a modest flotilla of copper-skinned vessels that flew with her on her quest. The trajectory and pauses meant she’d eventually seen the supernova they’d caused – a gleam that outshone the incredible swirl of the core stars. She’d spent hours in an observation dome, staring at it with her naked eye, feeling no regret at the cosmic cataclysm. It was a beacon to all newly emerging species that they had nothing to fear from the stars. Almost.
That was weeks ago, domain time.
Immanueel’s biophysical body arrived at her home as she was finishing a lunch of avocado salad and (printed) salmon. She smiled up at them. ‘What have you come to tell me today?’
‘Genesis human, we have found it,’ Immanueel said. There was a level of pride in their voice she’d not heard before. A hand went instinctively to her belly. That which she had done was unforgivable. But she had given up her life and love for this quest. She was entitled to some part of the joy that could have been. ‘Show me!’
It was the same observation dome where she’d watched the destruction of the Olyix home stars. Now, though, the cluster of Immanueel’s ships was
